Legacy
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326 creative works found
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pieces of humans make a monster BTW, if you are wondering, i can make custom tees with your face instead of mine and you could buy them from here….just e-mail me at eZ_animeluvr@yahoo.com with your pic.
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The forest is a peculiar organism of unlimited kindness and benevolence, that makes no demands for sustenance and extends generously the products of it’s activity. / It affords protection to all beings, offering shade even to the axeman who destroys it. Lord Buddha 500 BC . / Shot taken outside the Royal Adelaide Botanic Gardens, South Australia . /
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Ink drawing on Fabriano Rosapina 285gsm. / Original size 28×28cm.
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/ Photographer for Hire – All Occasions – Mail Me :) / / My rules for photography and art are very simple – I like it, or I don’t… / / Thanks for visiting my folio :) / I certainly appreciate your taking time to view what I’ve been up to, and enjoy reading your comments. / / / / / Writings (or ramblings) / Another World / The 3rd / The 10th / Weaver / High-Flyer / The In-Between Place / The Haggard Crone / Come, Dark / Chandelier Brain / Eat Me / You’re Strange, Rick / Ever-Queen / Sleeping / The Black, White & Grey / /
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Humans are rarely confronted with the realities of their actions in their own life time…............. This image was created to support a campaign to increase awareness on the degradation and irresponsible use of our rivers, waterways and wetlands particularly the Murray Darling Basin :)) Images are a collage of shots I have taken around South Australia, including Murray River and Coorong areas. Click Here . / WARNING / ©2008 Globalphotos All rights reserved. / All photographs, text and images by Globalphotos are the exclusive property of Globalphotos – protected under Australian and international copyright laws. / These images may not be reproduced, copied or manipulated without written permission. / No use for Public Domain. / Use of any image for another photographic concept or illustration is a violation of copyright.
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Original- Oil on Canvas 30” X 36” For sale at www.artwanted.com/HDPotwin / /
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The Legacy Wild bird habitat Utah USA opened to much contraversy late last year. Apparently, to open this reserve they had to go through Wild bird habitat and some farmland. However, after much debate and ecological research it was open. So far the birds have thrived and some land owners are still not impressed. This photo was taken in one of those magical sunset moments over the lake. Photo taken by Canon IXUS
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What is more peaceful and serene as a beautiful sunset and ducks retreating home in the last warming rays of Autumn at Legacy Bird Habitat Utah USA Photo taken by Canon IXUS Featured in the Group ‘Seasonal ‘Scapes” / Also Featured in the ‘Natures Wonder’s Group” / Also in my “Legacy Series” Autumn’s Legacy / Sunset on Legacy / Thankyou so much Guys!:):)
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Savior of a Language This photograph is of a Cherokee shawl, a plate of the Cherokee alphabet (found miraculously at a yard sale many years ago) with a merged photo of a bust of sequoyah from a museum. Sequoyah was born between 1760 and 1770 five miles from the original Cherokee capital of Chota in Tuskegee, now part of Tennessee. At that time, the Cherokees were an independent nation still living on their original tribal lands. They were coexisting with the British Colonies as equal neighbors and were making seperate trade agreements with the government. / Sequoyah’s mother ‘Wurteh’ belonged to a prominent Cherokee family, whose three brothers and nephew were all chiefs. Sequoyah’s father was probably a white shopkeeper, named Nathaniel Gist with whom Wurteh lived until he went home to Virginia, while Sequoyah was still an infant. Gist had nothing further to do with either of them and died before Sequoyah became famous. / Wurteh brought up Sequoyah in a little cabin in the Overhills country, resembling a fullblood, was interested in everything and became a blacksmith and self-taught silversmith. He was naturally mechanical and a gifted artist whose special talent was for drawing animals. He married, had a family of four sons and settled on some land in the village of Tallahassee, not far from his birthplace. / As a very young man he had noticed the power that the ability to read gave the white man. He began to think and talk, both jokingly and seriously, about creating an equivalent advantage for the Cherokees. / About 1806 he and other Cherokees were forced off their land, and he moved his family to Alabama. In 1809 he started working on the syllabary, with a pair of silver spurs on which he had a friend stamp his Cherokee name in English letters – sitting for hours turning the spurs in his hand, thinking and jotting down tentative ideas on wood shingles. He used his nephew’s speller and some printed alphabets lent by missionaries for ideas as to the function of the letters. For the sounds of the letters represented he had to rely on his own powers of analysis, since he knew no English at all at this time. / The alphabets he saw are supposed to have included English, Hebrew and Greek. / During the Creek War of 1813-1814, he fought against the Creek for the US Government, interrupting his work, but after injuring his leg, he returned to the syllabary zealously until the cabin that contained all his work burnt down. / Migrating to Arkansas, he started over on the syllabary, reducing 200 letters to 86, remarried in 1815 and in 1821 was granted a hearing before the tribal council presenting written messages between his daughter and himself, proving writing worked just as well in Cherokee as in English. The council was impressed and Sequoyah began teaching youths and in a few months the whole nation was reading and writing the Official Cherokee alphabet in 1821. / In 1825, a medal was struck for him by the US and he began Cherokee periodical printed in Cherokee. He also visited Washington on behalf of the Cherokees in 1827, prior to the ‘Trail of Tears’. In 1839, as the president of the Westaern Cherokees, with his cousin George Lowrey, the president of the Eastern Band, they co-signed an Act of Union, uniting the two previously separated and warring tribes. / In 1842, he set off to Mexico looking for dissident members of the tribe, apparently becoming ill and dying around San Fernando, Mexico in 1843, where his grave has never been found. Like so many traditional heroes of other nations, he had vanished into legend, leaving a legacy of an alphabet, language and writing skills for his people.
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/ “The Legacy” is part of the Still Life Collection of Memory Paintings…do you remember long ago before Ikea, and flat pack shelving, fathers would nail up a few odd planks of wood in the shed, and tools were kept there, odd nails, pieces of rope, garden implements and other paraphanalia…long after they have gone the tools remain in memoriam, a tribute to ingenuity, common sense and “making do”... Painted in Watercolour on Saunders Waterford Rough Paper… Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood Ye that through your hearts to-day / Feel the gladness of the May! / What though the radiance which was once so bright / Be now for ever taken from my sight, / Though nothing can bring back the hour / Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; / We will grieve not, rather find / Strength in what remains behind...W. Wordsworth / Still Life with Old Dandelion Stencil andd Terracotta Pots / Still Life with Wellingtons / The Sap Bucket
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/ “The Bequest” is the title of a painting…it is an oil painting of a simple lock…the painting has been handed down from generation to generation of the same family…no one knows its origin, for those who knew the story are long dead….now they only know that the painting must never be sold…must never go out of the family…it is handed down to each eldest son and must hang in a prominent place in the main room of the house…the family is very wealthy and own many works of art, and visitors are puzzled to see this strange painting by an unknown artist, covered with the crazing of age, hanging among the Monets and Pollocks…much too embarrased to ask, their questions go unanswered, and many stories have been concocted and whispered over the years...Janis On the back of the painting, someone had scribbled the following poem You left me, sweet, two legacies / A legacy of love / A Heavenly Father would content, / Had He the offer of You left me boundaries of pain / Capacious as the sea, / Between eternity and time, / Your consciousness and me. E Dickinson… Acrylic and watercolour on Arches Not Paper
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/ “Still Life With An Awl” is part of my new collection of paintings of everyday things…things like tools, that we take for granted until we need them…one of my favourite places to go is the hardware store…I love the scent of paint and new metal…I sniff the air as I walk in and revel at all the new things I could get to make my life easier…here is a new type of level, I say to myself…here is something for finding the studs faster, so I don’t have to go knocking and listening…here is a new type of tape that doesn’t rip the drywall to pieces after I paint…I’m going to treat myself to a Dremel tool with all the parts this weekend…what excitement!!..I can’t wait... Watercolour on Arches Not Paper… FEATURED IN …MATURE WOMAN…FIRST THINGS AND FEATURED MEMBER… / / The Legacy / Still Life with Old Dandelion Stencil and Terracotta Pots / Still Life with Wellingtons / The Sap Bucket
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/ This is a new addition to the Collection…Everyday Things…the tools we use and taked for granted have an intrinsic beauty…this red handled wrench and clamps with the screwdriver are from my own tool box... For now we see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face. / Now I know in part, but then I shall know as also I was fully known. Corinthians 13. Hand Drawn with watercolour markers, on hand made Ink Transfers on Saunders Waterford Hot Pressed Paper.. FEATURED IN…WORKS ON PAPER / Still Life with an Awl / The Legacy / Still Life with Old Dandelion Stencil and Terracotta Pots / Still Life with Wellingtons / The Sap Bucket
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/ The latest additon to the Everyday Things Collection is “Still Life with Picture Wire” ....this series is very personal to me in that they represent objects and tools, that are part of my life…I remember being told long ago by an art expert, that it is best to paint what you know, and I feel that the things I use, not only contribute to the quality of my life but have an intrisic beauty of their own... Mighty Leaf teabags are so pretty even when used…all that stitching and silky mesh / Astonishingly, I just found out a couple of days ago from Mingtees, about a world famous artist who has painted the very same everyday things that I do…’How wonderful” I thought…most of those pieces were done some time ago and I am very curious to see how he did them…his newest works on exhibit at the Pace Gallery now include the real tools actually hanging from the canvas…it proves to me that we certainly don’t work in a vacuum…there are probably many other artists around the world who feel the same way as I do and paint the same things... Watercolour on Saunders Waterford Hot Pressed Paper / Enigma…A Stii Life / Still Life with an Awl / The Legacy / Still Life with Old Dandelion Stencil and Terracotta Pots / Still Life with Wellingtons / The Sap Bucket
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This is the third painting of door knobs, in the new Collection of “Everyday Things”…in watercolour this time and less structured than the first two, this shows the door knobs from both sides of the door, set in a triangle as I do in all my Still Life paintings…I love the patina on the brass and before I started to paint, I was astonished to see that the colours of some of the items on my painting table were reflected in it…so of course I included them... Watercolour on Saunders Waterford Hot Pressed Paper.. It went many years, / But at last came a knock, / And I though of the door / With no lock to lock. I blew out the light, / I tip-toed the floor, / And raised both hands / In prayer to the door. But the knock came again. / My window was wide; / I climbed on the sill / And descended outside. Back over the sill / I bade a ‘Come in’ / To whatever the knock / At the door may have been. So at a knock / I emptied my cage / To hide in the world / And alter with age... R. Frost / Door #2 / Door #1
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/ “Door #4” is part of the Collection “Everyday Things” and is of course the fourth door…like Doors 1 and 2, it is not a painting, but a drawing, this time in Conte crayon…I love door knockers and refuse to add a bell to my front door…I polish mine so that it shines a welcome to all, but I made this one a bit oxidized, a little verdigrised to add some texture and interest to the painting…I never want to make it too literal... Conte crayon drawing on Clayboard Knock with tremor.. / These are Caesars.. / Should they be at Home / Flee as if you trod unthinking / On the Foot of Doom These receded to accostal / Centuries ago.. / Should they rend you with “How are you” / What have you to show? E. Dickinson / Door#3 / Door #2 / Door #1
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/ I find the patina of age very intriguing and exciting to recreate in paint…I always have cuts of MDF and Masonite primed with gesso waiting in the wings, ready for when inspiration hits me…lately I’ve been preoccupied with doors and things to do with doors….I made this door old…very old…it has withstood the test of time and all kinds of weather and has been painted many times, attesting to a tale of many owners…lately someone dressed it with a shiny new red door knob…why? if it could talk it would tell many stories.... Watercolour with Acrylic on Gessoed Masonite “Too little has been said of the door / It’s one face turned to the night’s downpour / It’s other to the shift and glisten of firelight”...excerpt Charles Tomlinson / Door #6 / Door#5 / Door #4 / Door#3 / Door #2 / Door #1
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/ Doubt is the lock, / Faith is the key. / Hate is the lock, / Love is the key. / Body is the lock, / Soul is the key. / Ignorance is the lock, / Light is the key. Sri Chimnoy “The Key is dedicated to Catherine, who told me she loves them“ Acrylic on Masonite….slighty surreal and semi-abstract this time, as a Key can mean so many different things… / The Red Doorknob / Door #6 / Door#5 / Door #4 / Door#3 / Door #2 / Door #1
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www.danadipasquale.com / Chicago, IL
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/ ‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller, / Knocking on the moonlit door; / And his horse in the silence champed the grasses / Of the forest’s ferny floor: / And a bird flew up out of the turret, / Above the Traveller’s head / And he smote upon the door again a second time; / ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said. / But no one descended to the Traveller; / No head from the leaf-fringed sill / Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes, / Where he stood perplexed and still. / But only a host of phantom listeners / That dwelt in the lone house then / Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight / To that voice from the world of men: / Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair, / That goes down to the empty hall, / Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken / By the lonely Traveller’s call. / And he felt in his heart their strangeness, / Their stillness answering his cry, / While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf, / ‘Neath the starred and leafy sky; / For he suddenly smote on the door, even / Louder, and lifted his head:- / ‘Tell them I came, and no one answered, / That I kept my word,’ he said. / Never the least stir made the listeners, / Though every word he spake / Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house / From the one man left awake: / Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup, / And the sound of iron on stone, / And how the silence surged softly backward, / When the plunging hoofs were gone....Walter De La Mare The above poem is another of my favourites…I read it over and over again, picturing the dark night, the traveller knocking at the old door in the moonlight, and no answer but the echoes of spectral ghosts on the stairway inside… / There have been many different interpretations of this poem, (I have copied one below), but I think that if we chose a literal interpretation, it seems like it’s the middle of war and the traveller is bringing a message, but he is too late…they have all gone or are dead… / I chose to paint it as a semi abstract, painting a vignette of the door panels with three large iron rivets, (a triangle) to give a sense of massiveness, of a fortress or citadel, with just the glow of the moonlight in the centre, all the rest fading away into blurred ochres and siennas…to avoid being literal, I did not include a knocker…he would have used a staff or stick anyway... Watercolour and Acrylic on Saunders Waterford Rough Paper.. Below is one of the theories about the poem… The theme of the poem is the place of man in a universe which is far greater than he, and which he can neither connect with nor understand. It focuses on man’s state of isolation and disharmony with the natural world. Nature, as represented by the horse placidly munching on the grass and the bird frightened by the man’s disturbing clamor, is normally serene – it is only man who is anxious because of his separateness. The traveler tries to overcome his aloneness and establish meaning by fruitless seeking (knocking) and responsible living (keeping promises), but the natural world remains unyielding in keeping its distance, and the traveler continues on alone. Enotes.. / The Key / The Red Doorknob / Gone Away
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Summer is rapidly approaching and the old picnic table that has been so long in the family is unclothed, showing the scars of age…peeling layers of paint…we trace the first colours that fathers father painted 60 years ago…remember that? then father painted the table many years later…it was blue or maybe green…then Uncle George…the table came to us then…I remember..it was 1950, the year we married…we wanted to strip the paint, but didn’t have time, so we painted it white…now Lindsay our great granddaughter has the table…she got it on her wedding day ten years ago…she plans to paint it again “Family History” Fictional extract…JZ.. Watercolour and Acrylic on Canvas Board / Still Life with Black Cherries and Old Lace / Ripe Cherries
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Legacy
by JaneSolomonTempered by my own will / I steer my self built galleon / Through storms and balmy weather / Aware of my own creative power / The wind blows …
How we create our own reality with our thoughts and actions and how for every positive or negative action there is a reaction. I hope you enjoy. x
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The portrait shot – my handsome colt, age 7 days Featured Appaloosa & Spotted Horses/Ponies/Mules (October 2009)
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Canon Powershot A400; edited in Picnik Generations have come and gone / Many winds have blown / Rain, snow, and storms of life / The windmill’s strength has shown If it could talk / What would it say / About those / Who have passed on If I’m quiet / So very quiet / Maybe I will hear… “I lost count of the hours / they worked the fields around me / Night and day they toiled away / So a future you would see” “Live the things you learned / Forgive the hurts long past / They gave the best they could / Now make their legacy last” “The time to grieve is over / Be grateful that they gave / They left behind such blessings / No one can ever change” Lynn Moore
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