Poetry 1. rabid pointed plan / fingered wild inbreed / cross eyed and blood shot it twitches and flails / like an allergic child / in a…
the Chinese character for “busy” means “losing one’s mind”....in that case am I a lost cause?....
Chinese Brush Painting How To 6 Qi and The Brush
The Tao is always there….it is the changes of the seasons, day into night, birth, death, growth and decay, and underlies everything w…
Chinese Brush Painting- How To Part 7 Tao and Colour Washes
Scathes my lack of intention / Attacks my dullard fears / Presses me on / And pulls the reigns of attention / Back from unconscious years.
I / wrote this piece when I finished the Art..
Your chance to meet Artist Carrie Glenn is at the Astoria Sunday Market on July 27th 2008 from 10-am to 3-pm.
What a pair of Kidneys I have, They dream of ones like these
I went to this most amazing Artist Gallery, Devalyn Marshall.. I knew I wanted her work at our little ole’ Group.. ABSTRACT DIGITAL ART AND WRITING GROUP.. OR ADAWG / Then I saw her work…..DESIGNER KIDNEYS WOW.. YOU CAN SEE WHY I WAS INSPIRED.. PLEASE LOOK AT HER BODY OF WORK!! /
I was frozen with fear at the sight of this two toned monster, her eyes bulging with anger…
“People with high self-esteem tend to like their names more,”. It’s called the “mere-ownership effect.”
/ Isabella Watercolour on Paper….
At Jose Andres’ six-seat Minibar in Washington, D.C., diners can order a red beet mojito, a refreshing minty concoction sweetened with th…
/ Watercolour on Arches Paper Roasted Beet, Peach, and Goat Cheese Salad 2 beets, scrubbed / 1 bunch mache (lamb’s lettuce), rinsed / and dried / 1 bunch arugula, rinsed and dried / 2 fresh peaches – peeled, pitted and sliced / 2 shallots, chopped / 1/4 cup pistachio nuts, chopped / 1 (4 ounce) package goat cheese, / crumbled / 1/4 cup walnut oil / 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar / salt and pepper to taste / DIRECTIONS: / 1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Wrap each beet in two layers of aluminum foil, and place onto a baking sheet. Bake in the preheated oven until the beets are tender, about 1 hour and 20 minutes. Allow the beets to cool slightly, then remove the skins. Let the beets cool to room temperature, or refrigerate until cold. Once cooled, thinly slice the beets. / 2. Place the mache and arugula into a large mixing bowl. Add the sliced beets and peaches; sprinkle with the shallots, pistachios, and goat cheese. In a separate bowl, whisk together the walnut oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper until emulsified, and pour over the salad mixture. Toss well, and serve.
A mysterious color, purple is associated with both nobility and spirituality. The opposites of hot red and cool blue combine to create th…
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple / With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. / And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves / And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. / I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired / And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells / And run my stick along the public railings / And make up for the sobriety of my youth. / I shall go out in my slippers in the rain / And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens / And learn to spit. / You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat / And eat three pounds of sausages at a go / Or only bread and pickle for a week / And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. / But now we must have clothes that keep us dry / And pay our rent and not swear in the street / And set a good example for the children. / We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. / But maybe I ought to practice a little now? / So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised / When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple....Jenny Joseph This delightful poem that speaks of growing old in a wonderfully outrageous style was written in 1961 by Jenny Joseph who lives in Minchinhampton, England. / It is cherished by thousands of women throughout the world and practically everyone who enjoys its light humor wants to know more about its meaning and to learn about the author, Jenny Joseph... /
All its branches are outlined, and in its nakedness..
..the decorative art market will suffer along with the general economy…
/ Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance to Forget...Watercolour…
Routines, rituals, and traditions are good for both your physical and mental health….
After Apple-Picking / / My long two-pointed ladder’s sticking through a tree / Toward heaven still, / And there’s a barrel that I didn’t fill / Beside it, and there may be two or three / Apples I didn’t pick upon some bough. / But I am done with apple-picking now. / Essence of winter sleep is on the night, / The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. / I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight / I got from looking through a pane of glass / I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough / And held against the world of hoary grass. / It melted, and I let it fall and break. / But I was well / Upon my way to sleep before it fell, / And I could tell / What form my dreaming was about to take. / Magnified apples appear and disappear, / Stem end and blossom end, / And every fleck of russet showing clear. / My instep arch not only keeps the ache, / It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round. / I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend. / And I keep hearing from the cellar bin / The rumbling sound / Of load on load of apples coming in. / For I have had too much / Of apple-picking: I am overtired / Of the great harvest I myself desired. / There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, / Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall. / For all / That struck the earth, / No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble, / Went surely to the cider-apple heap / As of no worth. / One can see what will trouble / This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is. / Were he not gone, / The woodchuck could say whether it’s like his / Long sleep, as I describe its coming on, / Or just some human sleep... .Robert Frost
If you don’t want paradise, you are not human…
/ What is divinity if it can come / Only in silent shadows and in dreams? / Shall she not find in comforts of the sun, / In pungent fruit and bright, green wings, or else / In any balm or beauty of the earth, / Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven? / Divinity must live within herself: / Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow; / Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued / Elations when the forest blooms; gusty / Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; / All pleasures and all pains, remembering / The bough of summer and the winter branch, / These are the measures destined for her soul. ..Wallace Stevens /
Through the proper use of photographs it is possible to produce a work that you can feel proud to have finished….
/ The sketch, on it’s way to a finished painting.
Pricing art is an art form in itself…it requires its own skills and awareness_.
The fiery shades of fall, cast a special light on the world…we know what’s coming, but for now we’re in denial…
/ The River (Link) The Journey continues…no one told us that we would find such peace along the road…here the water barely sighs as it meets the shore…a good place to rest tonight.... There’s a crystal-arrowed riffle at the turning of the river, / There’s a waterfall where nature teachers school, / There’s a bank of swaying alder with each budding twig aquiver, / And there’s magic in the murmur of the pool! / Can’t you see the cold, blue water as it eddies, sparkles, flashes / In the willow-shadowed reaches of the stream, / And the ever-widening ripples where the trout, in falling, splashes / As the osprey drops his quarry with a scream. / Night (Link) The road felt long today, but now we’re almost there…the night feels friendly as we walk together….speaking in whispers, so as not to frighten the stars.... Moonlight gently cascading down, / Leaves glowing under its touch, / Softly swaying in the night. / Trees stand as silent guardians / Watching over sleeping animals. / Moths flutter about in search of radiance / As fireflies perform an illuminating dance. / Grass quietly rustles as / The warm breeze caresses it. / The earth sleeps under a blanket of darkness. / Sunset (Link)...Made it to the Home Page… It’s getting too dark to linger now, and storm clouds are massing over the last fiery embers as the sun sinks into the horizon….no more time if we’re to meet near the heath before dark…wings of warning overhead tell me hurry….hurry.... The timbre of my voice calls out to you / Like the low comforts of distant thunder / Urging preparations for a coming storm— / But resolving into a gentle cleansing rain / All is silent, but the whispered breaths / That only you can hear— / I am ever, always—near. / Is it Shangri La? (Link to Page) The travellors have stopped at what seems to be an earthly paradise…but is it? Waiting for that paradise is all we can do / Hoping for a utopia / ...A temporary escape / Blissful beauty / Peace and tranquility / ...A temporary escape / Searching for that far away haven / Our secluded hideaway / The heaven on Earth / ...A temporary escape / Because happiness is just a word / An empty feeling / ...A temporary escape / So why not drown ourselves in a blissful haven? / Hide from the obcenities of the world / Find…A temporary escape / That person… / Whom can be your imaginary paradise? / Who is your Shangri La? The Journey will continue.
You must ask for what you really want. / Don’t go back to sleep.
We came up river and landed at D near sundown…in the distance we could see the shapes of some buildings, but it was hard to make out what they were….since we had run out of rations the day before, we were hoping against hope to get food nearby, but it didn’t look too good for that….some of us decided to go ashore and forage…the light of the sun flamed over the horizon as the four men approached our boat. The walk home couldn’t be more glorious if this symphony is playing to accompany you on the last part of the journey. Oh! if this could be every day of your life. Every night / The horizon lights up / Swirls of pink and orange / Fading to blue and purple / Few bother to look anymore / You can still see a piece / A piece of something / Something never to return / For the colors are shimmering / For a moment they stay / Only to disappear into change / Change just as beautiful as the last J. Millsaps This could be fiery noon, someplace, anywhere….the sun is in ablaze in the distance, but cool blue water is at your feet…rest awhile before the journey continues. The sun, whose rays / Are all ablaze / With ever-living glory, / Does not deny / His majesty — / He scorns to tell a story! / He don’t exclaim, / “I blush for shame, / So kindly be indulgent.” / But, fierce and bold, / In fiery gold, / He glories all effulgent. The Mikado It has been a good day and the walk home is gentle and unhurried…time to stop and admire the soft hues of the sunset…there is a feeling of rain in the air, but still you wait patiently for the last rays to disappear. A lowering sky as night falls…the fiery red of the sun at the horizon, the deep blackness of the hills, a feeling of mystery…but we’re together tonight, and that’s what matters. You darkness, that I come from, / I love you more than all the fires / that fence in the world, / for the fire makes / a circle of light for everyone, / and then no one outside learns of you. / But the darkness pulls in everything; / shapes and fires, animals and myself, / how easily it gathers them!— / powers and people— / and it is possible a great energy / is moving near me. I have faith in nights.
My heart is crying in the cold…
Precious friend, See yourself as God sees you. He sees you righteous in the righteousness of Jesus. He sees you as his son/daughter. *You…
You are a brand new creation an new person.
a little bit of the background on how to make a really big painting with fire and lime straight on to the landscape.
It’s perfectly legal to indulge oneself in the RedBubble habit..but you can’t get the same heady feeling unless you join up..
/ The Lily
All this stuff about aggressive marketing is not worth a prayer if the work is substandard.
/ The Temptation
When artists gain a following for their work, whatever style or subject they choose to feature may ultimately become their rut..
/ Autumn
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