Brown paint
1958 creative works found
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The Lion King is the second of three ‘up-close and personal’ Big Cat paintings in my “We Three Kings” series, the original was created in artist colour pencil on drafting film. The first in the series is the Tiger King, and the third will be either a cheetah or a snow leopard…I havn’t yet decided which one it will be!
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Abstract Violin Oil on canvas panel 20”X24”
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This is an 11 X 14 soft pastel painting. : / /
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Oil on Canvas / 76×91 cm / Inspired by Mozart Violin Concerto No.3 K216 1st Mov / The original was sold
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Contemporary art in shades of blue and brown. The painting includes abstract styled butterflies, flying in a serene world of endless skies and flowers. The original painting was made with artist-grade acrylics on canvas by the Canadian contemporary artist, Soniei. Buy cards and framed / unframed high quality prints of this contemporary Japanese art online now!
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Photographic P/S based digital composite by Ange, 2008. Model: digital shot by Sjodahl & Richardson – Creative Photography 2008. Retouched face & background (sourced) – brightened eyes, added eyeshadow, refined eyebrows, adjusted/retouched foreground tiles/background wall cracks & perspective. Tonal curve, channel mixer adjustment & warm toned photo filter applied. Model Silvia Grenova, Make up by miss rubyrouge, Hair by Lyndall Vile ( x-lox), Clothes by Masterslave. Original shot below.
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/ “The Basho Tree” is part of the new Collection called “Tropics”, and is named after the famed poet Basho.. / The Tropics collection of paintings are imbued with colour and light to reflect the intense heat of the climate... Watercolour on Arches Hot Pressed Paper.. Matsuo Kinsaku was a Japanese poet who changed his name to ‘Basho’, after he was presented with a wide leafed banana tree (or Basho tree) by one of his disciples. Although the tree is rare in Japan and the climate too cold for it to bear fruit, Basho liked it because of its large, soft leaves. The Basho tree appeared frequently in his work. Poetgraves Squalls shake the Basho / tree – all / night my basin echoes rain. Matsuo Basho /
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Acrylic on canvas. A textured blend of colored lines. Decorative, geometric abstract. /
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Tsubaki / 22” x 30” Acrylic / . Featured in Fine Art of Portraiture / . / Portrait of my Aunt Tsubaki / . / . / 35 favorites / . / . / 344 views so far. / . / .
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A friend gave me a butterfly that he found on my lawn. I wanted to honour it in some way.It got into my painting- I used some old netting to suggest that it had escaped the net. This butterfly is free!!
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Gazania Digital reflex camera / iso 100, f 4.5, 1/1600 sec., 50 (75) mm. macro Thank you for your attention. Featured in the group The Grunge Art Gallery / Featured in the group Fabulous Flowers The “Herbarium” project:
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Digital reflex camera. / iso 100, f 3.5, +1 Ev, 1/160 sec., 50 (75) mm. macro Thank you for your attention. Featured in the group Retro conglomerate
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This image was selected as a Featured Work by the groups Abstract Macro Urban Art and The Fine Art of Peeling Paint in September 2009. What people around the World are saying about “Radiance“ / “Excellent abstract work!” Sweden / “Amazing!!!” Melbourne, Australia / “Wow, this is totally awesome, a definite fave!!!!!!!!!!” Gold Coast, Australia / “I love abstracts such as this. Yours positively glows with a silvery cool gleam contrasted with rich ochre and salmon hues. It is beautiful.” USA / “Wow..what an amazing abstract..so cool!!” USA / “Lots of things to see in it.” Toowoomba, Australia / “Brilliant abstract. Really wonderful image – Love the rich metallic tones.” Yangebup, Australia / “Great texture.” Canada / “Wonderful” Netherlands Abstract macro art taken from an old, rusted vehicle along Northern Arizona’s Route 66 by JD Brummer for As Eye See Photography.
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“Dilys” is very intriguing to me…her name originates in Wales and means “perfect”....at the end of the painting session she was Dilys and that was it…but I keep wondering what her story is all about…she wears a purple ribbon in her dark hair, and her lips are parted gently…what is she thinking? Watercolour on tinted St Armand Handmade Linen Paper / You’re Beautiful / Girl / She’s Like The Wind / She’s Come Undone
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20 years later he returned…it was the end of October…chill winds blew the last of the leaves in a wet swirl around his feet…the crisp fall day had not appeared as expected…instead the sky was leaden with the promise of rain in the near future…the road seemed longer than it did when he was a young man…the ruts were deeper now, filled with water from the previous days rain…was it always as dark as this?...it was only six o’clock and he was looking forward to tea by the fire…Maddy would always have a cake freshly baked and his mouth watered at the thought of it’s rich plummy goodness… / Only a few more turns now and he would see the house, rising above the trees, staid and comforting in it’s very chimneys, not beautiful like some, but reliable…always there…his spirits rose with excitement…surely Tom would still be there at the gate…the last he heard Tom was still going strong at 80…Tom always had a soft spot for him, despite everything…Tom was always on his side…and Maddy too of course…the old lady was another thing, but he was sure he could get round her again…he always could…he still had his good looks…no grey yet…hair still abundant…his clothes were shabby, but that was to be expected, and it would not be for long any way…tomorrow he would have enough money to buy a whole new suit…many new suits, if what he had heard was true… / He hurried on, eager now…..one last turn…the gate came into view…..the silence around him was palpable…the only sound he could hear was the far off cawing of some rooks in the wood to the left of him….the whole area was overgrown…the gate was firmly shut and barred…it was obvious no one had opened it for a long time…he stood aghast…why had he not written?...but he wanted to surprise them..truth be told he was afraid of getting an answer telling him to stay away…but it had been 20 years…surely that was long enough…and what had he done that was so bad? and hadn’t he been paying for it all this time at that god awful place? / He ran to the gate and started to shake it, trying to loosen the lock, but it held firm…the beautiful wrought iron was caked with years of rust, icy particles were already forming as the evening grew darker….he peered through the old metal lace, but there was only the insistent darkness pressing up against his face from the other side…the rooks cawed again, and suddenly he saw them in the trees above, staring mockingly down at him, as if to say “20 years too late”....by Janis Zroback Painted Negatively in Watercolour on 300lb Arches Not Paper 30×23in / Through The Gate
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During my solo exhibition a couple of weeks ago F.A Moore asked me what I used to paint when I first started out. Mainly influenced by Manet, this is the kind of painting that I used to do way back then. I’ve had this painting hanging in my basement since 1999 and have never offered it for sale before. Although very traditional, it’s one of my first and one of my favorites. Acrylic on masonite board 20 X 24 inches framed in two-tone black/brown.
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My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree / Toward heaven still, / And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill / Beside it, and there may be two or three / Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. / But I am done with apple-picking now. / Essence of winter sleep is on the night, / The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. / I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight / I got from looking through a pane of glass / I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough / And held against the world of hoary grass. / It melted, and I let it fall and break. / But I was well / Upon my way to sleep before it fell, / And I could tell / What form my dreaming was about to take. / Magnified apples appear and disappear, / Stem end and blossom end, / And every fleck of russet showing clear. / My instep arch not only keeps the ache, / It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round. / I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend. / And I keep hearing from the cellar bin / The rumbling sound / Of load on load of apples coming in. / For I have had too much / Of apple-picking: I am overtired / Of the great harvest I myself desired. / There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, / Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall. / For all / That struck the earth, / No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble, / Went surely to the cider-apple heap / As of no worth. / One can see what will trouble / This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is. / Were he not gone, / The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his / Long sleep, as I describe its coming on, / Or just some human sleep...After Apple Picking Robert Frost Watercolour, Acrylics, Mixed Media on Arches Not Paper 18×20 FEATURED IN BITS AND PIECES
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Night falls….the marshy pond is lit by the setting sun….the reeds and bull rushes glow in silhouette…soon the pond will freeze over trapping life till next spring….The Fourth Sorrow.. Watercolour on Arches Paper…two other paintings in the series are shown below…they are unpublished at the moment… The first sorrow of autumn / Is the slow goodbye / Of the garden who stands so long in the evening- / A brown poppy head, / The stalk of a lily, / And still cannot go. The second sorrow / Is the empty feet / Of a pheasant who hangs from a hook with his brothers. / The woodland of gold / Is folded in feathers / With its head in a bag. And the third sorrow / Is the slow goodbye / Of the sun who has gathered the birds and who gathers / The minutes of evening, / The golden and holy / Ground of the picture. The fourth sorrow / Is the pond gone black / Ruined and sunken the city of water- / The beetle’s palace, / The catacombs / Of the dragonfly. And the fifth sorrow / Is the slow goodbye / Of the woodland that quietly breaks up its camp. / One day it’s gone. / It has only left litter- / Firewood, tentpoles. And the sixth sorrow / Is the fox’s sorrow / The joy of the huntsman, the joy of the hounds, / The hooves that pound / Till earth closes her ear / To the fox’s prayer. And the seventh sorrow / Is the slow goodbye / Of the face with its wrinkles that looks through the window / As the year packs up / Like a tatty fairground / That came for the children....Ted Hughes / Whippoorwill / Cricket Call
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“Painted in a semi-abstract style, “The Fifth Sorrow” evokes the woodland in Hughes poem.. / I decided to paint it to look like old woven tapestry, and to that end used only sea sponges and a rigger for details…light is pouring down through the centre of the wood, casting the roots into deeper shadow, illuminating the leaves and the tree trunks…the chiaroscuro effect gives the viewer the feeling of being bathed in the same light... Watercolour on Drawmaster Not Paper View the entire Landscape Collection HERE The first sorrow of autumn / Is the slow goodbye / Of the garden who stands so long in the evening- / A brown poppy head, / The stalk of a lily, / And still cannot go. The second sorrow / Is the empty feet / Of a pheasant who hangs from a hook with his brothers. / The woodland of gold / Is folded in feathers / With its head in a bag. And the third sorrow / Is the slow goodbye / Of the sun who has gathered the birds and who gathers / The minutes of evening, / The golden and holy / Ground of the picture. The fourth sorrow / Is the pond gone black / Ruined and sunken the city of water- / The beetle’s palace, / The catacombs / Of the dragonfly. And the fifth sorrow / Is the slow goodbye / Of the woodland that quietly breaks up its camp. / One day it’s gone. / It has only left litter- / Firewood, tentpoles. And the sixth sorrow / Is the fox’s sorrow / The joy of the huntsman, the joy of the hounds, / The hooves that pound / Till earth closes her ear / To the fox’s prayer. And the seventh sorrow / Is the slow goodbye / Of the face with its wrinkles that looks through the window / As the year packs up / Like a tatty fairground / That came for the children....Ted Hughes / The First Sorrow / The Third Sorrow / The Fourth Sorrow
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A sketch from the archives, painted today…provenance unknown, but perfect for the Empty Studio series, as it’s simple and understated... Sepia Inks on Industrial Paper. Behind the golden western hills / The sun goes down, a founder’d bark, / Only a mighty sadness fills / The silence of the dark. / O twilight sad with wistful eyes, / Restore in ruth again to me / The shadow of the peace that lies / Beyond the purple sea. / The sun of my great joy goes down, / Against the paling heights afar, / Gleams out like some glad angel’s crown, / A yellow evening star; / The glory from the western hills / Falls fading, spark on spark, / Only a mighty sadness fills / The spaces of the dark. George Charles Whitney
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A new series was born today…”The City”...though I have done quite a few realistic and abstract paintings of cities in the past, I had not designated a series as such…I live in a wonderful city that I love very much and as with most of my other work, this abstract painting is not a reflection of my city or my experience of any particular city, but instead is a metaphor for many…I am not going to say too much about it, but will let you add your own story... the poem below tells one of the stories Watercolour on Arches Not Paper Well, the real estate market broke down / And a lot of egos with it. / Paper castles came tumbling down, seaweed security that made us laugh at our father’s struggle to survive. / All blew away in some sudden wind from far across the globe. / Suddenly it was enough to have a house and a family, a tree, / And a warm place by the fire. / Suddenly love meant more than all the trophies, / And accumulated equities. / So much energy spent in vacuums, so much strength locked in file cabinets. / So little time spent in forests, / And in the quietude of our souls!..J Kavanaugh 1984
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