Sanity
151 creative works found
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coloured pencil
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tell ‘em mark!!!! test has a gray shadow border so it shouled show up on darker tees?
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Oil on canvas
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Taken about a year ago, right after I had a change in my medications. This has been my life saver for the past 6 years. The amount has tripled since I’ve taken this picture, but for the first time in 6 years, I’m finally able to start coming off of them. I’ve been on so many meds that I shake constantly, so I have to take anti-seizure meds to keep it from getting too bad. Though that may seem upsetting at first, I view it as a reality check (ironic seeing as most of these are for schizophrenia) that everything is always changing, our minds never stop, our bodies never stop, the world never stops. So as my medication changes, the world changes, and I, myself, change as well as my views and perception of reality. / But as far as the title, as I said earlier, it’s been a life saver. I never said anything about it bringing me happiness, it’s only made me sane enough to have the will to be happy. Anti-Depressants and Anti-Psychotics can never bring you happiness, you have to bring it upon yourself. All they can do is correct the imbalance of chemicals to get you to be able to be happy, but not be happy. And Over the past 6 years, soon to be 7, It’s taken me this entire time to realize that, but it also has given me a better outlook on my future. There are some medications I can never get off of, but I don’t let that keep me down, I use that to help me grow, and open my mind to what “sanity” and “reality” truely are.
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This abstract looks like shards of glass. It actually is a multi-colored tile that I manipulated to look like a dangerous region populated by malicious creatures that threaten the sanity of those who dare enter this dark realm. The master of the abyss is the large figure on the left wall with a large horn and what appears to be a missing ear. Figures are clinging to the walls to avoid falling into the shards of glass that are occupied by demonic figures. On the far upper right, can you see the tortured face of a woman in black and white screaming in terror? Can she be saved from a horrible fate? There are many other images to be discovered in this abstract photograph? I am always interested in what you perceive and the stories that accompany your projections.
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Charcoal, chalk, Pastel / One of a series of works created for a solo exhibition In Your Face - All the pieces were sized A3 - this enabled me to offer colour prints / photocopied images for sale - The aim was to make the work accessible to all / This has since proved to be a theme of mine as I now produce ACEO - which are trading card sized (3.5”x2.5”) and also aimed at enabling all to be able to own original artwork. /
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ACEO / Original / 2.5×3.5” Collage – torn paper, diamanté ‘studs’ / pastel pen acrylic paint Completed June 18th 08 *Original Available to Purchase – £57 + £3 Postage* /
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Coffee = Sanity.
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”...Now I understand what you tried to say to me, / How you suffered for your sanity, / How you tried to set them free. / They would not listen, they did not know how. / Perhaps they’ll listen now. For they could not love you, / But still your love was true. / And when no hope was left in sight / On that starry, starry night, / You took your life, as lovers often do. / But I could have told you, Vincent, / This world was never meant for one / As beautiful as you. ‘ ‘Starry Starry Night- Don McLean Lyrics’ Reference Graphite pencil on A4 paper, about 30 mins. This Portrait is available in my 2009 calendar!
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For Purchase Information: / J.Harris | NekoPhoto.com / tel: 801.541.6900 /
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[the scenery.] ° / ° / ° / °
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Digital Manipulation of Photo /
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Art and Madness
by RedBubbleVan Gogh cuts off his ear. Sylvia Plath gasses herself. The …
Van Gogh cuts off his ear. Sylvia Plath gasses herself. The link between art and madness gets too deeply explored by some artists. And 80 RedBubblers get into the act in a town outside of Melbourne. They gather for a weekend of art and photography in a disused asylum. WARNING VIDEO CONTAINS ADULT MATERIAL / I could leave it at that. But you know me. So, just a quick thought. I constantly hear (and have heard) of the difference between being practical and useful or not. Having that winning grasp on reality is what is esteemed. And it occurs to me that art dances on the edge of a sort of madness. With art we embellish reality. We go deep behind the pragmatic and we scream that there is more. We declare our humanity lies not in the food we eat and the dollars we earn but in that which cannot be counted and which has no (real) value. Our art stares reality in the eye and offers up a tulip. Tragically some artists push this too far and lose their sanity to art. But out there in the “real” world a greater tragedy unfolds with thousands sacrificing their humanity to a smothering mundanity. You can see the full work produced by the RedBubbler’s at Aradale here. And if you would like help and advice on organising a meetup then please contact support@redbubble.com. Martin (aka PIlgrim)
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Paint your palette blue and grey / Look out on a summer’s day / With eyes that know the darkness in my soul Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and the daffodils / Catch the breeze and the winter chills / In colours on the snowy linen land Now I understand / What you tried to say to me / And how you suffered for your sanity / And how you tried to set them free / They would not listen they did not know how / Perhaps they’ll listen now. Starry starry night Flaming flowers that brightly blaze / Swirling clouds in violet haze / Reflect in Vincent’s eyes of china blue / Colours changing hue / Morning fields of amber grain / Weathered faces lined in pain / Are soothed beneath the artist’s LOVING hand Now I understand / What you tried to say to me / And how you suffered for your sanity / And how you tried to set them free / They would not listen they did not know how / Perhaps they’ll listen now For they could not love you / But still your love was true / And when no hope was left inside / On that starry starry night You took your life as lover’s often do But I could have told you, / Vincent, / This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you Starry starry night Portraits hung in empty halls / Frameless heads on nameless walls / With eyes that watch the world and can’t forget / Like the strangers that you’ve met The ragged men in ragged clothes / A silver thorn / A bloody rose / Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow / Now I think I know / What you tried to say to me / And how you suffered for your sanity / And how you tried to set them free / They would not listen / They’re not listening still Perhaps they never will – Words by Don McLean Music – Art of Noise – On Being Blue / For Vincent Painting in acrylics, inks, pigment, chalk and graphite / 100×42 cm on paper
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i have been trying to work on more postive paintings …..but it seems the more postive I go the wose I feel…..kinda like someone rubbing your face in their happiness when you are feeling down …. so sometimes getting that little bit of crazy out makes me feel a whole lot better….
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Original ACEO by DreddArt / Unique ID# 0028 / Drawing – Collage / PreCut ACEO white card Acrylic Paint Ballpoint Pen Pastel Torn paper collage /
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If you find it, you get to keep it.
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Trudging across the strange orange ice had taken its toll upon all of us. This planet – this hideous place – had not been meant for human beings and it killed us slowly, without mercy. Draining our energy, leaching away our strength, sucking the very willpower to live from our beings. Snow-blindness took on an entirely different meaning when there was no snow; nothing was white. But the worst terror of all was the new sound in the night. Sound that seemed to come from some massive machine: rhythmic, pulsing, grating – we all had a different name for it, a different horror for each mind to handle, or to fail to handle. Two of us were all but catatonic in the 30-hour nights here. Time that was equally divided between lit and unlit should have been manageable and we’d all trained for it. But once the sound started, night seemed to take up 90% of planet’s rotational cycle and we were left with 10% of our time floundering towards an emergency pod we never intended to use. And now, with no clear direction to go, we were left to ponder our mortality in the precious few minutes of arduous movement through cold so bitter it stiffened our E-suits. The scientists had thought the planet might be water-cored but there was no way to tell until the first boots hit the ground, whatever ground might be here. We’d seen no water and nothing to suggest anything liquid could remain fluid under these conditions. Then the noises began under us and all bets were off. Now it was a race to get off this frozen football-shaped planet circling a sun we can’t see with our instruments, much less our human eyes. The sound. Now. Well past what we termed as lightfall. The sound. Gigantic with no firm concept of size for us to imagine. But now, for the first time, during the only time period we could see well enough to remain lost and know it. The sound. Then with one terrifying motion, what we knew to be firm lost its solidity and a claw the size of a peak in the Alps came thru the shattered ice. Looming over us until we looked downward to see the surface underfoot began to rapidly darken with the approach of the body that owned the claw… At that moment, the remainder of us who had managed to stay sane lost that sanity and waited for our doom to fully arise. A short story fragment written while eating orange cream sherbet. See? Eating the wrong things before bedtime can cause daymares too. ;-)
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The only thing that constitutes being “normal” is the fear of being judgement. We drown our own creative insanity in fear of what neighbors might say. Shame on us all.
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