Paint weathering Wall Art
328 creative works found
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Mixed medium painting of an abstract with desert earth tones.
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Oil painting /
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An old wooden fishing boat sits on the shore of Burwash lake in western Yukon Territory in complete dereliction. Years of use and the brutal weather has began to chip away at the many layers of paint. Burwash, YT, Canada October 2007
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This is how rainbows are created. =3 Done with oil pastels on cardboard (normal pencil for outlines).
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mixed media on wood. 24” x 36” i keep a grey bin full of photo copies, pictures cut out from magazines, polaroids, various papers, etc. as i work, i dig through it looking for elements that will fit in, compliment, or otherwise enhance the outcome of the painting… the leaves fall to the hard soil as winter sets in / there is an echo / hunger and longing drowns / and drowns / the night grows longer / a restless mind does not sleep / a thin blue-grey welcomes the dawn / the weary returns to the cave
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Beyond the paint chips / the splinters / the warn away corners / Beyond the ivy / that burrows / into deep crevasses You will find me / Waiting Exposed My sweetheart and I found this on a day trip to downtown Omaha, Nebraska. It was in a salvage yard waiting for someone to take it home. I wish that someone was me! / Kradam wrote a wonderful poem inspired by this photograph. / Read Portal to My Soul You’ll enjoy it! Canon PowerShot G6
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Chipped & peeling paint on weathered wood bench in the village / K20D Flake / Top 10 One Dominate Color JPG Cast offs challenge Sept 2009 / Featured in Alphabet Soup August 2009 / Top 10 Abstract Macro Urban Art/Peeling Paint June 2009 / Top 10 Natural Texture/Peeling Paint May 2009 / Featured in Natural Texture May 2009 / Featured in Visual Texture Apr 2009 / Top 10 Rustic/Weathered Wood challenge Apr 2009
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The street was crowded with shouts and chanting. Posters with slogans I didn’t understand moved along Main Street like thicken blood in veins too clogged with soot to notice. Faces turned to the distance and then waved aside the shoulders of police to stare into me or beyond me or through me or into cameras or maybe knowing that my two eyes saw everything as an abstract painting and they didn’t want to be abstract. The proud wrinkles shouted to be seen and be remembered for the hardship that had etched its way into flesh. No, you can not turn away, you can not cover me with cosmetics, you can not still the motion of music and feet shuffling along sidewalks that once were dirt. My dirt. Their dirt. Our dirt. The land that formed everything and out of which we grew. Before cement towers blocked the view to the sea. Before garbage covered the ashes. / The ashes. The ashes. Burning limbs from a sun that sets only once some days and twice when it feels the mood. Burning wind that torches leaves and dries the dreams of soldiers of the theater. Ashes that were baked onto the hillsides before they held mosaics of naked colors and hungry lights. Ashes that were blown from nature’s own breath and will still blow again and always even as merchants try to sell hot dogs to musicians and music sells to thin, clogged ears and ears are covered from the sound that the hands have created so that nobody realizes what is really happening. Nobody hears the clapping. / Blinded. Blinded by the brain’s efforts to see more and hear more and be more and sell more and buy more until there is no more and more has no meaning because it is less. Less. Less. / Yes the street was crowded. Yet I saw only one face. And that was enough.
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White sands and snowflakes floated about the rust-colored fog as Mr. Kimberly traveled with freckled feet across loose boards and headed toward a thin blank spot on the horizon. Kimberly reached with sweating, shaking hands for a flagpole that wasn’t really there. / “I was meant to be king,” He shouted at slivers of shadow and clouds of unknown closed eyes that studded a brick wall. He fell. And in falling, his dreams became reality. As soon as he stopped trying to breath he was able to feel the curtains of doom raise like a theater’s opening night. / As his body molded onto weathered wood moorings, he felt for a hand to grasp with his own hand, with his own heart, with his own brain that fizzled like frying eggs on a platter. He reach farther and farther. It felt empty. Yet he knew intuitively that there was something there. Something strong inside the void. And then he felt it. The emptiness that was as full as a lover’s arms, as full as a mother’s eyes, as full as a friend’s laughter. / Kimberly held on. Tight. Not for dear life. For it was too late for that. He held on to eternity. And it held him back. Dark Shoreline is acrylic, India ink and gesso on paper / 15”x22”
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Visitor Upon the Winds See this Visitor Upon the Winds? / His mission is clear to him: / Pummel and raze and eviscerate. See this Visitor Upon the Winds? / His arm shatters mountains, / His breath twists oceans. See this Visitor Upon the Winds? / His mission is destruction. / Ferocity is his life. See this Visitor Upon the Winds? / He doesn’t see you. / Or care. We’re under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning right now…not the worst thing, and it looks like things should be OK. But I’ve been in a tornado (just a small one) and I’ve witnessed a boat founder in a waterspout. This image is dedicated to all the people who have fallen victim to the incredible destruction caused by these Visitors Upon the Winds. This image is an edited fractal that I painted. It’s the first time I’ve tried to do a painting of a figure on a fractal (although I’ve added lots of brushstrokes to add shapes and colors to fractals). I’m waaaaaaaay out of my comfort-zone with this one, so I hope someone likes it! / / / / /
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Where will I go ? What shall I do ? / All questions for the future…. Straight from my Canon A630. / 352 views ~ 11 nov.2009 Featured in Newfangled nonedited photography. Written by Erhan : The place you belong to is / The place you feel your home, / The place where you feel the peace / Inside of your heart, / Your mind with “no minds”… / THe door leads you to / The place where you belong to / THe place; / Inside of your heart.. October10, 2009 / Erhan OZBIYIK
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Abstract macro photography rust and paint on a dumpster. / (300 Viewings) Severe Weather Warning Card Severe Weather Warning Matted Print Severe Weather Warning Laminated Print Severe Weather Warning Mounted Print Severe Weather Warning Canvas Print Severe Weather Warning Framed Print Features: Severe Weather Warning was featured in All Abstract Art / Severe Weather Warning featured The Fine Art Of Peeling Paint / Severe Weather Warning was featured in Photography Fun / Severe Weather Warning was featured inThe Art Of Intrigue
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I found these colours so beautiful on another great door I came across. Straight from my Canon A630. Featured in The World As We See It , or as we missed it.
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camera: hp photosmart 735 / Abstract macro photography paint on a dumpster. / A windy day… featured in The 100 – 499 VIEWINGS GROUP / (255 Viewings) / A windy day in October was featured on the RB Home Page November 9/09 A windy day in October – Greeting Card A windy day in October – Matted Print A windy day in October – Laminated Print A windy day in October – Mounted Print A windy day in October – Canvas Print A windy day in October – Framed Print you might also like: Bewitched Greeting Card Bewitched Matted Print Bewitched Laminated Print Bewitched Mounted Print Bewitched Canvas Print Bewitched Framed Print Features: A windy day in October was featured on the RB Home Page November 9/09 RedBubble A windy day in October was featured in Abstract Macro Urban Art / A windy day… featured in The 100 – 499 VIEWINGS GROUP
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Featured in JPG Cast-Offs Oct 09 A macro image of a green dump bin which has been knocked by a heavy vehicle
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EDT…it’s the edge of winter…snow, wet, dark, light, night, day…a time when S.A.D is pre-eminent…it takes time to adjust, and some wait in limbo for EDT in March, but some embrace the changes…I don’t like the dark that sets in so early, so I have daylight bulbs in all my lamps…six weeks from now it’s the solstice and we start looking forward to lighter days Thomas Hood expresses it beautifully for us Watercolour on Sennelier Not Paper CLICK HERE TO SEE THE ENTIRE WINTER COLLECTION No sun-no moon! / No morn-no noon! / No dawn-no dusk-no proper time of day- / No sky-no earthly view— / No distance looking blue .. No road-no street- / No “t’other side the way”- / No end to any Row- / No indications where the Crescents go .. No top to any steeple- / No recognitions of familiar people- / No courtesies for showing ‘em— / No knowing ‘em! No mail-no post- / No news from any foreign coast- / No park-no ring-no afternoon gentility- / No company—no nobility .. No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, / No comfortable feel in any member— / No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, / No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, / November!...Thomas Hood / Effet De Neige
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“Spellbound” is part of the Winter and Portrait Collection…the painting captures the feeling of submitting ones own will to the tyrannical demands of the storm….my portrayal is one of a goddess of winter…with the red berries in her hair, she embodies its stillness, its sense of silence, darkness, and bitter cold..the falling snow is a “poem of the air,” wrote Longfellow, where the “troubled sky reveals the grief it feels.” / Winter is a time to concentrate on renewing and affirming human relationships. Watercolour on Arches Not Paper… Featured in Out of The Blue Views..134 VIEW THE ENTIRE WINTER COLLECTION HERE The night is darkening round me, / The wild winds coldly blow; / But a tyrant spell has bound me / And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending / Their bare boughs weighed with snow. / And the storm is fast descending, / And yet I cannot go. Clouds beyond clouds above me, / Wastes beyond wastes below; / But nothing dear can move me; / I will not, cannot go...E. Bronte / Forever Autumn VIEW THE ENTIRE PORTRAIT COLLECTION HERE
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About This Painting / I used to travel on circuit throughout the central North Island of New Zealand, and the stretch of country from Rotorua through to Whakatane always fascinated me. Many times I managed to squeeze in a few minutes to sketch or take a photo. I never saw it looking like this – but that’s what’s called artist’s licence, isn’t it! Acrylic on canvas board. Sold to a collector in Hamilton NZ. About The Giclee Prints About The Framed and Matted Prints Featured in my ‘Wild New Zealand’ Calendar: /
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there she stood / agaze at sparks / feeling nature’s tear / dance on cheeks / with quickened hearts / never feeling fear ♥
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By the time we got to Little Milton, the weather had changed…whose idea was it any way to go down on this weekend of all weekends….after all it was Christmas…Pamela had extended the invitation weeks ago, and none of us were keen on the idea then…a remote place…a house no one had seen, or heard of…Wren House?...the name conjured up nothing but a sense of moulding age…on Friday someone, maybe Tom, who was always bored and looking for excitement, made what seemed now to be an idiotic suggestion, that we should all drive down and visit old Pam…the day started out fine and we were in great spirits…even the ancient Rover seemed in good form as we rolled out of the city…it was just after dawn so there was no traffic, but by mid afternoon the wind changed, and it became very noticeable that there was no heat in the car…after the mornings hilarity, silence grew till it was almost palpable…even Dahlia’s feeble attempts to continue telling jokes fell flat….the sky grew much darker, and flurries of snow mixed with rain battered the windshield….Mark’s driving, erratic even in good weather, became downright dangerous on the treacherous roads over the downs…suddenly the old faithful car seemed to make a last gasp for breath and then died….peering out at the unfamiliar landscape we knew the worst… we had now lost our way...Janis (fiction..A Weekend in the Country) Watercolour on Clayboard..part of the Winter Landscape Collection, which is now featured on my art pages...HERE / And HERE / Effet De Neige
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“Lost” continues the story of four friends who set out for a Christmas weekend in the country…in the first chapter, seen HERE the friends’ day starts out joyfully, but soon deteriorates along with the weather, and they quickly become lost... Watercolour on Saunders Not Paper A moment or two of stunned silence, as it slowly dawned on us that we had no idea where we were…it was the days before Mapquest and GPS and cell phones…we-were-lost…the day was getting rapidly darker as the last of the pallid sun sank behind the hills…Dahlia started to whimper and Mark, never at his best in a crisis told her to shut up, at which she burst into tears…there was no help for it…we would have to get out and walk until we found shelter somewhere…at this suggestion Dahlia’s whimpers turned into yells…she had no boots, only thin shoes suitable for city streets…hearing this Mark completely lost his temper….Dahlia always drove him mad…one wonders why he repeatedly sought her out…after calming them both down I said I felt sure (not really), that the area looked somewhat familiar and there would be a farm or something nearby…after some argument, and taking as much as we could carry, we set off, Dahlia wearing a pair of Tom’s boots which were too large for her, all the while sobbing that we should stay with the car… / The road stretched ahead, bleak and desolate, here and there, patches of gleaming ice set to trap the unwary traveller, hill upon hill rising behind…a rocky terrain that did not bode well for anyone trying to negotiate it…not a creature stirred and no bird sang…the wind blew stinging ice pellets at our faces, and in no time our gloves and feet were soaked…but there were ancient dry stone walls edging the road..a sign that somewhere nearby would be shelter…..we turned a corner…”.LOOK” I cried..Janis Z..Fiction..A Weekend in the Country..Ch.2 Lost.. / A Weekend in the Country
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“The Grove” continues the story of four friends who set out for a Christmas weekend in the country…in the first chapter, seen HERE the friends’ day starts out joyfully, but soon deteriorates along with the weather, and they quickly become lost…in the second chapter seen HERE they decide to walk to their destination, but without any idea how to get there... Watercolour on Saunders Not Paper Look” I cried, but my cry fell on deaf ears…Dahlia, who had still been sobbing that we should stay with the car, terrified that she would fall, stumbled and actually fell, and before we knew it slid rapidly into one of the ditches that hidden by snow, lined the roadway…how to get her out without their falling on the treacherous ice, elicited a heated argument between Tom and Mark, Dahlia screaming and thrashing about all the while…finally by Tom yelling that “the more she moved the deeper she sank”, Dahlia got the message and the two men by lying prone on the icy lane, managed to drag her out dripping wet, but… without the boots…it was quickly apparent we would never get them back…no one could possibly reach down to try and find them…we dried her off as best we could, wrapped her in one of the blankets we had luckily brought with us and the two men elected to carry her in turn on their backs…that meant our progress was slower than ever…worse yet, the only torch we had was now flickering badly…to save the battery I turned it off, hoping that we would be guided by the light of the waning moon…... / Suddenly I remembered what I had seen…I turned back excitedly…”Look there”...I pointed to a spot ahead of us…I had seen what looked like a small sheltered grove, but what had really astonished me was the light…blazing brilliant light pouring down through the trees as if from the skies…”Look where? asked Tom…”There” I replied…then stopped silent…my hand dropped to my side…the light had gone…there was nothing there….only impenetrable darkness stared back at us... / Lost / A Weekend in the Country
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“The Visitor” is part 5 of the story of four friends who set out for a Christmas weekend in the country and land themselves in a frightening adventure..the first four chapters can be read by clicking on the links on the images seen below Watercolour on Arches Not Paper I froze, not daring to breathe, and slowly turned to see if one of us had gone out, but in the darkness of the room I could see the faint outline of three shapes…then if it wasn’t us, who was it? / At that moment Dahlia who was lying right next to me, chose to wake up and seeing the door open, was about to exclaim out loud…I clapped my hand over her mouth and the two of us stared mesmerized at the figure in the doorway…then suddenly and silently as it had appeared, it turned and vanished… we sat for what seemed like hours, afraid to move…finally as the skies began to lighten, I rose and went to the door…a hurried look outside showed that the storm had abated, and the sun was beginning to rise…no one was about and there were no footsteps leading to and from the bothy… / I turned back to find that the men were stirring and exclaiming over a stack of wood, some milk and bread, that were standing near the hearth….Dahlia and I exchanged a look and quickly cried in unison, “we must have overlooked them last night”…she and I were the only ones who knew about our night visitor and for once in accord, decided to keep silent…... / After we had something to eat, we would have to plan our next move…that is if we could move at all…we were marooned.... / Mark / The Bothy / The Grove / Lost / A Weekend in the Country
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