Determination
159 creative works found
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This girl has climbed all this way to get the exact flower she wants. Originally an illustration done in ink.
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The Grass Really Is Greener…. “The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a person’s determination.” – Tommy Lasorda This Work Was Featured In Live, Love, Dream / (Thanks Bamgirl) Winner of the Today’s Best award, June 24th, 2008, at Zazzle / This is a new collaboration work I created inspired by a photo from one of my good friends Paul Hobday better known as Hobbers. I was inspired to create this piece from his work Twisted It really caught my eye…and my mind wandered to perhaps how the fence really became twisted. ;D / I really enjoy Paul’s photography as I’m sure you will too, please take a look at his wonderful portfolio. You can contact Carrie at: carrie@carrieglennstudios.com and please visit Carrie Glenn Studios /
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André’s creation: eclectic pleasures
by Maxwell EdwardBlack and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words…
Black and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words. This jazzy rendezvous has always been André’s favourite ear-food. He just loves the way its beauty, splendour, radiance is ‘unleashed’. André stares at the canvas for over a dozen times. Here he is staring at the blank space which is future marvel…or was it to be past marvel? Had he missed his chance, missed the boat which would have sailed to sentimental stardom? He refuses to collaborate more than a sentence for any one idea. Any idea that deserves a sentence must deserve no doubt. Any canvas is only worth the greatest ideas. Two André’s exist; though only one at any one time. The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions. On rare occasions the other character may appear, the intensive, massively determined André who acts on impulses. Impulsive André must be begged out. A Pandora’s Box of surprises, his job will at least never cease to astonish. “Dearest André, Through years have you befriended my son Louis, so therefore I am offering an opportunity to benefit both of our interests (with intent towards your gain). Litton inc., my company has stepped up towards mainstream success. We require visual arts for our newly bought edifice. I understand you have been painting for the eight years since high school. To your discretion I would like to require a painting; just one will suffice. I would like something vibrant and colourful, yet deep and meaningful; Contemporise to your own vision. Much thanks, Dr. Raymond Fonck.” The commissioned paper lies stuck on the wall. André has read it. Now it is time for the future. It has been too long sitting around (or rather bouncing around); too get too much productivity from anything. Someone once said to him that anything is good experience. True perhaps, although he prefers productivity, especially in a time of intensity such as this; three days left until confrontation. His vigilant eyes stroll around the room, searching for advice. He is not bored, nor has he painters block, for such a term does not exist and will not ever for him. His eyes strike the clock. The clock glares 5:48 pm back. What a disgusting fierce look it has. Not 5:45, nor 6:00 and only one uncomfortable minute in-between. For at this time these uncomforting three digits add to the frustration in the actual time. “Aw!” André suddenly realizes the importance of the time. It is the one factor which never seems to be on his side but actually encourages his total progress. It is an epiphany like that of a mother to the newborn. André decides to let his hands take / control. They are the secret key, (sometimes the gatekeepers of unleashing impulsive André) His dominant left one picks up the brush (over time it has made up for its fault of statistically losing him seven years). His right hand decides to lose cognition. It dips itself into a little puddle of Sangria oil paint muck. Than it flies onto the near-centre of the canvas, smeared diagonally. His left hand takes initiative once again, waving lines of smudge to and fro. Right hand brings more paint to its destination. Myrtle, Indigo, Olive, Magnolia…and no, not that…Yes, yes, even black! (Well seal brown to be precise). All of these contextually beautiful colours unleashed! There are no thoughts in André’s mind now. This is impulsive André now; organised thought is of little importance! That colour is important here. This colour is unimportant there. A few lines of any colour are important right here or there, but perhaps a darker colour is better. More negative space up and down the edges. Shape is forming. Lines are bolding. Complete non-representational form is diminishing. Visualizations; the visualized images in mind are being…unloaded bit by bit. It is coming about. What is it though? No one knows. If anybody could guess it definitely would not be André. André knows he has the power to bring out the reality in it though. In a seemingly paradox situation he must not connect to reality at the moment though. Now, after these hours of painting, André is in the painting. He would not know it has been hours besides the constant glare of the illuminating digital clock staring from across the room; it unconsciously processes its recognition into André. The phone screams out, ‘br-ring, br-ring!’ Like the other external matter it creeps into André, until finally its screams become too annoying to ignore. It’s too late now…impulsive André has vanished; his conventional counterpart has replaced him. The phone persists though. André decides to take it (typical for his returned mannerism). He dives across the room horizontally attacking the corner where that nuisance phone lies. ‘Aw, aw, aw, aw!’ A tube of paint has squirt from underneath his stomach. Agonising that his material friend can be so painful at times (like any of his life long friends). He picks up the phone; only the tone. He has missed whatever, whoever it was. Once again, missing the boat… Now thought and all that comes with it has returned. Why now out of all times possible? There is only sadness, misery, all this escalated from these small miniscule misfortunes; all has turned to turmoil! What can one do, when feeling like crawling into a hole? His secret minor disorders such as his claustrophobia would prevent him from crawling into that hole, even if he had one. At the moment everything feels like one big hole. Not surprisingly André’s eyes begin doing the only thing they know to do in times of unrest; wander. It is impossible to ignore what is there; it has been there all along, yet has never been seen. It is beautiful! It is splendour! It is radiance!! It is interrupted by another scream of ‘br-ring br-ring’. André picks up the damn phone. Without contemplation he whispers, “Sir, madam, I’m very terribly busy, could you perhaps call back sometime?” A deep sophisticated voice replies, “Raymond Fonck, André. Listen, I need to know about the progress of the painting. How is it going; ready to sell on Friday?” Many emotions garner at the speed of light inside André allows these emotions to clash inside of him. The painting; it is beautiful, splendour, radiance! How could he give it away now, after an indescribable series of emotional contributions? It is something that has not been attempted before; yet it is new but the expression of old. It is everything, at the moment, hopefully containing more interpretive inoculations for the future. It is a subject, of just some time, yet it contains a collaboration of detail separated from time. It is…once again interrupted by screams, this time of another sort; the infuriating talking of man. “André. Are you there?” Feelings of great rebellion sweep André off his feet. He knows how he will revolutionize his life, because after all; this painting has revolutionized his thought already. “Mister Fonck. I am so sorry. Some things have come over me…a type of sickness…although I am sure you are not aware of this mad syndrome I am suffering due to it. Well to the point, I must say I will not be supplying you with your wanted artwork. Thank you for your understanding. Hopefully we can collaborate something in future.” André hangs the phone up without replies, without a stated understanding from the mister Fonck. Without even the knowledge of acceptance or approval from the mister Fonck…it does not matter. All that matters is this new painting, this contemporised vision. It is everything. Most importantly of all, it is…unleashed!
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Midnight Blues is from a painting i did recently on Arches Aquarelle Paper 56×76cm, a mixed media production, utilising inks, pastels, acrylics, charcoals, found objects such as string and fabric….and the most beautiful gold paint which gives the guitar it’s lustre Midnight Blues is from the Inspired Series by Karin Taylor, during the painting of this, i was strongly influenced by my favourite Australian artist, Brett Whitely, longing to capture something of the wonderful curves he created in his works. It has a dark and sombre feeling, much like how i was feeling at the time i created her. I used to laugh and carry on that my thoughts and my moods could ever be conveyed through a painting, and it was just silly that people reckoned they did so, but just look at me now….i cannot seem to prevent it happening these days!! lol…that’ll teach me to scoff :)
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acrylic on canvas
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The eyes of a black panther
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I wish you could have been with me when I took this shot. I had run out of slide film, and only had some very old and outdated negative film left in my camera bag, when I came upon this delicate, but strong blade of grass. Despite sub zero temperatures and a frigid and vicious South Dakota winter wind, this grass seemed to be stretching gracefully and hopefully towards the last rays of the winter sun before it ducked behind the trees for the night. I was amazed by the simple beauty that this single blade of grass presented to me that day. It made me remember that even when times are tough there is always a ray of hope if you search for it. It touched me in a way that I can’t put into words.
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There is a lady I knew who was the strongest woman I had ever met…not only physically but emotionally as well. She wrecked buildings for a living with her husband, son and some hired men. She cooked for a large amount of people regularly. She watched two children, a husband and grandson die. She always had a welcome mat out, a hug and a cup of coffee for anyone who came to her door. I could say more about this amazing woman but there is not enough room…..She passed away one year ago…I was with her until her last breath…...I miss her often and was proud to be considered her daughter and friend. / 24×24 Oil on canvas.
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gimp
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acrylic on board
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This man was riding with a broken arm, he did amazing in the competition! I loved the determination that he had to stay on that horse. This was taken at the Exeter Rodeo in 2007. Hope you like it! Thanks for viewing!! =)
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War Between The Worlds The noise, the deafening noise. / A battle rages to my north. / Armies of ships fall to my side, / weighing on my heart for those inside. / The metal torn and burned, the sound / of electricity courses through my veins. / Waves of terror surround me, while those / untouched and safe know nothing. / The coming of time, sets the pace for a new era. / Like beasts of armour they wheel fate, / determination to break through the barriers / that separate them from us. / The trumpets wail, and wings fall. / The masters reproach treads near. / The bow breaks and the floodgates of peril, / wash over us, drowning the luminating heat of despair / The finale draws near as I’m blinded by glorious light, stars fall from their designation, / The universe goes silent, the darkness, the nothingness, my mind slows, I fall….. Lisa C. Weber ©2008 / (Created with Bryce 6.1) / Visit My Complete Redbubble for all My 3D Artwork & Products
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In the style of those inspirational posters that adorn the walls of meeting rooms, here as my determined goslings.
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Open
by Derek FlynnI am down the road and up the hill / I wait for you still / Wires around my fingers / Potentially lovely / Perpetually human / Suspended and open / Open / I am through the woods and past the trains / I wait here in vain / Scrubbing out the stains again / Potentially lovely / Perpetually human / Suspended and open / Open up your eyes and then— / In a night the snow starts falling / And everybody stares / Through their windows at the streetlights / Too beautiful to see / I am in a room I’ve built myself / Four stray walls / One floor, one ceiling / And day after day I wake up feeling / Potentially lovely / Perpetually human / Suspended and open / Open up and up your heart and then… - Regina Spektor, “Open” (assumedly; untitled song) Model: Rachael
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While I was hiking the Great Wall – gasping for air and feeling my tired legs – I started pondering over how the Mongolians could manage this climb and how much determination they must have to get through this monstrous marvel. And how did the Chinese build the wall to start with?? No machinery, no technology, just pure human strength – or was it just sheer determination?
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Bands of iron, forged and moulded to make a warrior’s armour. / At dawn the city’s defenders went out to meet the foe. The battle was fierce and bloody from the first. Men slew, and in their turn were slain. Finally, one warrior stood alone between the invader king and the city with all its treasures. / The dark master saw victory at hand. Metal shrieked against metal but the bands of iron held firm beneath his sword. The city’s last protector, weary though he was, summoned one final reserve of strength. / The invader king fell lifeless as his head was parted from his shoulders.
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DPI Determines Resolution, Not Quality
by Stephen MitchellDPI is not about quality of image, it helps determine how wide and high you can print an image.
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This is the last of this series for a bit. Its been lots of fun and thanks everyone for your comments, interpretations, ideas and connections. My inspiration has been my dining room, the wee hours of the morning and imagination. It’s been a unexpected photographic journey that’s paid off for me and will inspire more work in the near future. Some of these were shot for a couple of exhibitions in the new year too. So you happy Sydney folk might see one or two around the traps. Thanks again for the chance to share and explore. And remember – what you see is almost never what you get but what you get may indeed be what you see .)
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One of the many determined faces of Spain’s Rafael Nadal at the 2006 Wimbledon Championships More Sport
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And the wind began to blow and all the trees began to bend / And the world in its cold way started coming alive / And I stood there like a businessman waiting for a train / And I got ready for the future to arrive - The Mountain Goats, “Woke Up New” Model: Rachael
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/ Midnight Blues by Karin Taylor Well howdy my bubbly friends, and wouldya believe i got me favourite piece of art featured on the HOMEPAGE tonight!! omi!!! omeeee!!! omi!!!! You see, i was just havin’ a little whinge about how i never get featured no more….. / and the one i was thinkin’ deserved a little featuring…just happens to pop up on / the homepage….wo!! I should try whingin’ a little more often (nah, my family disagrees!!!!!) lol Midnight Blues is from a painting i did recently on Arches Aquarelle Paper 56×76cm, a mixed media production, utilising inks, pastels, acrylics, charcoals, found objects such as string and fabric….and the most beautiful gold paint which gives the guitar it’s lustre Midnight Blues is from the Inspired Series by Karin Taylor, during the painting of this, i was strongly influenced by my favourite Australian artist, Brett Whitely, longing to capture something of the wonderful curves he created in his works. It has a dark and sombre feeling, much like how i was feeling at the time i created her. I used to laugh and carry on that my thoughts and my moods could ever be conveyed through a painting, and it was just silly that people reckoned they did so, but just look at me now….i cannot seem to prevent it happening these days!! lol…that’ll teach me to scoff :)
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