Sioux
1 member found
77 creative works found
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Pencil on 500 lb. Bristol Vellum
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Native American man waiting for the Grand Entry at a wacipi (powwow) in the Black Hills of South Dakota…...so focused and intent..very much “In the Moment”.
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Contemplative Native American Dancer waiting to enter the ring at the “wacipi”.
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Native American man at a Black Hills Powwow…..
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Beautiful Aztec dancer at a Native American Powwow. She glowed with such an inner beauty and danced like a Goddess. It was hard to take your eyes off of her!
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This stunning beauty was the most amazing dancer!
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Native American boy at a powwow (wacipi). He looked so serious and focused!
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Hand of a male dancer at a powwow in the Black Hills. The beadwork is amazing!
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Small Dancer letting the photographer know he was no pushover.
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From a Vision Quest a shaman talks to the Sacred White Buffalo whose legends foretell the Natives’ Messiah in the 7th generation. *for Roger who inspired me with confidence.
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Nominated by Irene Burdell for Pay It Forward. / This is what she had to say about your image “It is very difficult to choose one particular artist as there are so many whom I admire and I am inspired by , but I decided, / I would like to nominate frogster and his image Hanyewi Valley. / I have know Larry for two years and I admire his work enormously . He is a digital artist and the variation in his work always amazes me , from beautiful landscapes to real horrors .I found it difficult to choose a specific piece but decided on this one . / I love the feeling of peace and solitude and the detail and time which Larry has put into it . It is a wonderful work of art .” In the Native American Sioux language *Hanyewi means Moon Translated by Chief Yellow Lark – 1887 Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the winds / Whose breath gives life to the world, hear me / I come to you as one of your many children / I am small and weak / I need your strength and wisdom May I walk in beauty / Make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset. / Make my hands respect the things you have made / And my ears sharp to your voice. / Make me wise so that I may know the things you have taught your children. The lessons you have written in every leaf and rock / Make me strong! / Not to be superior to my brothers, but to fight my greatest enemy….myself Make me ever ready to come to you with straight eyes, / So that when life fades as the fading sunset, / May my spirit come to you without shame. Feature Used Vue Esprit 5 and PhotoShop CS A 3D digital image Image copyright © 2008, Larry Fridel. Copying and displaying or redistribution of this image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
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This handsome Native American gentleman had such wise and warm eyes….taken at a wacipi (powwow) on Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota. This is an “as is” image, no enhancements, no manipulations. 35mm film, Fuji Astia. Taken with my trusty Nikon F3 camera.
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It was in the bathroom at work that I discovered a drain that read “Sioux Chief.” Only, I thought it said Sous Chef… thus the idea was born!!
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Pop Art is a visual art movement that emerged in the mid 1950s in Britain and in parallel in the late 1950s in the United States. Pop Art challenged tradition by asserting that an artist’s use of the mass produced visual commodities of popular culture is contiguous with the perspective of Fine Art since Pop removes the material from its context and isolates the object, or combines it with other objects, for contemplation. The concept of Pop Art refers not as much to the art itself as to the attitudes that led to it.
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Flying Hawk – Sioux Original image: Library of Congress More of this series: / / / / / / / / / /
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Written by Dawnsky2 / This night was calm and still. Above the treetops the stars spoke to one another of times past. The Moon Spirits silver light rested on my shoulder and bathed my soul. Alone was I and becoming at one with the nature. / The orange flicker of the small fire I had made to help me on my quest, held my eyes at its centre. A warm homely feeling fluttered in my stomach and crept slowly to my heart, where it stayed. The crackle and spit of damp wood burning comforted me, my shoulders loosened, I sighed deeply. Resting softly on the palm of my hand was the Crow feather, many of the barbs had parted, rendering it aged and worn. Gently, between my thumb and fore finger I stroked these barbs. Never would they sit together again, but its appearance didn’t matter, it was what it stood for that mattered to me. I closed my eyes and reflected upon a distant memory, one that seemed to be all around me, one that drifted silently upon a fond breeze, and hovered above me with the strength and gracefulness of the Hawk. I knew I would stay strong under his wing. / With the warmth in my face and the smell of my little fire, I was whisked away and a memory brought to the fore. In that instance I had gently slipped, to a Nation elapsed. Upon that fond breeze, furthermost from my minds eye, and shrouded in the finest mist, came a fluttering of feathers. I watched in anticipation as they grew ever closer, ever larger. The Crow feather in my hand became warm to hold, and trembled as if in expectancy of meeting old friends. / Across the mountains to the left, came the familiar light air that would touch my soul; it weaved toward me, with gentle strokes that settled on my face. With it, came the sound of drums beating the rhythm of life, carried on timeless winds. For me the beating drums seemed distant, yet so near, and in my very soul I knew what they were. They were the many beating hearts, of my Ancestors. They would come to Guide me, to walk with me, to teach and show me. A tender blanket of protection draped over my being, wrapping around my very spirit, keeping me warm and safe. And the Spirits of nature spoke. / The Forest of tallest trees heard the beating drums and answered in hushed voices, promising to shelter, promising to provide food and sustain the life within. / Wild horses on the plain heard them. In one huge body they galloped at great speed, the thundering of their hooves echoed in the stillness of this night. Their power emanating from the great strength held in their bodies and spiritual souls. / I glanced down; the coolest most refreshing water touched my bronzed toes. I traced its source with my minds eye. Along the river, women gathered precious water for their families to drink, to nourish their crops and water their animals. More valuable to them was this water, / The Water of Life, than the yellow stone often found in the river. Before my very eyes the crystal waters, so pure and true, turned red. Despair filled my heart and as if something knew I was not ready for this insight, the water instantly became fresh and clear, all but my face and the Crow feathers in my hair reflected upon the rippling surface. / Behind me, in their rustling spirit voices, the trees warned me of a predator, the wolf. I turned to see his cunning eyes lock upon me. He held his head low. I felt sure he thought I would not see him hiding there, but I did and as by some strange understanding that had passed between us, he turned and walked away. Stopping only once, to look back at me. All of a sudden the mists came. The Moon began to fade. The horses thundered away into the dust created by their many hooves, the women walked from their river and became absent. The Forest around me became silent and the Hawk flew back to distant skies. / The only thing that was left was a true feeling of my Ancestors, standing at my side for always, to Guide me, to walk with me and show me. With heavy lids, my eyes opened. My fire had all but gone, just a solitary wisp of smoke slowly ascended, I watched it curl around unseen objects before dispersing. / Through the trees the Sun rose, bringing the earth below alive once again. / A new day had begun, I cradled the insights of a Nation elapsed in my innermost core. / I still held the Crow feather gently in my hand, but now instead on just one, I had two. / Written by Dawnsky2, / for “the Sioux Warrior”
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Wanageeska: Sioux name meaning ” white spirit.” Image copyright © 2009 Lisa C. Weber. Copying and displaying or redistribution of this image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
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Digital Manipulation.
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American Indian Dancer in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Digital painting from an original photo.
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Mother deer with her two fawns drinking water along the shore of Lake of the Woods, Ontario.
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Tipi Village on the Prairie, Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota
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Sunset on Lake of the Woods, Ontario.
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