Desire
2 members found
2045 creative works found
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The Warrior
by Jarkoacrylic on canvas /
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Acrylic painting /
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The Sensual World by Jarko
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Watercolours on paper. New as of 27th of november. / feel like I am moving through milk with a switch of wine or something more course (vodka gin nicotine steel? – the sting of some deadly chemical) threaded through it. Heavy limbs and tingles in my hands and feet. I am considering, remembering. Hard to see. / One of the unique flaws I have. (Unique? Did I just have the fucking audacity to say that?) My memory seems to work in a slightly different way to the way I understand the rest of the human world’s to. This has been made far worse and far more absolute by the ECT (for those new to this particular acronym it stands for Electro Convulsive Therapy. Shock treatment. ST. ILA. I Love Acronyms.) This in that I have realised how little difference there is between my memory as affected by the treatment and my memory unaffected. Little. None? / Say to me of an experience shared, and I will ask of you for more and more specifics, until I can build an image, or a sound, or a SENSATION of some ilk specific to that point, and then the experience in its entirety will flood back into my mind. This is little different from the way everyone else experiences things, excepting, perhaps, the degree of cues needed to spark the fire of memory, and also the extent and exactitude of my recollection. Like a flaking mirror. Like tigers in tall grass. / Like zebras stacked and wrapped in horizontally striped black and white socks. / The interest lies, perhaps, in this specific shard. I do not believe I have more of a facility. I think I have less. I think that I am in this manner more stupid than the people that I know intimately. Than those that I read about. In some sense I am dumber. / I can’t see memory, anyone’s memory, as being a continual, smooth line of experience. / You can drop a lit match into turpentine and it will sizzle out. Also into petrol and methylated spirits. The flash point is over-ridden by the impact with liquid. Zz-sh. Fire-free. / We are formed by our memory and choice, and so much, oh so much so, by the threads of what we have found to be the most powerful and beautiful. I believe that what I have seen informs others of their beliefs and the tenets of morality that instruct them is in actuality some kind of AESTHETICS. Take me down to my essence, to where I brood in my hind brain animal honesty, and you will find this. I believe that it correlates with how everyone (yes, bathe in the light and beauty of this instinct) forms the core of their beliefs. How we are formed. BY BEAUTY. And then from an extension of one selection after another built partially from each other and extracted and separated each time by aesthetic appreciation every instance. / There is some inseparable connection here between memory and action. We remember in some unconscious manner what we have chosen to believe, what we have found most powerful in the past, what HOLDS MORE MEANING FOR US THAN ANYTHING IN OUR EXPERIENCE – and this informs us how we should ACT. How we answer the phone what we eat who we sleep with what pets we have our reaction to the flies buzzing around our brilliant heads, how we will SPEAK and what we will say. Every choice we make. What we are thinking of as we lie dying and which fucking CEREAL we pick. / These things link hands and tell us whisper to us. Beauty and memory. Instinct and experience. Move my hands over the dirty keys and glance outside into the hot white summer light. I choose. We choose. I am informed as to how to choose. By a process I don’t and perhaps can’t understand. / The way we move and behave is extracted by the shattered lines of our memory. It is NOT a procession of smooth and comprehensible awareness. / I think this is what is dictating what I am writing. / And since I feel that I am in this way DUMBER than others, well, hm, I am left in an ocean of unconnected experience. / Bleh. Maybe I am just being a wanker and reading into everything wayyyyy too much.
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Two pillars of flames rise up to form the basic outline of a woman. Your imagination allows you to fill in the rest… Oil on Board – No Airbrushing 36 X 26 inches / 92 X 66 cm contact my Agents at Gallery 112 / .........................................................................
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My inner rumblings reflect my personal trials, dreams, needs and obligations. My Artwork reflects who I am! THOU SHALT NOT STEAL MY ART / / Fractal / Smudge Art TM. / Photography / By: Madeline M. Allen Thank you for viewing my work. Image copyright © 2008, Madeline M. Allen / Copying and displaying or redistribution of this image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
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My inner rumblings reflect my personal trials, dreams, needs and obligations. My Artwork reflects who I am! THOU SHALT NOT STEAL MY ART / / Fractal / Smudge Art TM. / Photography / By: Madeline M. Allen Thank you for viewing my work. Image copyright © 2008, Madeline M. Allen / Copying and displaying or redistribution of this image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. / /
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Model: Michelle
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Charcoal and Chalk. / Sold / 120 cm / Such beauty. So much… / It’s not really just that we have no idea what exactly we are supposed to be DOING, what acts are we to PERFORM, precisely, in this magnificent and small, relentless and fleeting life. / Each of us is trapped, each day, in a universally commonplace, utterly human crisis of freedom. We can only ever be sure that we will never know. Certainty of uncertainty. / I dunno if I am convinced. Do I have muesli? Toast? And even if I go into the kitchen and find out do I end something colossal and incomprehensible by choosing. And this is all made so much worse because I don’t have any muffins. I mean. Not even ONE. / Of course, well as everyone knows - / Every time we wake there is a vast, exquisite world. Endless and breathtaking. Deadly. / Within it lies our doom. And choice opening before us like blooms or wounds. Our every breath a mark in time that one less separates us from death. Each choice annihilates other choices as time forces us forwards into the conviction of uncertainty of life and the certainty of death. / Each nerve has hurt us, each loss… and each step, the cells in the joints of each finger forged and folded by ancient and forgotten beauty and pain: we have been wrought by billions upon billions of deaths a war endless and endless in its creation – “nature red in tooth and claw,” – destruction creating and shaping us. HUMAN and alive. Even Tennyson, who wrote that quote. Most of his other stuff was just crap. / I still can’t decide about breakfast. I already know. Coffee. Cigarettes. Sullen glance at food. / This miracle of chance that something, anything like us should come to exist! That we can know that is what we are. / We are a wonder of improbability! The processes that opened this world to us. / We are burned so deeply by what we are. Branded, yes. / That we can know that we will all die. That for each of us, under every ambition, love kindness and wisdom there lies this certainty. Cruelty and violence unfolding into our brimming dying minds. / We are such creatures, forever acknowledging that we must end, hard and real beneath the softness of skin. Thrashing and fighting with our foreknowledge with every action we take. Held against us in the deepest reptilian core of our wondrous hearts and minds. HELP! / WHAT DO WE DO! / This bright world where we know no place.
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Constant Craving Drawn on the 29-9-08 / Featured in 1on1 The Fine Art of Portraiture Group on 30 Sep / Featured in the Music Inspired Art (M.I.A) Group on the 23 Oct Even through the darkest phase Be it thick or thin / Always someone marches brave Here beneath my skin Constant craving / Has always been Maybe a great magnet pulls / All souls towards truth / Or maybe it is life itself / That feeds wisdom / To its youth Constant craving / Has always been Craving / Ah ha / Constant craving / Has always been Constant craving / Has always been / Constant craving / Has always been Craving / Ah ha / Constant Craving / Has always been / Has always been ‘ / Has always been / Has always been / Has always been / Has always been Lyrics by kd lang
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MY view under the sea… acrylic/airbrush painting on canvas. 19.7×27.6 inch ALL my abstract works of art are mostley done intuitively; I am affected and inspired by music; no painting is done without music; music is inalienable. see my profile.. this work was result with this song: / was featured in SEA / was featured in Feminine Intent 07/09 / was featured in Art For The World 07/09 / was featured in Underwater & Sealife 07/09 / was featured in Creative Cards 07/09 as Canvas Print / as Framed Print /
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scopperloit
by bellmuskerI can say that, because it’s just between us
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I drew I Just Want You on the 4 July 2009 I JUST WANT YOU There are no unlockable doors / There are no unwinable wars / There are no unrightable wrongs / Or unsignable songs There are no unbeatable odds / There are no believable gods / There are no unnameable names / Shall I say it again, yeah There are no impossible dreams / There are no invisible seams / Each night when the day is through / I dont ask much I just want you / I just want you There are no uncriminal crimes / There are no unrhymable rhymes / There are no identical twins or / Forgivable sins There are no incurable ills There are no unkillable thrills / One thing and you know its true, / I dont ask much I just want you / I just want you / I just want you / I just want you Im sick and tired of bein sick and tired / I used to go to bed so high and wired, yeah – yeah, yeah, yeah / I think Ill buy myself some plastic water / I guess I should have married lennons daughter, yeah – yeah, yeah, yeah There are no unachievable goals / There are no unsaveable souls / No legitimate kings or queens, do / You know what I mean? yeah There are no indisputable truths / And there aint no fountain of youth / Each night when the day is through, / I dont ask much I just want you / I just want you / I just want you / I just want you / I just want you / I just want you. / Yeah, yeah, yeah / I just want you / I just want you, / Hey, yeah / I just want you. / Yeah, yeah, yeah / I just want you, hey / I just want you / I just want you By Ozzy Osborne
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We had a mouse that loved avocado. I set up a few mouse traps and after a couple of nights woke up to hear a lot of crashing an banging in the kitchen. It wasn’t till the next afternoon I found the poor little mouse in my living room with the trap around his head. I felt really bad for using the mouse trap. This picture captures the look the poor little thing had when I found him. If you have a mouse, maybe just hide you food for a few weeks. scotty /
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2009 Acrylic on 140 lb. Watercolour paper 24x!8” Dreaming of HimTribute to Womanhood This is my second Collaboration with The Australian Beauty Anthea Slade brilliant and talented artist/writer Dreaming of Him is 12 Painting/Poem/Drawing of our Tribute to Womanhood Series of 40 paintings/drawings/poem collaboration, and the second in our mini series Woman in Relation to Man. For the next eight uploads we will be looking at women in relation to their men from many different perspectives. Even if a man is not present in the painting we will depict the woman’s feelings for and towards her man. Reynaldo’s beautiful painting Dreaming of Him inspired my poem. Paintings: Reynaldo / Poem: Anthea Dreaming of him Dreaming of him / makes her feel beautiful / Seeing his image / in her minds eye / Filling in the detail / the line, colour and form / He takes shape in line first / and shading of light and shade second. Sweet words of love / vibrate through her mind / and send her heart dancing / Beating to a new rhythm / one that she has never known before. / She can now see context, / place and see how raw history has lead to now. Seeing new meaning / that comes from her womanhood knowing / that something so strong / can never be wrong / To be able to see with clarity / and know with surety / that this feeling that builds with / each day is been fed by reality / Where reality skips and plays / and takes over dreams by its majesty Where reality use to bite / now it kisses her with desire / and no longer bruises her / but tenderly seduces her / into a consistent dance of / passion and tenderness / that takes her dream to a new level / a time, place and scene where she can revel. Could this be heaven on earth? / Not heaven built on idealism / but heaven built on lived known experience / where the maturity and wisdom / finally come together in perfect balance / that creates beauty from inside out / and that he can see / embrace and honour. Where admiration and love are / the first ingredients of their desire / and knowing is pulse of their fibre / and she dreams of the days to / explore and reinvent the dreams of him / dancing, forging bringing them into reality Mutual voice, mutual admiration, mutual / stories spoken and heard / that lead to communication of the highest order / where broken hearts can heal / and live deeper then ever before / Because beauty is based on their truth / and seeing each other as they really are… Dreaming of him fills her mind / and with grace hope and desire for him / She smiles…. By Anthea Slade
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LILITH’S LAMENT When my time is done / And they add up my sum / Of minutes, moments and deeds / I know my story will show / How I let my love grow / And reached out and grabbed / Life by the balls / I’ve lived a lifetime of love / In a minute / And I’ve tasted Eden / In one single kiss / I put my hand on the heart / Of a moment / And in an instant my life / Spun on a dime / Know I won’t take this magic / For granted / We can only go forwards / Not backwards / Now that we’ve drunk from / Love’s cup sublime. / © AmandaGWright 2009. This image is the “kick-off” to a new series I am creating entitled “Shameless” celebrating those fearless women who embrace life, fully and completely, women who know themselves truly and who are comfortable in their own skin. Watercolor & acrylic on 140lb watercolor paper. / © AmandaGWright 2009.
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Mixed media assemblage
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would you dance with me in the Rain? I think so… {another of those pesky heart-ish thingys…} “Come Away with Me”...music and lyrics by Nora Jones…{is that a Quantas jet? heheh} / / Come away with me in the night / Come away with me / And I will write you a song Come away with me on a bus / Come away where they can’t tempt us / With their lies I want to walk with you / On a cloudy day / In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high / So won’t you try to come Come away with me and we’ll kiss / On a mountaintop / Come away with me / And I’ll never stop loving you And I want to wake up with the rain / Falling on a tin roof / While I’m safe there in your arms / So all I ask is for you / To come away with me in the night / Come away with me :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: May we all find our heart’s desire, / and be together in both time, and space… :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ~ use large view, please ~ thanks for the look and listen, my friends Serious Fun Studios ~ fractal art images and photography Fractal Art Prints & Products by SBricker @ Zazzle fractal art by SBricker @ devientART Scott Bricker at Fine Art America Scott Bricker’s art at Art Wanted.com
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