Interpretation
276 creative works found
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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 The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions.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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My visual interpretation of pinkelephant’s story The Creeping Sea
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Interpretation of a black hole in space using a vector programme
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It was suggested to me by the wonderful Robert Knapman that it would be interesting to see what people thought my images were and how they are interpreted. / / So, I leave this one up to you. What do you see? What do you think? I would love to know. Even if you don’t see anything or think it’s rubbish, give it to me. / There is no right or wrong answer. / / Just a little fun.
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Order, chaos, black coffee, red coffee, hot coffee, fractals, infinity, geometry, influence, blue nature, just blue, sensitivity, supernature, USB. / My interpretation to the Butterfly Effect. Digital mixed media (large view recommended – don’t miss it) / Copyright © LiorG 2007 This work was featured in the groups A Fractal Energy Passion and Solo Exhibition. Add Lior Goldenberg to your watchlist
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STONEHENGE FROM A MONOCHROME ORIGINAL
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There are people who are able to take a Spiritual journey of knowledge and understanding on their own. The majority of us need a skillful teacher to direct, encourage and stimulate our awakening. The Teacher that has appeared today brings us wisdom and inspiration, as all good teacher’s should do. She is free from the constraints of her ego and will help us discover deity through the senses of emotions and humility.
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May Lake. Yosemite. / / My answer to question 48: / What song do you want played at your funeral? / Elvis Presley’s version :) Amazing grace! / How sweet the sound / That saved a wretch like me! / I once was lost, but now am found; / Was blind, but now I see. / ‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, / And grace my fears relieved; / How precious did that grace appear / The hour I first believed. / / Through many dangers, toils and snares, / I have already come; / ‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, / And grace will lead me home. / / The Lord has promised good to me, / His word my hope secures; / He will my shield and portion be, / As long as life endures. / / Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, / And mortal life shall cease, / I shall possess, within the veil, / A life of joy and peace. / / The world shall soon dissolve like snow, / The sun refuse to shine; / But God, who called me here below, / Shall be forever mine. / / When we’ve been there ten thousand years, / Bright shining as the sun, / We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise / Than when we’d first begun. / / Peter Gabriel: / “You can blow out a candle / But you can’t blow out a fire / Once the flames begin to catch / The wind will blow it higher”
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Watercolour interpretation of myself meditating / Transcending into light & colour, my vision is clarified / My third eye reveals itself
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22” X 30” Oil on Canvas The male sexual spirit that visits women in their dreams.
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Nostradamus believed that it is possible to alter the predicted course of the future through awareness and action. If his prophecies had been interpreted correctly, then so many wars and disasters would not have occurred. The human race have made little headway in mastering its own fate. Painting in acrylics, ink, silver pigment and graphite 25th January 2009
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Made in Ultra Fractal 5
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This image was taken in the style of the Progressive heavy metal band “Opeth”. / it was taken to represent my own response to one of their album covers “The Roundhouse Tapes”
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a week or so ago our great goddess of tee shirt goodness Natalie Tyler contacted me about one of the slide projection images I’d posted wanting to know if she could have a little fiddle about with it…. sure thing honey I say…. and today I recieved the Natifyed version of the image… and it looks AWEsome…. so much stronger that just the photograph it derives from…. so this is a Nat+Lee tee shirt for you to enjoy…. and you should find it over in her portfolio as well / . / . / this is more or less what she started out with to arrive at the finished shirt…. big difference hey…. anyway enjoy and truckloads of thanks to Nat for taking this on…... it looks sooo differnent to the orgianal and now it’s soooo funky…... / .
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A Visual collaboration between F. A. Moore / and myself for the group , Resurrection of the Exquisite Corpse _There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies; but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind, and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another. The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another; and star differs from star in splendor. So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. / If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. verses . 40-44of Corinthians Chapter 15 An Explanation of how this is done a tough one for sure, this is what we had to do. This work is a work where you take *one inch only of someones work and “make a picture to tie into that one inch” I made the whole first picture, and then sent her through email , one inch of it. / here is what she saw.. she then did the bottom half of what you see, I then sent her through email the top half and I did complete top half. she then Blended in the works to erase some of the horizontal distractions.. this is my complete picture, which I will share at another time F.A. Moore would like to thank stock providers: Mizzd-Stock, Wyldraven, UmbraDeNoapte-Stock, Remidica-Stock, Zaraun-Shyntrak, and Marcus J. Ranum*
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Paintings inspired by news, events, politics and urban life
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Take Your Sunken Eyes & Learn To See Take Your Broken Wings and Learn to Fly Paul McCartney/ The Beatles
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T-Shirt Available / Take Your Sunken Eyes & Learn To See Take Your Broken Wings and Learn to Fly Paul McCartney/ The Beatles
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Digital interpretation of my original photograph Gumball, this work is an explosion of colors captured in one of the simplest and most innocent of subjects, gumball machines. Pop art bordering on kitsch, this interpretation is whimsical, amusing, and plain good wholesome art! This piece would look best in a large canvas where the gumball machines become whimsically large, reinforcing the nature of this piece.
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. interpreted memories painted / interpreted memories danced / and simply mine… . october 2oo9 / acrylic on canvas .
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“Glory Box” Portishead, Dummy I’m so tired, of playing / Playing with this bow and arrow / Gonna give my heart away / Leave it to the other girls to play / For I’ve been a temptress too long Just. . Give me a reason to love you / Give me a reason to be ee, a woman / I just wanna be a woman From this time, unchained / We’re all looking at a different picture / Thru this new frame of mind / A thousand flowers could bloom / Move over, and give us some room Give me a reason to love you / Give me a reason to be ee, a woman / I just wanna be a woman [INSTRUMENTAL] So don’t you stop, being a man / Just take a little look from our side when you can / Sow a little tenderness / No matter if you cry Give me a reason to love you / Give me a reason to be ee, a woman / Its all I wanna be is all woman For this is the beginning of forever and ever Its time to move over… ... This has some personal significance to me. As much as we all want things to go one way, or we feel they are moving in a certain direction; life often reminds us that we should never expect anything. Though not resentful of this thought, I wanted to let someone know that there is always the beauty in the experience. Not perhaps the best or kindest song, but definitely the right choice…. Exclusively Ultra Fractal 5.02 / Julia, with pixel, / Gradients edited by me. / Full view for fine detail and textures. / Thanks for any comments, or favorites. / Critique welcome. / Depression Series1
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