I am a writer of fantasy fiction that often surrounds middle-aged women. I am a married mother of two and granny to three, a BoHo Chic kinda gal. I am recently retired and busier than when I worked 9-5. But writing and blogging is my main game.
Born in Biella in 1968, Alessandro Ciffo joined the world of design only in 1997.
Self-teaching and self-production are the key words of his artistic journey, which is based on the research of the potentialities of silicone, his one and only medium, the only material capable of fully expressing his emotions.
With an outstanding technical control, mastered through tireless experimentations and endless patience, Ciffo creates artefacts that cannot be easily classified, as they are a crossroads between art and design.
Usually employed in sealants, adhesives and insulation, a humble material like silicone becomes poetry in his hands.
With an outstanding technical control, mastered through several experimentations and infinite patience, Ciffo creates one-of-a-kind artifacts.
The material, having abandoned the working tool, is transformed into the typical moustache of this tropic silicone.
Every single tile presupposes a precise, repetitive and always the same gesture.
a pleasant visionary usually wishful creation of the imagination
How often do you daydream? How far do your daydreams take you?
I believe we all escape our reality now and then. Whether it’s by thinking of days gone by or stopping at the grocery store on the way home, our thoughts often wander helter skelter away from our current activity and into a pretend world of coulda and shoulda and what if.
There are books and movies about daydreams: song lyrics, names of paintings, and even sites on Google that tell you how to do it.
Why does our mind want to wander around the planet so often?
Facebook likes to pop up memories from “this day” one or 10 years ago, and a lot of my posts were about wishing I were retired or sitting by a lake or in a café in Paris. Seems like I was proficient in daydreams time even back then.
Well, here I am, 70 and retired, and still wasting moments talking to Claude Monet about his gardens in Giverny or flirting with Antonio Banderas or hosting an elegant garden party for 18. Silly stuff I’d never do in real life.
I mean, what’s the point?
Is this dreaming about changing choices you’ve made? Forgetting painful parts of your life? Is it about pretending and wishing some things were different? Is it fantasizing about some other life style, some other place or moment in time other than the one you’re stuck in?
I think daydreaming is just a part of your genetic make up. A pressure valve that let’s off emotional steam. A chance to relate to people and places that are not part of your world. A chance to work out ‘what if’ from a different perspective.
Those of you who are artists (and I’m sure that’s most of you!) know that daydreaming is healthy for your creativity. The imagination is as solid a part of you as drinking water, and it needs exercise as well to keep it going. It’s an extension of your physical world.
You may think that once you’re older or retired you’ll have more time to daydream. To wander through enchanted woods or have a high powered job in Manhattan or be noticed by those whose attention you crave.
Let me tell you. You will be just as busy being retired than you ever could be working. And not just because you finally don’t have to punch a time clock or put up with obnoxious co workers or attend weekly unproductive meetings.
You will be busier because your daydream door is finally open, giving you a chance to read, to research, to experiment with your own and others daydreams. The more you learn, the finer tuned your thoughts will be.
Don’t wait for this day to come — come on in today! The water’s warm, the beach is open, and I’ve got that umbrella table over there where we can have lunch together!
Robin Callahan is a custom jewelry designer, metalsmith and lapidary artist with her own company, Robin Callahan Designs, LLC.The artist often sources rough gems directly from mines and specialty dealers, custom cuts gems, or has the best lapidary artists in the world facet/carve the gems, then designs and creates one of a kind heirloom-worthy jewelry.Callahan studied with masters in the industry to learn how to cut and facet her own gems, and was soon invited to show her lapidary work in prestigious museums and private collections.All her pieces are unique, featuring beautiful gemstones and pearls, in breathtaking settings.Callahan’s work is bold and creative, her finely crafted pieces the perfect showcase for her love of color and light, making custom- as well as fantasy-cut jewelry designs.She works mostly by commission, creating custom pieces for clients around the world.The artist is fortunate enough to work with the industry’s most talented and award-winning lapidaries, but on occasion and when time allows, enjoys cutting the gemstones herself.
Callahan considers herself brave, determined and a perfectionist. “This is beyond things like being creative and artistic, because you need those to be a jewelry designer and maker,” she explains.More of Robin Callahan‘s amazing jewelry can be found at https://shop.robincallahandesigns.com/
I was wandering through my past posts, looking to see how many posts I labeled “Faerie Paths — Dreams” and came across this little short snippet I wrote some time ago. This flash fiction piece was inspired by my first novel (yet to be published), about a woman who drives through a cornfield, crashes into an old oak tree, and wakes up in small town 1880.
I still remember the passion and emotions that electrified me as I wrote my first novel. It was magical.
Any of your past works still stir your passions?
Pretzel Dawn
Her car streaks down the highway in the granite dawn, her heartbeat matching the thrum of the tires. Fluorescent pinpoints from distant skyscrapers become nothing more than blurred starlight as she madly races towards her destiny…a destiny she has waited to fill longer than she can remember.
A sliver of apprehension cuts into her thoughts. A foreboding, like a ghost crossing her path. Why is it an effort to remember the number of the exit? Why does the city in the distance waver as if seen through crackled glass?
Metropolis turns into suburbia and then into country, yet she cannot slow down. Eventually the Buick veers from the concrete onto the tarmac of some long forgotten road lined with the skeletal remains of fall. Her window is open, the last breath of night air chilling her, thrilling her. It’s not far now.
Instinct drives her forward ― instinct and desire. He is somewhere ahead, pacing on the dew-covered grass beneath the maple archway. Watching. Waiting. She senses the sparkle of his chocolate eyes, his scent of sweat and hay and the muskiness from his turn-of-the-century charm.
The road ahead is shadowed. She doesn’t remember the giant oak tree on her last drive through this part of the countryside, nor the weathered barn in the distance. She cannot remember many details of her last visit — but it doesn’t matter. Her heart pounds faster as crimson streaks highlight the horizon.
She cannot bear to let him slip away again. Not without a word, without a touch. He is dark and deep, passion and fury, a flicker of days gone by. He said he would wait for her, and she promised to return.
The car’s acceleration slows, and tears of frustration well in her blue eyes. She is lost. Too many turns. Too many distractions. She cannot tell cliffs from moors, fields from meadows. The dark crimson glow over her shoulder is now a soft magenta ribboned with blue. She is running out of time. Hills to mountains to boulders along the side of the crushed gravel road, yet this has to be the way. The road twists in a pretzel design, dead-ending at a forest dark and primeval. She drives to the maple archway at the edge of the wooded glen and stops.
He stands at the hedgerow, a masculine glow in the twinkling dawn. She fumbles and stumbles through the tall brown grass and into his arms. She has made her way back through time.
Her need reaches out to him in the pale light of morning, his response soothing and gentle. His loving words curve and twist around her soul and down into the abyss of her dreams, curving and twirling and tumbling and swirling until they slowly turn into echoes from a conch shell. Eternity disappears in a starburst of angel wings, only to reappear as the soft drone of the morning alarm.
Degenerate Art was a term adopted in the 1920s by the Nazi Party in Germany to describe modern art.
Descent from the Cross, Max Beckmann
During the dictatorship of Adolf Hitler, German modernist art, including many works of internationally renowned artists, was removed from state-owned museums and banned in Nazi Germany on the grounds that such art was an “insult to German feeling”, un-German, Freemasonic, Jewish, or Communist in nature.
Magdeburger Ehrenmal, Ernst Barlac
Hitler’s rise to power in 1933 was quickly followed by actions intended to cleanse the culture of degeneracy: book burnings were organized, artists and musicians were dismissed from teaching positions, and curators who had shown a partiality for modern art were replaced by Party members.
Portrait of a Man, Erich Heckel
Those identified as degenerate artists were subjected to sanctions that included being dismissed from teaching positions, being forbidden to exhibit or to sell their art, and in some cases being forbidden to produce art.
Street Berlin, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner
The head of Reichskammer der Bildenden Künste (Reich Chamber of Visual Art), and his commission were authorized to confiscate from museums and art collections throughout the Reich any remaining art deemed modern, degenerate, or subversive.
These works were then to be presented to the public in an exhibit intended to incite further revulsion against the “perverse Jewish spirit” penetrating German culture.
Pharisees, Karl Schmidt-Rottluff
In July 1937, the German Nazi regime sponsored the Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art) exhibition in Munich.
The exhibition’s central theme was to “educate” the public on the “art of decay.”
The Blue Window, Henri Matisse
The exhibition featured over 650 paintings, sculptures, prints and books from the collections of 32 German museums.
The artworks were placed next to insulting texts which were supposed to prove how depraved the artists were and ridiculed by being juxtaposed with other works by the inmates of German lunatic asylums.
Despite this, public attendance exceeded all expectations. It is estimated that more than 2 million people passed through the cramped space in 1937.
In March 1939, the Berlin Fire Brigade burned about 4000 paintings, drawings and prints that had apparently little value on the international market.
Die großen blauen Pferde, Franz Marc
A similar act was conducted in the summer of 1942, in the gardens of the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume in Paris, in a bonfire which burned important pieces by Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dalí, Paul Klee, Fernand Léger and Joan Miró.
Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, Pablo Picasso
In this way, Germany began the confiscation of artworks deemed degenerate from a variety of museums throughout the Reich and combined the taken works into one single, coherent exhibition for their further ridicule and mockery.
En Canot, Jean Metzinger
TheV&Aholds the only known copy of a complete inventory of Entartete Kunstconfiscated by the Nazi regime from public institutions in Germany, mostly during 1937 and 1938. The list of more than 16,000 artworks was produced by the Reichsministerium für Volksaufklärung und Propaganda (Reich Ministry for Public Enlightenment and Propaganda) in 1942
The UMMA Exchangehas a list with pictures of all artists in the Degenerate Art Show.
I know baby boomers are two generations removed from today’s music, our kids and their contemporaries filling the gap between the two of us.
I know today’s music is supposed to be different than “Do Wha Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Doo,” and I respect that.
I also know music is music, that music is a universal expression of the soul, blah blah blah.
I just have to laugh, though, at the thought that no matter how much I adore music, how disconnected I am from “today’s” music. I mean — really disconnected. And how long I’ve been disconnected.
1 . “Wooly Bully” Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs 2. “I Can’t Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)” Four Tops 3. “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” The Rolling Stones 4 .”You Were on My Mind” We Five 5. “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'” The Righteous Brothers 6. “Downtown” Petula Clark 7 . “Help!” The Beatles 8. “Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat” Herman’s Hermits 9 .”Crying in the Chapel” Elvis Presley 10. “My Girl” The Temptations
I probably could sing along with every song up there. I sense a few younger eyeballs rolling up in the head. Understood.
David Zinn has been creating original artwork in and around Ann Arbor, Michigan since 1987.For more than twenty years, he freelanced for a wide variety of commercial clients while simultaneously sneaking “pointless” art into the world at large.Now, thanks to the temptations of a box of sidewalk chalk on an unusually sunny day, Zinn is known all over the world for the art he creates under his feet.
Zinn draws a range of quirky animal characters in his distinct, cartoon-like style. Each one is cleverly rendered to look as though it is interacting with the surrounding environment.His delightful chalk art features affable aliens, winged pigs, cute tiny dragons, and other wondrous creatures emerging from the ground, peeking through a crack on the wall, or just sitting on the sidewalk.Zinn’s temporary street drawings are composed entirely of chalk, charcoal and found objects, and are always improvised on location through a process known as “pareidolic anamorphosis” or “anamorphic pareidolia.”Most of his creatures appear on sidewalks in Michigan, but many have surfaced as far away as subway platforms in Manhattan, village squares in Sweden and street corners in Taiwan.Zinn’s creations are ephemeral as each piece can only last up to 10 days if left untouched onto sidewalks. Furthermore, the drawings can immediately be washed away in the rain, making their short-lived existence even more appreciated.More of David Zinn‘s magical chalk drawings can be found at https://zinnart.com/ and https://www.facebook.com/DavidZinnIllustration.
I wrote anonymous because I have no idea if anyone asked that in some poem or short story somewhere.
But the question really came from me.
Fooling around with garden implements, never content with leaving things as they are, I decided to brighten up one of my lawn ornaments with a bit of sparkly silver spray paint and, perhaps, some colorful eyes to reflect the sun.
What color are the sun’s eyes?
So I experimented.
The radiant golden color of sunshine itself: yellow...
The soft blush of a baby’s breath: pink …
The pure beauty of a summer sky: blue …
or the fertile fields of Earth’s cover: green …
Then I tried my last color set of eyes … and somehow they turned demon-like …
Sooooooo…. I did whatever a normal, shoulda-done-in-the-first-place artist would do …
Summer means barbeques, camping, beaches, mosquitoes, and art fairs.
For someone like me who partakes in two arts and crafts shows per summer, I am quite caught up in the hullaballoo of it all.
But more importantly (and wonderfully!), when it comes to art appreciation, summer is also the time to take advantage of your local fairs. County fairs, state fairs, city and town fairs are all places to really get into the heart and mind and pride of artists of all sizes and ages.There is indeed a ton of impressive art at, say, the Louvre or Metropolitan Museum of Art — but there is a ton of impressive art right out your back door, too.
Last week I went to our local county fair, jammed packed with familiarities such as funnel cakes, wild rides, and livestock competitions. It was also a showcase for local artists of all ages.
I happened to walk through the Open (exhibitors must be from the county and adjoining counties) and Senior (exhibitors must be age 62 and older) Exhibit, and was knocked out by the ribbon winners.There was also a Junior Exhibitors Art Competition [8 – 19 years of age and in good standing with the youth organization they represent], but there was something going on in their display barn. You could feel the passion that went into a painting or crocheted offering or a wirework necklace.The work was as impressive as any visit to a local art gallery.
So give up some of your free time and wander the barns and stalls and booths of your local art festivals. You’ll not regret it.
Jewelry artist Ashka Dymel was born in Warsaw, Poland.
After studies in liberal arts and foreign languages in Poland and Czechoslovakia, Dymel moved to the United States where she earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Environmental Design from Parsons School of Design in New York City.
All the jewelry is handmade in Brooklyn using sterling silver, 18k gold bimetal, and semi precious stones and minerals.
Dymel’s goal is to achieve harmony in modular repetitions and variations on geometric forms.
Her work is recognized by her unique method of capturing stones within metal frames creating negative space as an integral part of composition.
Use of thin wires to hold the elements together is another non-traditional technique allowing for movement and structural flexibility.
The combination of unique materials and methods results in joyful pieces of wearable art.
Jon Ching is a self-trained artist originally from Kaneohe, Hawaii and currently lives and works in Los Angeles, California.Steeped in the natural beauty of O’ahu, Hawai’i, his island upbringing instilled in him indigenous lessons of appreciation and respect for nature, forming the foundation of his fascination with the natural and wild world, which deeply influences and drives his work.Jon’s devoted art practice and detailed realism is inspired by the interconnectedness of nature.His work is a surreal imagining of what limitless wonders and combinations nature can produce.New creatures and symbioses emerge in his meticulously rendered oil paintings, exemplifying the endless potential of life on Earth through metaphor and allegory.Filled with vibrant images of flora and wildlife merging together to create new imaginary figures, Ching’s work invites us to recognize the “unseen magic” of nature..Jon’s ultimate hope is to inspire love and admiration for the universally unique beauty and intrigue of our planet.“One major concept I’m always trying to express in my work is the interconnectedness of everything.
“I think that seeing similarities in shapes and patterns across the natural world is a way to explore our connectedness, and once I started looking at things that way, I started to see it everywhere.”
Reflections written on the 4th of July …. No drinking, no drugs. Just reflecting…
July 4th evening.
Here’s this old lady in a boho dress, matching pink crystal dangle earrings, sitting at a picnic bench all by herself, listening to a Beatles cover band playing in the park, all alone in my corner, singing along with every song, looking (and no doubt sounding) like a dork.
And, finally, after ALL these years, not caring.
Why did it take over 60 years to get to this place?
I’m not a pretty 70 year old. The willowy, fragile, blowing kind of older beauty groupie that could get away with singing with the band I’m not. This 70 year old is a bit scary if you ask me. There are big bags under my eyes, sagging skin, too many pounds — the whole kit n’ caboodle.
But I’m one of those baby boomers whose life started with the Beatles. And whose life will most likely end with the Beatles.
It started many years ago with a state of mind not found in the world of 12-year-olds these days. A time when songs reflected the singers who projected themselves as innocent as they shared their hearts with innocent girls of the world. The circle of love was pure, simple, and forever.
We didn’t know any better.
And that was okay.
I have tears in my eyes as I belt out the words to PS I Love You and I’m Happy Just to Dance With You. At this very moment my heart hurts and I am short of breath. I am standing here by myself feeling 12 again.
Now that there’s a break in the presentation I wonder why these days gone by mean so much to me. Why do I feel so much more of a reaction to the Beatle’s A Hard Day’s Night than I do to Purple Rain by Prince (or whatever popular song of the past 50 years comes to mind)?
Why did I come by myself?
At first I thought coming to this fun performance alone was a bad idea. Concerts are better shared with others.
Yet I am so glad I came alone. I travelled back in time, running all over the place, remembering duck taping empty album covers all over my bedroom walls and writing my first ever story about me and Paul McCartney and the Beatles concert I went to at Comiskey Park in Illinois when I was 12.
What I love about Annie Fisher‘s quirky blogeat with an artist: fact, and fictionis that her incredible sense of art and collages and others’ creative artwork always combine into one fun, beautiful experience. Check her out!
David Hockney (1937- ) is an English painter, draftsman, printmaker, stage designer, and photographer.The artist studied at the Bradford College of Art (1953–57) and the Royal College of Art, London (1959–62), where he received a gold medal in the graduate competition. As an important contributor to the pop art movement of the 1960s, Hockney is considered one of the most influential British artists of the 20th century.His unmistakable style incorporates a broad range of sources from Baroque to Cubism and, most recently, computer graphics.Perhaps best known for his serial paintings of swimming pools, portraits of friends, and verdant landscapes, the artist’s oeuvre ranges from collaged photography and opera posters to Cubist-inspired abstractions and plein-air paintings of the English countryside.In the spirit of the Cubists, Hockney combines several scenes to create a composite view, choosing tricky spaces, like split-level homes in California and the Grand Canyon, where depth perception is already a challenge.In actively seeking to imitate photographic effects in his work, Hockney is a forerunner of the Photorealists.Hockney’s work transcends expressionism, modernism, and even pop art aesthetics.His colors, subjects, and expressive nature have contributed works that have continued to evolve and expand to this day.More of David Hockney‘s bright art can be found athttps://www.hockney.com/and the culture trip.
Writing ideas travel from the head, where they are born, to the heart, where they are felt, through the soul, where they are understood, and out through the fingertips where they are reborn.
Being a Goddess is more than a full time gig, let me tell you.
Although we are all knowing, all understanding, and all accepting, when we take on our human guise we realize we ain’t got ### on those who make a living living life.
I am of the older, wiser Goddess group. Which just means I’ve made more mistakes, wrong turns, and embarrassing utterances than those younger in age. I may “intellectually” know and sense that love is all, live each day fully, and each person interprets the world and those in it (and beyond it) in their own way, but I’m still a working girl at heart.
Having just come back from four days with kids and Gkids over the 4th, I haven’t stopped running. Between time travelling at an outdoor concert with a Beatles cover band to initiating a “July 4th Independence” movement to improve my health, I often wonder if the human way is worth the energy.
In the swing of my new “glamgardening ” experiment, I was out watering, inspecting, clipping, clamping, and wondering. (When do you pick baby eggplants from the houseplant bush? Am I supposed to cut back the heads of these spent flowers whose species I don’t remember? What are those symmetric black globs by each leaf of my day lilies? Should I let that Russian Sage that snuck back into the side garden stay?)
The other night I watched 13 Hours: the Secret Soldiers of Benghazi (fascinatin, true story of elite ex-military operators vs terrorists in Benghazi 2012), I began wondering, “how much of this true story is true?”
Also, I recently stopped taking anti depressants (with the support of my doctor), and am finding that I am crankier and crisper than ever. I don’t know if I will have sharp edged impressions and thoughts about the world forever, or if they will eventually mellow into highs and lows that are easier to ignore.
A lot of things to look up.
Now, you would think being the Goddess that I am I would know everything — the name of the plant that needs de-heading, percentage of truth in ‘based on a true story’ movies — and I suppose way back in the shadowed recesses of my mind I do.
But what fun is just knowing?
Half the fun of being a Goddess is re-experiencing things for myself. Discovering things I already knew. Researching things I’ve already researched. Realizing that the moment of discovery is really a moment of rediscovery.
That is what being a Goddess is all about. Constant rearranging. It’s what a God needs to do too, if your sex demands it. You already are there! Just acknowledge it! Relearn it! Enjoy it!
Agnolo di Cosimo ( Agnolo di Cosimo di Mariano Tori, 1503-1572), more popularly known as Bronzino, was a Florentine painter whose polished and elegant portraits are outstanding examples of the Mannerist style in the middle of the 16th century.Holy Family with St. Anne and the infant St. John
An Italian Mannerist painter from Florence, his classic embodiments of the courtly ideal under the Medici dynasty, influenced European court portraiture for the next century.Portrait of Bartolomeo Panciatichi
He trained with Pontormo, the leading Florentine painter of the first generation of Mannerism.Chapel of Eleonora da Toledo
Bronzino lived all his life in Florence, and from his late 30s was kept busy as the court painter of Cosimo I de’ Medici, Grand Duke of Tuscany.Cosimo de Medici in Armour
He became the official portraitist for the Medici dynasty and soon went to work painting the portraits of the ruling family members, which he is largely known for, and which is Bronzino’s greatest contribution to Mannerism.The Holy Family with the Infant Saint John the Baptist
His portrait figures – often read as static, elegant, and stylish exemplars of unemotional haughtiness and assurance – influenced the course of European court portraiture for a century.Eleanor of Toledo and her son Giovanni de’ Medici
These paintings, especially those of the duchess, are known for their minute attention to the detail of her costumes, which almost takes on a personality of its own.Portrait of a Young Man
His work is clean and crisp, a major accomplishment for his time.Venus, Cupid, Folly, and Time
This morning I was outside at 8:30 am watering my gardens.
Me. 8:30 am. Gardening.
Who is that person?
For many years my gardens were lucky to even see the hose, more or less benefit from the water inside.
I find myself glardening (like glamour camping, glamping) these days. Nothing wonderfully unique and ornate, mind you — I leave that for my daughter-in-law. She has the best interior decorating gardening thumb around.
Yet I found — find — myself spending a little more time outside these days, arranging pots, picking off dead flowers, transplanting, trimming wild weeds, all of that.
The funny thing is — I’m enjoying it!
It this the retirement thing? The life-is-shorter-before-me-than-behind-me thing? Is it an Old Lady thing to do?
Or am I just not in a hurry anymore, leaving time for all kinds of new things?
I am already putting a lot of extra time into my blog and Art Gallery. And working on my Angel Tears. And trying new summer fresh menus from scratch. I find myself digging this new involvement with the world — as long as it’s at my pace.
Where did this come from?
I have taken a lesson for two from my blogging friend Rita Faes (gwenniesgardenworld.com). Her blog is full of gorgeous flower and plant photographs, ones she captures not only from her garden but places of wonder near and far.
For Rita, it’s not an effort — it’s a pleasure.
And isn’t that what we’re on Earth for? To promote/partake/share pleasure? Along with a bit of black, sandy dirt?
Do you do plants? Indoor or outdoor? Exotic or every day garden variety? Plastic?
This means so much to me — especially with my special loss — thank you, Purplerays
When you remember me, it means you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart
There is something about the feeling of a cloudy, cool morning that piques the imagination, especially during the summer months.
I don’t know if it’s the wind blowing a little harder, stirring the trees and windchimes that provide a musical background, or the songs of the birds early on, or the gentle cling of humidity to your skin, letting you know rain is not far away.
But there is something about a turn in the weather that stimulates sleeping parts of your spirit.
Maybe it’s the fact that it’s a different form of summer atmosphere. We are used to hot, sunny, surfing-and-picnicking kinds of hot days this time of year. We are treated to heat exhaustion, sunburn, sinuses, and sweat, all welcome and all encompassing.
When a morning or evening pops up that is different than that, we often take notice. Maybe its the barometric pressure changing, the temperature drop, or the breeze that cools off our sticky skin that causes us to sit up and take notice.
Maybe it’s the transience of it all.
Short and sweet, relieving, constricted views because of the overcast sky, all make us turn our heads from the daily blinding grind of life for just a moment.
We know it won’t last; many will be happy of that fact.
How very close to our everyday outlook about the ups and downs of life.
Randall Rosenthal (1947- New York, NY) is a sculptor known for turning single blocks of wood into intricately detailed sculptures of ordinary objects. The artist’s collection of work boasts mind-boggling creations that are not only diligently carved and thoroughly painted, but also presented in visually realistic compositions. He starts with masses of hardwood, and begins the creative process with blade routers, chain saws and angle grinders.The finer work is done with as many as 50 hand tools.Carved from a single block of pine, Rosenthal uses a reductive process, with no adhesives, to create these astonishingly realistic works.The works are then finished using acrylic and ink.His subjects have ranged from magazines to notepads to envelopes and boxes of money.Due to the excellent paint job and perfect sculpting, most of us are completely fooled by his optical illusions.“I get a little frenzied in the beginning,” the artist shares. “I can see it in my head and want to make it appear in real life.”
There is a difference between asking a dumb question and a dumb question. Its amazing how often both are confused.
Carl Sagan, in his work The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, said: “There are naïve questions, tedious questions, ill-phrased questions, questions put after inadequate self-criticism. But every question is a cry to understand the world. There is no such thing as a dumb question.”
But what if one asks a question that makes no sense? Is one dumb for asking it or dumb not knowing there’s no answer?
I came across an interesting website the other day — Breathe To Inspire, described as “an inspirational blog where passionate individuals like thinkers, readers, feelers, dreamers, bibliophiles, visionaries and aesthetes gather to endure the complexity of this existence and begin to educate their perspectives by thinking better in the aim to create a better future.”
Many of you have expressed concern about the new wave approaching…that it will be stronger, more uncomfortable or more challenging. Although the next phase of this shift may be challenging, it will have a different feel to it. Each piece of this upgrade is designed to bring you more knowledge and information. So, rather than anticipating a worst-case scenario, know that you will be receiving what is in your highest and best for the highest and best. You are on a road that has never been traveled before…this amazing time in human history is yours! Instead of viewing it with trepidation, see it as a beautiful reminder of how far you have come and how much further you will grow! ~ Creator
Transcribed by Jennifer Farley, TheraHealing Instructor/Practitioner at The Creator Writings
Erich J. Moffitt is an internationally exhibited painter and freelance illustrator who resides in Seattle, Washington.
Coin Knight
Moffitt grew up in Europe and studied Illustration and Art History at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte.
Time Rook
His whimsical, brightly colored paintings are like modern translations of Romantic-era storybooks, clearly inspired by late-nineteenth century art and culture.
Wilder Bishop
Many of his paintings are fables, featuring totemic animal archetypes and talismanic objects.
Bow Pawn
Stylistically rendered atop real, artisanal chess sets, this particular art series finds Moffitt recreating chess pieces from the dark side of a chess board.
Word Rook
Pawns, bishops, rooks, and knights are all recast as classic animal characters, saturated with the same magic, fantasy, and romantic symbolism for which the artist is known.
Night Queen
“I make art to connect with others and express and explore ideas feelings, and outlooks,” the artist explained.
Flame Knight
“I can’t quite put into words as well as I can paint them. Pictures condense and crystalize thoughts for me in a way that gives them a life outside of my mind.”
These songs make me miss the old times I’ve never been to, and miss the person I haven’t met. ~ Risksa Putri (6 years ago)
Some of the responses….
I remember me and my girl on these times Good old times we were very young and she was pretty and perfect. Walking on the streets of NYC at night on the 1950s. But the problem is that this have never happened. I’m 20y old now. And I dont even have a girlfriend. ~inSanic (4 years ago)
We can be sure that we lived in that old time once…. The memories and feelings are real. ~Dora Orban (4 years ago)
Me too rizka I just sometimes cry for sometime even my grandmother didn’t exist ~Soufox (2 years ago)
Exactly the same feeling … May be there is a time that bodies don’t remember but the souls do! ~Ammonada Zeon (2 years ago)
That’s the magic of this kind of long ago music, it’s like nostalgia. A song that can break your heart over someone you never met. ~Clean Water (2 years ago)
At 39, I think anything may have been possible, including having a past life/lives. I don’t fit into these current times and have always had an old soul. Only in these songs can I feel connected to my One and Only whom I’ve still never met. I sometimes think we might’ve been born in different eras and therefore I must wait until the afterlife to finally meet him and have that true “old” style love, and that actually lasts forever. ~Laundry Basket (1 year ago)
I too share a deep feeling of sadness for all the people I haven’t met on both past and present time periods. All the things I’ll never experience. ~Evelyn Wolff 7 months ago)
And finally…(added but not shown…that’s okay…it’s still there)
Imagine, if you would, stopping at this site in You Tube, reading your comment from six years ago. One comment out of 2,515. Time travel is possible – your comment has made it so. Thank you. I am going to write a blog about your comment and give you full credit. http://www.humoringthegoddess.com.
Despite their name, Starfish (sea stars) aren’t fish.
Australian Southern Sand Star
Since they don’t have a backbone, starfish belong to a group of species called invertebrates, which also includes urchins and sponges.
Basket Starfish
Typically, starfish have five arms, but some sea stars may have more limbs.
Giant Spined Star
Sea stars move using their tube feet and have an advanced water vascular system that they use to fill up their feet with sea water.
Chocolate Chip Sea Star
They do not have blood but instead take in seawater through the sieve plate, or madreporite, located on top of the sea star, and use that to fill up their feet.
Morning Sun Starfish
Starfish are equipped with hundreds of tiny little feet at the underside and end of each of their arms.
Royal Starfish
To move from one place to another, seawater is filled into its tube feet, causing the arm to move just like a foot would.
Sunflower Star
When some species of starfish find a tasty snack, such as a mussel or an oyster, they extend their stomach out of their mouth to digest the soft parts of their prey.
Pincushion Starfish
This creates a soup-like substance that they then slurp back into their body to finish off the feast.
Antarctic Sun Starfish
Starfish can retract their feet using muscles or use them as suction to hold onto a substrate or its prey.
Crown of Thorns Starfish
The starfish is a fascinating and unique form of life that brings wonder and fascination to anyone falling under their spell.
David’s blogs are always so inspirational, always so human. The words he finds, along with the words he uses, touches the soul as well as the mind. Leaves you feeling better than when you first stopped by.
Mariko Kusumoto, born in Kumamoto, Japan, is an artist known for textile and metal art.
bracelet
Kusumoto studied at the Musashino University in Tokyo, and relocated to the United States where she studied at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco.
earrings
Currently based in Massachusetts, the artist prevails upon fabric to construct forms of elegant simplicity and evocative imagery.
necklace
Her designs are incorporated into jewelry and sculptural pieces, as well as in collaborations with fashion designers.
bracelet
Her body of delicate fiber works consists of sculpture and jewelry inspired by natural forms: coral, mushrooms and flowers amongst other organisms.
rings
To create these ethereal pieces, Kusumoto uses the traditional origami-like folding technique tsumami zaiku.
necklace
Other pieces use a method of heat-setting synthetic fabric until it holds the shape she wants.
pin
The fundamental simplicity of the process creates a stunning contrast with her often intricate designs in order to produce a beautiful piece of jewelry that is both majestic and captivating.
Molly Devlin is a contemporary surrealist painter based in Sacramento, California.In her exquisitely rendered portraits in acrylic, Devlin instills an aura of dreamlike mystery.The themes in her artwork are highly influenced by her love of nature and yearning to understand our relationship with the nature world.
Devlin’s style is most recognized for considerable intricacies, illuminated within surreal and organic dreamscapes.There is an airy, surreal feeling to her work, achieved often by transparent colors, soft brushstrokes and nebulous shapes and inferences.Her paintings provoke fantastical questions into the secrets of these animal kingdoms; how they relate, resemble, and morph into one another.
I’ve been doing a lot of vivid dreaming lately — I have been for a year or two. I love the madness, the depth, emotions, and the unpredictable story lines that have been popping up. Now and then there is a nightmare, payment, I suppose, for the magic of the mind, of the next dimension.
This is a reprint of a blog I wrote back in 2021 about dreaming, and my thoughts about the messages behind the ones I can remember.
Don’t be afraid to dream. The most wonderful people come to visit you through them.
This blog is dedicated to my close friend Robin who lost both of her parents a little over a year ago.
Last night I had a dream.
I had spent the day with my mom at her house. I don’t know exactly what we were doing — cleaning, my guess. And talking.
I was in the living room watching TV, and I yelled into the kitchen, “Where’s dad? I haven’t seen him all day.”
“He was sleeping in there — you must have missed him,” she replied. Then a deeper voice answered. “I’m right here.”
So I went into the softly lit kitchen and there they were, my mom and dad, sitting at a small kitchen table. There were wood scraps on the table; my dad was a carpenter all his life, and was always working on something.
I remember coming and kneeling next to him. Something didn’t feel quite right. Like neither one of them was supposed to be there.
I had a thought in the back of my mind.
“What’s it like over there?” I asked.
My dad smiled and nodded but said nothing. So I continued.
“Is it beautiful? Eternal? Spiritual?”
“Yes it is,” he said, smiling.
I lost my mother 49 years ago, my dad 15. Yet I still dream of both of them.
I don’t care what psychologists and scientists and textbooks say about the origin of dreams. It’s the one world man really doesn’t fully understand.
And I believe dreams are a portal. A connection.
Our only connection.
Dreams hold our fears and experiences, along with our passions and imaginations. Those points in our life never leave us. And even if you say you don’t dream, you do. You just don’t remember them. They are a way to remind us who we are. How we got here.
Dreams are our connection to those who have gone before us, proof that all is well.
This article … oh… blog … is dedicated to those of you out there who have been sprinkled with a little A.D.D. dust. You know who you are.
And if you have to ask yourself if you have been, you have been.
I’ve been trying to get more active in my old age, despite the roadblocks my body and psyche keep throwing up to stop me. I am tired of being tired, sleepy, and muddled. I’m talking to my doctor this week about some of my medications, working on the drug angle as well.
We went camping lasy weekend, just the two of us. Oh, and the stink butt dogs. It was to be a couple of days of doing absolutely nothing (except cook and clean up). We were going to walk the dogs, picnic like we were in the wine country of France, and read. We needed to relax. Both of us.
Sitting still in a chair near the woods in the sunshine (or shade) isn’t as easy as you’d think.
You start out relaxed. Feet stretched out, cold drink on the table next to you, maybe a small antipasto to carry you to lunch. The birds are singing away, kids laughing in the distance, a cool breeze tickling your hair. You’ve got a book you’ve been dying to read and/or dying to finish. All is well with the world.
For the first 10-15 minutes.
You find you are a little too hot or a little too cold. The sun has moved and it’s in your eyes. Or the shady spot you’ve found is suddenly filled with gnats or worse. You unconsciously start wiggling you RSL foot (or leg or legs) and suddenly you lose your place in your book. You notice the kids at the campground next door or four sites down never quit screaming while they’re playing.
You get back into your book. This is the part you’ve been wanting to read since winter. And you start wondering what your grandkids are doing today. Or your sister. Or your best friend.
You come back to the book. Yes! Take a drink of your beverage and the waterdrops on the outside of your glass drip onto your pages. You don’t want to get up just to get a wipe so you use the bottom of your shirt.
Your restless leg or your blinking from the bright sun threatens to take all of your attention. And now that mosquito bite from yesterday right above your ankle is starting to itch like crazy and the dogs are licking themselves with that unbearable sound.
You manage another page, still trying to enjoy paradise, when some weird bird starts screeching from the tree at the end of the campsite, and you wonder — is it a bird or is it a squirrel?
What is going on here? Why are you letting all these minor distractions distract you?
You’re getting antsy and over reactive for seemingly no reason. And the more you fight it, the worse it becomes. It could be a form of your A.D.D. that you don’t have, or it could be your younger side getting bored.
Modern day men and women have a hard time sitting still for any length of time. We always feel like we should be doing SOMETHING. Just ask TV commercials or social media. They constantly remind you that there are tons of things waiting for you back home, and they can help. You know: doing laundry, washing floors, stopping headaches, wiping up spills, picking out a new cell phone. A thousand other things you should be doing instead of kicking back doing NOTHING.
Well, it’s up to us to work through this distraction of distraction. We work hard, run thousand of errands, work jobs and take care of children and do the dishes every day! We deserve a break! A silent break!
Let’s make sure we take that break. For our sanity, for our soul, and for our creativity. After all… even God took a break on the seventh day, didn’t She? Making the Earth n’ all that stuff was a lot of hard work. She deserves some quiet time, too.
(for those of you who might have received an earlier version of this post in email, I apologize. I am flighty and getting old and forget now and then how to repost. It’s really supposed to be posted today….)
Ivor Stevenis one of my favorite people, along with one of my favorite poets. I love his blog, his flowing emotions, his fun point of view, and his awareness of the pain and beauty around us. I hope you get a chance to check out his work.
Sarka Evans lived in Prague, Czech Republic, a city full of art and history, during the first half of her life.In 2015, she retired after spending 41 years in the field of clinical psychology, and began to devote her free time to pursue art.Evans started with stained glass, making multiple large stained glass window panels and Tiffany lamps, and gradually metamorphosed into glass and stone mosaics.The artist hand cuts and places each piece of glass and stone to create beautiful mosaics.She includes not only glass and stones, but also driftwood, tree bark, and clay.Evans’ studio is a sunroom in her house in Door County, Wisconsin, creating peace and beauty in each marvelous piece.More of Sarka Evan’s handmade mosaics can be found at https://plumbottomgallery.com/collections/sarka-evans.
Lately I have come across a lot of posts on social media that turn Monday (really, ANY day) into a special attention day. Often it’s a chance to share your poetry, your art, or your website.
I imagine those who host those sites get plenty of traffic, both for their own cause and that of others. I think that’s great.
I, on the other hand, am of smaller scope and friendship base, content to read other blogs when I can and encourage art in its myriad of forms when I can’t.
On this Monday, though, I’d really like to talk about your website. The one you use to sell your crafts, or the one you use to just show off your creativity.
I’d like to show off your site.
I love art sites. Quilting sites. Knitting sites. Painting sites. Ceramics sites. I think sharing your creativity with the world is one of the best experiences you can have. You may be interested in selling your wares, building a following, or finding fellow crafters who can help you advance your craft.
I’d love to hear about your website. I have made good friends here, sharing their art and their inspirations, and I’d like to take a chance with your art as well. No set dates, no set categories — just a note to all my followers to check your unique art out in person.
You may find kindred spirits among the Goddess’s flower fields — or a new hobby you can dig your feet, nails, and teeth into.
Let’s do this together!! It’ll be a Creativity Moment for ALL of us!!!
Alexis Auguste Delahogue (1867-1953) was a French 19th Century painter who specialized in scenes from Algeria and neighboring countries.He was considered an orientalist painter, which refers to a representation of the East in Western art which often blurred the line between fantasy and reality.Travelling with his twin brother Eugène, Delahogue painted landscapes and genre scenes borrowed from the Maghreb (the region of North Africa bordering the Mediterranean Sea), travelling in all directions with a predilection for Tunisia.Delahogue was a member of the Société des Peintres Orientalistes and the Société des Artistes Algériens et Orientalistes.Although there is not a lot of background information on the artist, he was known a prolific painter of vibrant scenes of Algerian life.Delahogue was able to capture the everyday lives of people from Algiers to El Kantara and Biskra. He delighted in painting camels, desert caravans, oases, and various personalities he met on his travels.
Italian artist Simone Crestani has been blowing glass since he was 15 years old.He comes from the Venice region, where working with glass is one of the traditional crafts, so this type of art is in his blood.
Crestani creates beautiful glass sculptures that combine his love of glass work with his love of the natural world.Many of his creations can be considered part of a contemporary “Cabinet of Curiosity” where nature is not defaced but respected by reproducing its essence in fragile transparent shapes.The infinite variety of of plant and animal forms inspires his magical world, a celebration of lightness and transparency in always new and original creations of crystalline purity and beauty.Crestani uses the lampworking technique to make these objects out of clear borosilicate glass in a more sculptural manner than is traditional, allowing him to create works that may be large in size but still exquisite in their meticulous representation of the details.
I have been running around the past few weeks and am very glad to be back on solid home ground again.
You heard of my camping fiasco — just got done planning it again for next year. Never give up, I say.
Last weekend was my escape to our family cabin up north and participation in my first craft show of the year.
I must say that with all the “North Woods-y” arts that surrounded me this year, my sparkling strings of crystals kinda stood out like a fish driving a van. But they seemed popular, so my first escapade with the buying public went fairly well.
Offering your homemade creations to the public can be a nerve wracking experience. Whatever it is you make, you wonder … does it look professional? Well-made? Will they fall apart the first time someone uses it? If you knit, are the stitches straight? Do the colors blend right? Painting, maybe you’re an abstract kinda person. Is it too abstract? Too colorful? Does it say anything?
Ack, you did just fine. I know ~I~ did fine. They were homemade, not expensive, and made with love. Just like (I hope) everything you make is.
You may wonder what this “fantastic thing” is that I never shut up about. It’s my granny hobby; my old lady creative outlet. They are called Angel Tears Suncatchers, which are single strings with rhinestones, embellishments and crystals that reflect the sunlight.
This project, this hobby, is what creativity is all about. It challenges my imagination, gives me a scheduled play time that is all my own, and brings delight to others as well.
Your art should do the same. Whether it’s sculptures out of old silverware (I saw that at the fair and loved it!) or painting boat oars (loved that too!), you should enjoy what you do.
They say it’s not the destination that counts, but the journey. And I am loving every minute of this journey.
I promise I am working on a website to show you what the madness is all about. I hope you have or are making a site of your own too, even if it’s a showcase and not a salescase.
Considered to be one of the masters of modern fantasy illustration, Boris Vallejo was born in Lima, Peru on January 8, 1941.Vallejo began painting at the age of 13, and obtained his first illustration job three years later at the age of 16.He attended the Escuela Nacional Superior Autónoma de Bellas Artes on a five-year scholarship.After emigrating to the United States in 1964, he quickly garnered a fan following from his illustrations of Tarzan, Conan the Barbarian, Doc Savage and various other fantasy characters (often done for paperback-fiction works featuring the characters).This led to commissions for movie-poster illustration, advertisement illustration, and artwork for various collectibles.Along with his wife and collaborator (and often model) Julie Bell, Vallejo has done a great volume of work for the Fantasy field, having worked for virtually every major publishing house with a science fiction/fantasy line.His classic sense is as much an homage to the old masters as it is to anyone contemporaneously working in the Fantasy genre.Whether the work features sword and sorcery, space travel, pulp heroes, or imaginative creatures, his paintings are often tinged with eroticism.For sheer dauntless bravura, few have ever pushed the limits as does Boris with his beautiful maidens and fearsome monsters.More of Boris Vallejo‘s amazing drawings can be found at https://www.borisjulie.com/.
Delita Martin (b. 1972, Conroe, Texas) creates large-scale prints onto which she draws, sews, collages, and paints.
Martin claims space for her subjects, particularly black women, creating a powerful presence that simultaneously highlights the historical absence of black bodies in Western art.Through her work, Martin aims to create a new iconography for African Americans based on African tradition, personal recollections, and physical materials.A recurring theme throughout Martin’s work is exploring interconnections between past and present generations.She conveys these connections through symbols such as circles, a shape representative of the moon and symbolic of the female, and birds, which represent the human spirit.
Masks, inspired by the Sowei and Ife masks of West Africa, appear in many of Martin’s works, signifying transition between this world and the spirit world.
How many times have I started a blog, “On my way to doing something completely different ….” Alas, this curse/blessing followed me once again last weekend.
We were supposed to go camping with friends down in beautiful Missouri at Onadaga State Park, with a tour of the caves thrown in for our exercise day.
Well, you know me and my life. The park emailed me the day before and said the park was closed because of flooding.
THE DAY BEFORE.
Panic. Stress. Ticked Off. You name it, I felt it.
You also know I love a wee bit of adventure, so we made our way to Plan B. Plan B is anything you do that is close to what you originally wanted to do but couldn’t do for one reason or another. And there is always a plan B somewhere.
We decided to drive down to Nashville, Tennessee, spend two nights at our friend’s house, then drive across the state to Cumberland Mountain State Park.
I always try and find another rainbow if the first one disappears. One way or another I was going to see my friends and have a great time.
It all worked out. It turned out the park in Missouri changed their mind and stayed open, but we were already down the road on Plan B. Lots of driving, but also lots of beautiful waterfalls, lush foliage, and the edge of the Appalachian Mountains. It was good food and good times.
It wasn’t Missouri, but it was Tennessee.
Don’t let a change of scenery put you off. If you plan on going somewhere, doing something, find a way to do it. Don’t give up. Make a plan but don’t worry about the plan.
The same is true no matter if you’re painting, sketching, knitting, or writing. Art takes you where it wants to go — you are just along for the ride.
And don’t worry — there are quite a few letters after B you can activate …
Troy Emery is a contemporary artist from Melbourne, Australia.
Between leaving his regional hometown of Toowoomba and moving to Hobart to attend art school, he decided he wanted to study fashion. Then he discovered he didn’t.Following his instincts, he dropped out of fashion school, but took his love of textiles and haberdashery with him.Emery works primarily with textiles in a sculptural practice to produce figurative forms and imagery.At the core of his ‘fake taxidermy’ sculptures is an interest in humankind’s relationship with animals.Emery works primarily with textiles in the form of colorful polyester tassels.He combines combining these materials with animal forms, a kind of pelt, where the fabric creates a textile mass over the animal.The core structure of the work is an anatomically correct to scale animal model, so the sculptures are, underneath, distinct animals like lions, foxes, and big cats.Through the process of building the colorful textile pelt, that very particular animal disappears and transforms into something less recognizable but still recognizably animal-like.More of Troy Emery‘s amazing sculptures can be found at https://troyemery.net/ and https://ocula.com/artists/troy-emery/artworks/.
There are stars you haven’t seen and loves you haven’t loved there’s light you haven’t felt and sunrises yet to dawn there are dreams you haven’t dreamt and days you haven’t lived and nights you won’t forget and flowers yet to grow and there is more to you that you have yet to know ..
I cannot tell you that I’m getting ready to go camping in Missouri in a short bit. I cannot tell you that I may or may not have access to the Internet, and if my individual connection works I’ll still be peeking in to read other blogs. I cannot tell you those things in case the bad guys are watching and planning on visiting my friend who is big and gorilla-like and staying here in my stead with his shepherd Turnkey.
But my first priority is to explore a cave or two along with kicking back in the shade sipping cranberry/blueberry wine and feeding strawberry tops to my dogs.
Why do some of us need to tell everyone when we’re going on an adventure? Isn’t LIFE an adventure? Every day?
Somehow I think there is a human need to have fun and adventure someplace other than your home base. After all, exploring places you’ve never been before is like traveling through outer space — you never know what’s around the next sun!
My husband is younger than me, so he will be retiring in September. Hopefully the future will be filled with explorations we both can appreciate. But sometimes I wonder.
I’d love to spend a month in France or England. He wants to go to Europe for a couple of weeks, visiting 3-5 main cities in one trip.
I want to go to New Mexico and visit Canyon Road, a half mile strip of over 100 of the 250 galleries in the city that feature a diverse array of art. He’d be satisfied with a passthrough with lunch and a couple of galleries.
I dream big, he dreams practical. It’s a good match. It’s a good thing, too.
So I’ve left a few new blogs behind to show you I’m still so into sharing life, love, and Art with you. The love of the craft won’t let me wander far without you.
I’ll be sure to take a couple of pictures of the cave for you, too … I’m sure it looks like the one above …
Ferdinand Hodler (1853-1918) was one of the best-known Swiss Symbolist painters of the nineteenth century.Hodler was the son of a carpenter and a woman of peasant stock. His parents and all five of his siblings had died of tuberculosis by the time he reached adulthood.The works of Hodler’s early maturity consisted of landscapes, figure compositions, and portraits, treated with a vigorous realism.Many of Hodler’s best-known paintings are scenes in which characters are engaged in everyday activities.In the last decade of the nineteenth century his work evolved to combine influences from several genres including symbolism and art nouveau.Hodler developed a style he called “parallelism” that emphasized the symmetry and rhythm he believed formed the basis of human society.Throughout the latter part of his career, Hodler’s depictions of Swiss patriotism and historic scenes became increasing popular with his countrymen.More of Ferdinand Hodler‘s art can be found at https://wooarts.com/ferdinand-hodler/
I never seem to stop amusing myself with my own actions. I always start out in one direction and wind up completely somewhere else.
I listened to an opera last Saturday as I was mowing the lawn.
It was a beautiful Saturday here in the Midwest. Sun shining, slight breeze to cool the body, lots of stay-at-home chores waiting for attention. Especially mowing the lawn.
I often listen to the radio in headphones while I mow these never-ending “yards.” It’s usually either oldies rock n’ roll or classical.
This time I chose classical.
Turning on WPR from Madison, Wisconsin, they were just starting a live broadcast from the Met in New York City of La bohème, an opera composed by Giacomo Puccini.
Now, if you know me (or took a good guess) I really enjoy upbeat classical music, along with smooth jazz, oldies rock and roll, big band, pop tunes from the 80s, and an occasional hairband like Metallica. Opera is about as popular in my repertoire as slasher movies. Like non-existent.
But it was either listen to this hoity toity singing or listen to music with a thousand commercials. So on to La Bohème I went.
You already can guess the outcome of this story. It was beautiful.
The voices, the story, everything was so much more than I was wont to believe. The opera was sung in Italian, so the announcers explained each act before it started. I had a vague notion of the story line, seeing that Nicolas Cage and Cher went to see that opera in the movie Moonstruck.
Now, I think you have to be in a certain state of mind to enjoy something not everyone appreciates. Opera is one of those niches.
But I was a ready listener, and caught all four acts before I finished for the day. I even went inside after the first act to read the synopsis of the opera before I went to finish mowing.
Another world of Art opened to me on Saturday, one I hope to revisit again soon. We all need to give other forms of Art a chance.
After all, Richard Gere and Julia Roberts go to see Giuseppe Verdi’s opera La Traviata!in the movie Pretty Woman …
Jan Huling is an incredible bead artist who pushes the boundaries of traditional beadwork by using seed beads to re-create the surface design of found objects and give them new context.
A self-proclaimed “beadist”, Huling coats the surfaces of found objects with brightly colored seed beads.
Through surface design and elaborate patterns, she recontextualizes familiar objects, masking original forms to add whimsy and transform the mundane into something special. Inspired by a fascination with indigenous cultures, mythologies, and pop culture.Her pieces often explore the themes of enduring childhood and nostalgia. The iconography and color of her pieces are frequently dictated by the form of the object itself.Huling’s patterns echo tessellating African textiles, Southeast Asian Buddhist architectural ornamentation, and Mexican embroidery..Working with an air pen to place beads, as well as buttons, coins, tokens, and similar found objects, Huling adorns any object that catches her eye, and creates approachable, evocative objects that elevate the everyday.
Arno Rafael Minkkinen is a Finnish-American photographer and Emeritus Professor of Art at the University of Massachusetts and Docent at the Aalto University School of Art, Design, and Architecture in Helsinki, Finland. Minkkinen was born in Finland in 1945 and emigrated to the United States in 1951.Exploring the relationship between the body and the environment, Minkkinen’s photographs inhabit a space between self-portraiture and landscape photography.
This creative photographer dexterously integrates his body into the natural landscape, creating visceral, poetic images that often appear to defy reality.He has an innate ability to frame a picture, to see and pursue a complex and pleasing composition.Minkkinnen has developed the ability to fold his body into the frame.The artist bends, stretches, hides, twists, and somehow manages to contort himself into just the right position at just the right moment to capture that certain magic he is known for.These images seamlessly blend self-portraiture and landscape in a reminder that humans are a part of the natural world, and that mind and body are crucially interconnected, as are humanity and nature.Despite ever-advancing possibilities for enhancement offered by technology, Minkkinen resolutely chooses not to use digital manipulation in his work, relying solely on the beauty of nature and his own physical endurance.Addressing the surreal and timeless quality of these images, Minkkinen has said, “there is no age to the picture when it is just the landscape and the body.”More of Rafael Minkkinen‘s amazing photography can be found at https://www.arnorafaelminkkinen.com.
We all like to think that we are always right, always true, always informed. Not in the haughty, I-know-everything smarmy way — we just feel better when we know what we’re talking about.
But sometimes we are mistaken.
How we take being “mistaken” says a lot about ourselves. It a a reflection of our self confidence and personal strength.
Being “mistaken” may be as complicated as forgetting one of the numbers of Pi or as simple as thinking eggplant is a vegetable (it’s really a fruit), or thinking that chartreuse was pinkish purple (it’s yellow green). Just the tip of my “mistakes.”
The other day one of my readers pointed out that my picture of coleus leaves was really a picture of caladium leaves. Now, that’s a small thing, but I should have known better. I know what a coleus looks like (I own one!) and what a caladium looks like. I didn’t feel bad about my mistake — as a matter of fact I was very grateful for the clarification.
But there are those who take this kind of faux pas seriously, adding another notch to their belt of “I’m really worthless.” That sounds like an extreme reaction, but there are many on this planet who live for extreme reactions.
Don’t do it. Don’t notch.
We all are learners, every day of our lives. And being mistaken is just another skip in your record keeping. I never knew you could make art from broken pottery or band aids or toothpicks, or that if you see a horse laying down it doesn’t mean it’s dead (I used to believe that!)
I appreciate learning from my mistakes. I also appreciate people who take the time to be kind in their corrections. Most times they are helping, not condemning.
To me, mistakes are stepping stones of self improvement. Of understanding the world around us.
It’s too bad the world can’t learn from its mistakes. What a better place it would be.
Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you’re going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are.
Iris Scott is an American professional contemporary finger painting artist based in Brooklyn, New York.Graduating from Washington State University in 2006 with a degree in art, Scott was a pioneer in the field of finger painting.Using just gloved fingertips, Scott works with paint like a malleable, nearly clay-like medium.Her vibrant rainbow palette depicts a parallel, but familiar universe, emitting an energetic optimism and a respect for the natural world.Scott stumbled upon finger painting when a serendipitous lack of clean brushes prompted her to finish a painting with her fingertips.In that moment she recognized how fingers could scoop oil paint better than brushes, and overnight she committed to leaving her brushes behind.“I was excited to force myself to stop using brushes because I was learning to ‘survive’ in uncharted territories,” Scott explains.“I recognized that although finger painting couldn’t do some things that brushes could, there were important advantages finger painting actually did have over brushes—and I am still discovering new ones every day!”More of Iris Scott’s marvelous finger paintings can be found at https://www.irisscottfineart.com/.
Guy Buffet was born in Paris, France in the district of Montparnasse on January 13, 1943.
His father took young Guy for walks in Montparnasse to show him famous landmarks where artists such as Amedeo Modigliani, Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, and George Braque would spend most of their days and evenings.
At 14, he moved to the south of France with his mother, and enlisted in the Beaux Arts School of Toulon to study art full time.
Buffet joined the French Navy in 1961 at the age of eighteen, and was assigned to the cruiser, “De Grasse”, headed for a seven month journey around the world.
The French Navy recognized Buffet’s artistic talent and named him their official artist.
Buffet’s famous images depict restaurants, people, landscapes, and cities with a humorous and light touch.
Buffet’s depictions often reflect the everyday working world, along with his love of people and food and exotic locations.
His whimsical rendition of sommeliers, chefs and waiters and other images are found not only in his paintings, but on every day items as dinner plates, napkins, tablecloths, and fashion.
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Humoring the Goddess 