A friend of mine through WordPress, TextileRanger, wrote a blog on Gifts for the Person Who Has Everything. She writes about her birthday, and the best gift she could get was that her daughters came and took furniture and articles that have been sitting around being unused for like ever.

And it got me thinking about birthday presents in general.

I don’t know how many of you still exchange gifts for birthdays or  Christmas. In our family, grandkids and kids are a must. Husbands (or myself as a wife) are more of “I need this now so why not give it to me for my birthday/Christmas?” sort of thing. We still exchange birthday gifts with my husband’s family — there’s about 3 grandkids and 5 adults, and it’s been a tradition for like ever, too.

Once you get up in age — and these family members run from 40 to 73 — have just about everything they need. Their collections of unicorns, Precious Moments, or Chicago Bears paraphernalia is fuller than a landfill. Half the time I don’t know what they do in their spare time, so buying something personal gets to be harder and harder.

So the last few years we have been giving food and drink for presents.

I think my family couldn’t be happier.

These are gifts that are fine-tuned to my friends and family’s taste. They are foods and liquors that they would normally never purchase. I once gave a cousin two lobster tails for his birthday. Last year we bought a different cousin a selection of hot seasonings and sauces, because he loves hot  food. A couple of weeks ago I gave a girl cousin a bottle of Relax German wine and a tin of Pirouette cookies to go with it. I would never buy a $7 tin of cookie for myself, but it was fun to buy them for someone else.

I think realistically our family and friends have enough t-shirts, earrings, and video games to last three lifetimes. But to pick out something special that doesn’t have to find shelf space is probably the best idea ever. That friend/family member can enjoy that special expensive beer, cookie, or chocolate creme pie more than the shirts that won’t fit or the video game that’s too hard.

Think about what you’re giving to those who mean the most to you. Maybe it’s time to stop the calendars and socks and give them some wonderfully decadent treat to show them how much you care.

And maybe if you’re lucky they’ll invite you over to share said goodie…

Sam Gilliam (born November 30, 1933) is an African-American painter associated with the Washington Color School movement.

Gilliam’s hallmark “drape paintings,” which consist of stained fabric or paper resembling tie-dye, are regarded as a major step in the development of American art. 

A pillar of the Washington, D.C., modern and contemporary art communities, internationally acclaimed Gilliam has been testing the boundaries of color, form, texture, and the canvas itself over the course of his long, productive career.

His works have also been described as belonging to abstract expressionism and lyrical abstraction.

He works on stretched, draped and wrapped canvas, and adds sculptural 3D elements.

He is recognized as the first artist to introduce the idea of a draped, painted canvas hanging without stretcher bars around 1965.

More of Sam Gilliam‘s work can be found at http://davidkordanskygallery.com/artist/sam-gilliam/ and other galleries around the Internet.

On my way to researching something or other last night, I came across a blog by Brett about becoming a minimalist. She went through everything — I mean everything — and got rid of 75% of her clutter. 

Now I don’t know how much clutter she had, or what she considered clutter, nor do I really know what a minimalist is…unless continuously getting rid of “stuff” puts me in that category. But I could identify with her energy.

I had to step back for a couple of weeks to declutter my head. I wasn’t sure what my problem was — I still am not sure. But I realized I wanted to get a little more clear on where I was going and what I wanted.

But I realized I had to cut some of the clutter from my life.

I’ve gone into my WordPress account and unfollowed everyone who hasn’t posted in 10-12 months. They’ve moved on. So must I. I am in the process of going to each and every one of the people I follow and comment on their postings. After all, that was the reason I followed them in the first place.

I decluttered. And I feel so much better.

I’ve also decided that I may not have much revolutionary things to share with those who choose to follow me, but I have my experience and my passions, and who knows —  maybe my passion will ignite your passion.

I find that my daily life is very routine, which is just fine with me. But I am into this art thing, and I keep finding amazing art from around the world. Things that amaze me. Humble me. Make me wonder.

Those are the things I want to share with you. Perhaps now and then some sage advice ( like I know what I’m talking about). but mostly I am working on uncluttering my life. Keeping what is important, and letting go of the rest.

What’s left is wonderful. And that’s all I need.

Good to be back.

I just read a statistic that there are 152 million blogs out there in the world. 152,000,000 people rattling off thoughts and advice and experiences to anyone who will listen.

Blogging has become an inexpensive, anonymous way to purge your soul of thoughts, sins, and the uniqueness that makes us human. On a blog you can be anyone. An old man, a young girl. A college student, a doctor. None of that matters when it comes to writing what you think and feel.

Lately I have been wondering the purpose of it all. What is the end game for all of us writing what’s going on and what we wonder and what we feel?

These 152,000,000 blogs have become the paper journals of the past. A safe, anonymous place to get it all out. Some will sympathize, some will give you a “like.”or two. And that makes you feel good…if for just a little while.

But your problems, your wonderings, your achievements, will still be there.

What is it we want in this blogging world? To not feel alone? To be appreciated? To be loved?

It’s a wide, wonderful, terrifying world out there. For us who love the written word or taking pictures of it, it helps when we pull those wonderful, terrifying things into a 3-D world where we can look at them.

Lately I feel like I’m not really contributing anything to the tangling of words that come from 152 billion computers. I follow a number of blogs that I rarely get a chance to read. Life does that when you’re busy working and living. I feel like I’m cheating other bloggers who really have something to say.

But lately I feel like I don’t do anything special enough to blog about. Not in the scope of this massive blogging world. This is not a depressed or disillusioned person writing this blog. I’m doing good. But I think we all get to the point where we wonder, what’s the point?

I think that for a while I am going to go on a journey all on my own. There is nothing to share that hasn’t been written or shared in the library of the Internet.  I think I will continue my Sunday Evening Art Gallery blog, for that is a world unseen by most of my followers, and I love — just love — sharing unique artists with you.

Forgive me if I don’t read your blogs, and feel free to stop reading mine. I’m trying to convince myself that likes and follows don’t mean anything to me in the long run. It’s a false sense of popularity, you know?

I will be back. A writer can’t stay away from writing. But I’ve got to clarify what writing is to me. I need to explore fall in all its chilling glory. Just another step on the footpath to tomorrow.

Be well, dream wonderful dreams, and keep coming back for the Gallery.

WD, aka Wild Drawing, was born in Bali, Indonesia and has degrees in Fine Arts and in Applied Arts.

He started off as street artist in 2000 and from that time he spends most of his time to work in the streets, even though he never stopped working in his studio.

In the beginning his work involved a full range of the so called street art from paste ups and stencils to installations and freehand murals.

For about  ten years he has been focused on mural projects and as a medium he combines roller technique with spray paint.

He always tries to interact with the spot where he is working, by utilizing various elements that existing around, so to create harmony between the work and the place.

His style consists of highly detailed photo realistic technique, influenced by comics and graphic novels. Social phenomena, life style, art or nature often inspire him.

More of Wild Drawing can be found at http://wdstreetart.com/

I have a question for all of your art lovers, photographers, painters, and anyone else who love the arts.

You find an artist you really like. It’s a particular form they made that has caught your eye. But when you go to their website there are a number of different forms they dabble in.

How do you know which is their main focus? What they’re known for?

I came across an artist who did abstract photography of things like water drops. When I went to their website, they had different categories to choose from: Human Nature, Landscapes, Abstracts, Commercial Stuff, Services, High Speed Photography, Conceptual, Natural Beauty, Graphic Design, Animals, Bugs, and My Ego.

How do you choose which style to share?

I don’t like to choose one from each heading, for I think it takes away from what the series is trying to convey. It’s like multi-colored confetti.

I may showcase something I think is cool, but the artist is really well-known about some other field of endeavor. That’s why sometimes it’s hard to showcase an artist. All of their talents are amazing, but I can only show off one.

Any advice you have to this newbie art collector would be appreciated.

Sometimes diversity is confusing.

I have run out of creative words for the evening — and probably the week — so what is better than an advertisement for my Sunday Evening Art Gallery blog?

If you read my blogs and haven’t been over the the main gallery to check out my unique art collection, you don’t know what you’re missing. I highlight artists that take creativity to a new and unique level. That includes the classics as well as the newcomers on the block.

Here’s a sample of what you’re missing:

William Wigan

Luke Gerram

Bathsheba Metal

Mézesmanna — Judit Czinkné Poór

René Lalique

Steve Axford

Pink

John Lemke

Carol Long

Follow my Sunday Evening Art Gallery blog for new and wondrous art every week! And tell your friends!

Wu Guanzhong (吳冠中, 1919–2010) is one of the best known contemporary painters of Chinese origin.

Born in 1919 in the Jiangsu province of eastern China, Wu Guanzhong  went on to become one of the most important Chinese painters of the 20th century. 

He has painted various aspects of China including much of its architecture, plants, animals, people, as well as many of its landscapes and waterscapes in a style reminiscent of the impressionist painters of the early 1900s.

Wu’s paintings have the color sense and formal principles of Western paintings, but a spirit and tonal variations of ink that are typically Chinese.

Natural scenery is reduced to its essentials – simple but powerful abstract forms.

 Wu Guanzhong passed away in Beijing on June 25, 2010.

You can find more of Wu Guanzhong‘s artwork across the Internet, including China Online Museum.

Pesky fly lands on my foot

A most major distraction

I glance towards colleagues

Mismatched socks

Writer’s idea of humor

Creative jokesters, these bards be

Fly lands in someone’s hair

Restless in its annoyance

Won’t someone give him a sugar cube?

Lots of people with no socks

End of summer, end of sandals

Autumn nips of cold and gold

Summer Solstice come and gone

The robes of Fall begin to unfurl

Protect us from Winter’s breath

Soon the fly will hear the call

Change of seasons

Taking its sugar cube along

On its never ending journey south

Hope he wears mismatched socks, too

(c) Claudia Anderson

Fong Qi Wei showcases the radial symmetry found in flowers and the beauty of their individual components by tearing them apart and placing each part separately.

By doing this, all of the various textures and shapes get to stand out on their own, becoming independent sections.

“I am fascinated with the intersections. Intersections are places where boundaries break down, and these are areas where really interesting things happen.”

“Boundaries are comfortable and static.”

“In particular, I am interested in the intersections of the sciences, art and technology.”

There are so many beautiful versions of Fong Qi Wei’s art that you must go to his website to enjoy them all:  https://fqwimages.com/

Lot of drama going on around us these days. Some, like the 17th anniversary of 9-11, can’t be helped. Me, squirting chocolate frosting across my desktop and computer as I try and get it out of my donut, is self-imposed.

I am at the point in my life/career that I’m tired of learning.

I know they say you’re never too old to learn something new.   But that’s not always the way it is. I think it’s just that I’m just tired of pushing temporary info into my already crowded brain.

Our world is whirling around us faster than I ever thought possible. In writing a blog for work about teaching coding to youngsters, they said in 10 years the coding we learn now will be obsolete, as new ways of coding and doing things change.

So I’m starting to wonder then…. why bother?

I know we need to deal with the now now. To keep a job these days you need to be on top of things: trends, programs, new ways to collect and control data. Yes, the methods will be time-saving and more efficient, but you still have to learn the darn way first.

I used to be bothered by the image of the old person sitting on the back deck in their golden years watching grass grow. But nowdays that seems so appealing.

Working for a living is much different than it was when I was a linofilm typist back in the day. Of course, I’m sure my dad would have said construction was different when he was discharged from WWII.

I know. Everything changes. Get over it.

But you get to a point where your brain just wants to stop being stuffed with meaningless stuff that won’t make a difference a few years from now.

I’m tired of learning. What I want to do now is experience something new every day.

Learning how rainbows are formed from water crystals in the sky isn’t important. Seeing the rainbow is. Knowing how they built the Eiffel Tower or Mount Rushmore isn’t important — seeing them is.

The hows have never stuck around in my brain to begin with. I wanted to be an actress in high school but I could barely memorize a paragraph. I wanted to be a marine biologist but I lived in Illinois. A lot of things I had to learn just to get a job, just to get by. And marine biology wasn’t it.

I don’t want to learn any more programming or data entry or try to sell my business. I want to learn what I want to learn, not what I have to learn. I want to learn French and how to crochet and how to cook a souffle. I don’t want my future to rely on how much I remember after I learn it.

Maybe this is a “getting old” thing. More likely it’s a millennial thing. Most of them do pretty much what they want to do.  They work, they save a little, but they don’t tie their money up in in huge bills like mortgages and fancy cars. They take their free money and spend it. They experience things. Not memorize things.

Tonight I’m going home from work and sitting on the deck and watch grass grow. Why not? Nature has a lot of things to teach us, too.

Don’t wait to experience life. To experience the world. Don’t wait until you’re rich enough or skinny enough. For enough will never be enough. And you’ll never experience the beauty of the world sitting behind a desk in a fluorescent lit cubicle.

I posted this a couple of years ago — it’s still fresh and beautiful in the hearts of those who remember.

And we will always remember.

To send light into the darkness of men’s hearts — such is the duty of the artist. ~ Robert Schumann

Lady Liberty Memorial – 9/11 Memorial Museum

Tony Trigg

9/11 Memorial, Freehold, NJ

The Madonna in Hell, Fevorr J. Nwokorie

Heath Satow

Brooklyn Wall of Rememberance

Kenny Wang

Flight 93 Memorial, Shanksville, PA

Pentagon Memorial, Washington D.C.

The Hero, Khai Nguyen

Port Authority Memorial Quilt

Trinity Root,  Steve Tobin

Tumbling Woman, Eric Fischl

Fire Department New York Memorial Quilt

Lower School Art Students of Porter Gaud School, South Carolina

David Kracov

Flight Crew Memorial, Grapevine, Texas

Postcards, Masayuki Sono

Dust to DNA, Bianca Nazzaruolo

Spencer Finch, 9/11 Memorial Museum

To Lift A Nation, Ground Zero

Teardrop Memorial, Bayonne, NJ

9/11 Victims Memorial Quilt

9/11 Memorial Museum

Swiss photographer Fabian Oefner, 28, from Zurich spent four weeks researching gigantic gaseous formations that can be spotted beyond our own galaxy, the Milky Way.

These spectacular pictures may look like NASA footage of far off galaxies. 

But in fact the star-studded images have been created with some fiber optic lights in someone’s home.

Two hundred bright blue, red and orange fibre optic lamps were hooked up to just three AAA  batteries to produce the incredible sight of one of the universe’s most spectacular and creative phenomena – the nebulae.

Oefner created the images  images by taking long-time exposures of several fiber glass lamps (exactly, those ugly-looking lamps, that were extremely popular in the 90`s) moving around in a darkened room.

Afterwards, several images were multiplied in Photoshop to achieve the density of such a structure. 

While this gallery tends to shy away from Photoshop as an art medium, I believe the initial set up and photography was amazing, so it warranted a space in the gallery.

More of Fabian Oefner‘s work can be found at http://fabianoefner.com/.

I know a few weeks ago I shared some of my favorite bloggers with you during my #AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek. I do hope you have been able to go on over and check them out.

But I have to recommend another blogger to you. Have to. Because every time I check in with her she’s drawn another great piece of art.

Her name is Sharon Mann and she the creator of Make Art…Magic Happens. I enjoy her art because I just enjoy her art. Every day is an attempt at something new. Sharon seems to enjoy her art, and it shows.

I also love her blog because she is real, with real feelings. In Sharon’s “about” section I read she lost her husband and best friend about a year ago, and her art is her therapy. It’s almost like her creativity is an extension of her love and loss. Check her out.

I find this same mixing of fantasy and reality in my friend Ivor‘s blog at Ivor.Plumber/Poet.  Ivor writes mostly poetry. I sometimes have a hard time reading his poetry, for there is pain there, tinged with hope. Ivor lost his wife and friend almost six years ago, and much of his words are about love and loss and pain.

There are others I follow who have similar stories to tell…stories of sadness, loss, of wandering and falling and getting up again. Some of the names escape me now, but it all swirls into one pool.

I sometimes wonder if all bloggers are like this. Their art, their poetry, their stories, so wonderful because of some loss in their life. I follow those with life-threatening illness, with degenerative eye disease. It’s funny, because I followed them first because I enjoyed their writing. Their point of view. Their pain is almost an after effect.

I am lucky. Except for the loss of my brother a few years ago, and my parents long ago, that kind of pain has not knocked at my door for some time. I know he’s there…she’s there…waiting for me to drop my guard so they can slap me with the cold reality of life and death and some unknown illness. I have to stand guard, for I know once it comes it will rip my heart out and leave such a big hole I will never recover.

For now I will revel in the work my blogging friends do, no matter what the cause. I have led a wonderful life so far…who knows what the future will bring. I put whatever I have in my writing, whether it’s pain or joy or contentment or sorrow. I will deal with the highs and lows of death and beyond in my next life.

I’m too busy being who I am in this one.

The work of Sara K Byrne is definitely multilayered.  

Her images are double exposures – a technique that originated with film cameras.  Basically a segment of film would be exposed to light twice.  

The darker areas in the first photograph would record light in the second photograph.

Byrne uses a digital camera, one of a handful of models, that can perform the same technique.

More of Sara K. Byrne‘s amazing work can be found at https://sarakbyrne.com.

1. As a paper engineer, Matt Shlian’s work is rooted in print media, book arts, and commercial design.

He frequently finds himself collaborating with a cadre of scientists and researchers who are just now recognizing the practical connections between paper folding and folding at microscopic and nanoscopic scales. 

Of his work, Shlian says: “In my studio I am a collaborator, explorer and inventor.”  

“I begin with a system of folding and at a particular moment the material takes over.”

“Guided by wonder, my work is made because I cannot visualize its final realization; in this way I come to understanding through curiosity.” 

More of Matt Shlian’s amazing work can be found at https://www.mattshlian.com/

Everyone loves music of one kind or another. I’m big on new age jazz, upbeat classical, and hair band rock n roll. But my favorite music is definitely Irish music. There is something magical about the chords and dreams of a land across the sea.

My mother was Irish — she was actually a Heinz 57 kinda gal, but I’ve pulled out the Irish in her to celebrate as my music of life.

A couple of weeks ago I went to Irishfest in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, a three-and-a-half day celebration of everything Irish. But the main reason for my two day foray was the band Gaelic Storm.

Now I know I’ve talked about their music before. It’s upbeat pub music, as they like to say. Lots of songs about drinking and wandering and being Irish. They were the band playing Irish music in the movie “Titanic,” but for more than a glance they weren’t part of the movie. But they’ve gained quite a following in the last 20 years, Milwaukee Irishfest being one of their promoters all these years.

The crowd that Saturday night was the biggest of the fest — there must have been at least a thousand people in front of the little stage. I was three benches back — I always love to see them up close.

The reason I’m talking about this group is to highlight what is magnificent about any live performance. For an hour and a half, these one- to two-thousand people sang along with every song, jumped and danced, held phone lights up in the air, and just became one dynamic force.

One of this Irish band’s favorite crowd pleasers is a song about the bond between Ireland and the United States. Of the Irish and the Americans. Patrick Murphy, the lead singer, always starts out this song by saying, “We are not democrats. We are not republicans. We are human beings that need to take care of each other.”

There is something about music…live or otherwise…that transforms each of us. Live is better, for the energy bounces off every individual and onto the next. For two hours everyone is one. Country, classical, blues — it doesn’t matter.  We are what God wanted us to be.

We all came here from somewhere. And we’re all going to the same place in the end. Why not spend that time in between listening to music?

Green, White and Orange, the Red White and Blue

Cross the waters, thousands at a time
All we owned was in our hands
Holding tight to faith and something we could find
In this strange and distant land
Took one last look behind
Open hearts and open minds
And these colors that we held so dear before,
We planted them together on these foreign shores.
My green, white and orange, the red white and blue
Yeah, my green white and orange, the red white and blue
Young and hungry, ready for the brawl
We were driven by desire
No way back, we were prepared to risk it all,
We’d been tempered by the fire
We built the roads, we built the rails
We shared our songs, we shared our tales
Now our colors fly together side by side,
And we lift them to the sky with peace and pride
My green, white and orange; red white and blue
Yeah, my green white and orange; red white and blue

Lift your colors every woman, every child every man
Our song has just begun
We fall together if together we don’t stand
We are many, we are one
Not everyone will live to see what we dreamed this world to be
When we doubt we’ll have the strength to see it through
These colors show us all the way to what is true
My green, white and orange; my red white and blue
Yeah, my green white and orange; red white and blue
Yes, my green, white and orange; my red white and blue
Yeah, my green white and orange; my red white and blue
Yeah, my green, white and orange; my red white and blue
Yeah, my green white and orange; my red white and blue

Had a great time away from home for four days. Needed a mental break. I was mopey and dopey because my grandkids didn’t come up to the cabin this weekend, and I whined all the way home.

Then I had coffee with my bestie I shall call LuLu.

LuLu has just gone through eight rounds of chemo for cancer. She has been in the hospital twice for dehydration; she has lost weight and all her pretty dark hair. She’s had sores and she was anemic. She would cry for an hour over real things and no-things.

And yet when we got together she was happy, talkative, and optimistic.

 It’s natural to think that there, but for the grace of God, go I. If the shoe was on the other foot, your sad friend would be thinking that themselves, believe me.

Our friends, our parents and friends and brothers and sisters didn’t ask for their battles. They didn’t IV leukemia or chrones. They didn’t eat one sweet roll and get diabetes. You get my drift. They didn’t ask to have this life and death fight.

It just happened.

It will happen to all of us.

Our friendship has been growing year by year. What started as riding together turned into coffee and muffins and chats. She needed to get out of her house — she needed to talk. And when something big’s going on in your life, you want to talk. You need to talk. You need to understand that you didn’t do anything to get on this side of the fence, and that everyone around you is helping push you back to the other side.

I’ll never forget the day I found out I had breast cancer. I came back to work from the doctor and pulled my little section together and just told them. I couldn’t imagine hiding this from the people I worked side-by-side with. They were friends. Maybe we didn’t hang out after work, but they were friends that cared about each other. Including me.

I made my way through it. LuLu will make her way through it.

Sitting there tonight, gnashing while gossiping and whining together was the most magical experience I’ve had in a long time. We talked about everything. Our being grandkids addicts. We have no money. We hate cleaning house. We have husbands and kids and co-workers. We have fears and tears and dreams of going to our youngest grandkid’s wedding.

LuLu didn’t ask for this burden. But she’s not going through it alone. That’s what coffee and muffins are for.

Take your friends out for coffee and muffins. You never know what burdens they’re carrying. And even if they don’t have a burden to bear, it feels good to talk about husbands and kids and co-workers.

Especially over blueberry muffins.

HAPPY CELEBRATE YOUR CREATIVEFRIENDS WEEK!

This has been a great week. I loved sharing the blogs I enjoy reading. There are so many others that I didn’t get to share — but there is always time one day in the future. Know every blog you write is putting magic in the air.

Like I said last year, there are thousands and thousands of bloggers out there. You may follow three or three hundred. The purpose of this made-up week is to encourage you to interact with those who write/paint/travel/share with you. If you like what you read, click that little LIKE button. REALLY like what you read? Drop a comment! We/you/they love to hear back from you!

I love reading your work PiratePatty, Jocelyn, Phyllis, Chrissy, Sara, Sharon, Jane, Ben, Ellen, Dwight, Brandon, Gwen, Marion, Blue, Mary, Jan B, Donna, and all the others  I didn’t get to mention.

You are all magic. Listen to that voice inside you and let it inspire you. You only go through life one time…make  it magical!

Happy  #AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek!

One of the blogs I’ve followed is Glorialana Magazine. I don’t know if her name is Glorialana, or if it is a reference to glorious thoughts and emotions, but her blogs always shimmer with an ethereal light. Maybe it’s the way she shares historical events or her favorite artists, but I always feel I’m floating on the clouds as I read her. Maybe it’s just because she starts each blog with “Hello God!” How can you not feel the magic that is to come?

August Hedonist

Hello God!

Thank You for August-Hedonist.

And Thank You for this happy possibility to write these words I was struggling for them with the enemy of self-criticism and guilty. I had sat down at the desk, opened this page with intention to write something – and checking gmail, surfing Dailymail and etc. were hugging my creative essence. I had felt a bitter aftertaste when days by days spending with a celebrities gossips and aliexpress things I closed an empty page in Glorialana.

My dear friend, the Angel is awaking me up. Vladimir Rumyantsev, the painter, by his tender brush has drawn my creative vulnerable essence as a cat with yellow eyes hiding under the chamomile umbrella.  I am afraid, yes, I am afraid, because my inner self-critic prevents me to see you. But Your Love and light is stronger I see in your eyes and I remember how I love your eyes, how I love your smile. You are important for me because I feel that I can enlighten your world. Perhaps it sounds a little grandiloquently  – I live because of You.

Because of You I have find a new motto for Glorialana Magazine – “Romanticizing The World” inspiring by German poet and philosopher Novalis “To romanticize the world is to make aware of the magic, mystery and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite.” Beautiful aim, task and motivation to wake up and to write for You.

“Darling, wake up, please. Today is the 11th of August. Are you going to sleep whole summer?”, tender voice of the Angel is whispering. “Are you going to sleep and miss the symphony of berries, apples, pears and poetic picnics with you love? When are you going to enjoy my company? Life is short and happiness is subtle. Please wake up the world is waiting!” I has woke up and opened my eyes happily feeling your breath.

We live this August – Hedonist. Hedonist comes from the Greek word hedone “pleasure” and is related to hedys, which means “sweet”. And you know referring the topic of hedonism I have found a brilliant book “A Hedonist Manifesto: The Power to Exist” by Michel Onfray.

“Enjoy and have others enjoy, without doing harm to yourself or anyone else”, Michel defines hedonism. In these simple words the philosophy of my life is packed.

Thank You for You. Because of You I grow and glow. Because of You I have found the meaning of my writing here – “Romanticize the Word and Enjoy and Have Others Enjoy, without doing harm to yourself or anyone else.”

Enjoy Summer! Enjoy August-Hedonist!

Make your way to Glorialana’s world and let her sprinkle some sparkle on you!

Happy #AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek!

Anyone who can post every day AND make it fun to read has to be in my top blogs. Ann Koplow and her blog The Year of Living Non-Judgmentally has been running for 2063 (as of today), and her photos reflect her day-to-day world. She says ” I sometimes say I’m a clinical social worker, sometimes I say I’m a psychotherapist. Whatever title I use, I work with people at a major teaching hospital, and I specialize in group therapy.”

What she should really say is that I’m a blogger through and through.

Happy #AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek!

Sometimes as a reader you prefer shorter commentaries that touch you personally, like music, movies, trivia, or illness. Ray V. at Mitigating Chaos, says of his blog: “Mitigating Chaos is sometimes very serious, sometimes frivolous and more often than not… somewhere in between.” And that is where I am in my life. His experiences are my experiences. So much fun.

Can’t Buy A Break

I am starting to feel like David Kanigan, one of my blogging heroes.  Just recently, I teased DK that he allows himself to get into crazy situations, simply to have something to write about on his blog.

He did not deny my accusation.

Last night, we were quietly celebrating Megan’s discharge from the hospital and my wife’s birthday, which is today. It was 9pm and we were just getting around to eating when someone noticed that Martha’s face looked a little swollen.

Indeed it did and being the responsible pet owner/babysitter I am, proceeded to place two, 25mg Benedryl caplets in a folded piece of yellow American cheese and gave Martha a “treat.”

An hour and a half later (10:30pm) I was driving down I-20 towards The Augusta Emergency Animal Clinic with a lean Chow -mix that now resembled a plump, red, Char-Pei.

.

As we arrive, the entrance is covered in blood (not much of an exaggeration. I wish I thought to take a photo) and Martha gives me that “I don’t care how sick I am, but I’m not going in there” look. Well, it is the only emergency vet in the area and they were having a whopper of a night.  I was talking to the owner of the bleeding dog and the dog survived its encounter with another dog.  There were some mighty interesting characters that made their way through those doors for the hour and a half we were there and I’m sure they thought the same about Martha and me.

Martha was not her “little miss personality” self and had to be muzzled by the staff as they gave her an injection of Decadron and some Hydroxyzine pills to take home.

Additionally, when she gets stressed, her anal glands go into overdrive. If you don’t know what that means, lucky you.

So off we went, back into the rainy, dark night for the 35-minute drive home, arriving at 0128hrs. (1:28 am).

Who needs sleep?

Stop by Ray’s Place and catch a smile or two!

Happy  #AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek!

Nothing is more fun to read than someone who writes and thinks like you do. That is what I find in my friend Nancy Roman and her blog Not Quite Old. She talks about her life and it’s crazy cycles with humor and heart. She is the kind of writer that you can say “I’ve been there too!”  Like a long-distant friend, she shares her thoughts, smiling as she does so.

FIVE THINGS YOU DESERVE NOW

Years ago, when I was single – I’d say young and carefree, except I wasn’t quite that young, and I’m not sure I was ever carefree –  I went out to dinner with a girlfriend. It was a fairly skimpy meal as I recall, and we were deep in a conversation (probably about work…we hardly ever discussed men; just our crummy jobs), so I suggested we go back to my place where we could continue to bitch and at the same time have ice cream to supplement our small but pricey dinner.

When I took out the carton of gelato, my friend was rather astonished.

“Were you expecting company?” she asked when she saw the container of very premium ice cream.

“No,” I answered. “It’s just a little pint of my favorite flavor.”

“I can’t believe you would buy something like that for just yourself,” she said.

And I smiled.

Because I had learned that lesson long before.

When I was a kid, I knew a lovely old woman who was part of our extended family. Rachel had been widowed for many years. And when I was a teenager, I remember a conversation with her that made a lasting impression. It was one of those small moments that changes your life and you recognize immediately that it is changing your life. I can’t recall what sparked this serious discussion between a young girl and an 80-year-old woman, but we were talking about happiness and loneliness.

Rachel said that the secret to happiness was being nice to yourself. “I’ve lived alone a very long time,” she said. “So I take extra care to be kind to myself. Who else is responsible for making sure I have a good life?” she said. “I often have no company for days on end. So I treat myself like company every day.”

In that moment, I understood.

I see too many people who don’t treat themselves well.

Who don’t think they are worth the good ice cream.

Here are five things you can do right now to treat yourself like company.

1. You deserve to live in a clean house. When company is coming over you always pick up, right? Well, clean the house for yourself. You deserve a nice environment. You deserve a shiny bathroom. You deserve clean sheets when you go to bed at night. A fresh-smelling refrigerator. A clean house is a gift you give yourself.

2. You deserve to dress well. Remember the last time you got all dressed up and felt wonderful about yourself? You can do that every day. I don’t necessarily mean a fancy outfit or an expensive necklace. Just this: When you do shop, buy only what you love. Even if it is a sweatshirt – which I hope it isn’t  – but if it is, at least buy one that you LOVE. Too many times I see people shopping whose attitude seems to be ‘good enough.’ As if they don’t believe they are worth the time or energy needed to find something that fits well, compliments them – and most important – makes them happy. Hold out for something that thrills you. Soon you’ll have a wardrobe (even if it is a small one) composed entirely of clothes you love. And so you’ll be wearing something you love every day. Think about how good that would make you feel.

3. You deserve to use your good stuff. Do you have your Grandma’s silver? Some beautiful wine glasses that were a wedding present? Some candles with a heavenly aroma that you never use?  USE THEM. Drive that vintage Mustang to the post office. Take out your good china tonight. Light those candles. Treat yourself like company.

4. You deserve to love what you do. Hardly any of us are lucky enough to make a living doing what we love. If you are one of those few – wow. But most of us have to buy groceries and pay the rent by keeping our boring or maybe even awful jobs. That’s just a fact of life. As my mother used to say, “Welcome to adulthood.” But on the other hand, that lousy job is eight hours a day, and you probably need to sleep eight hours too. But that still leaves another eight hours. Every day. Could you fill ONE of them with something you love? Reading, swimming, baking muffins, playing with the dog. You deserve to spend some time with a smile on your face. And what if it turned out that you could do that for TWO hours a day? Double wow.

And while I am on the subject of doing what you love:

5. You deserve to be unashamed of what you love. Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I recently overheard someone ridicule a friend for reading a romance novel. And the romance-lover was embarrassed and actually apologized for her poor taste in reading material. How I wish she had said, “I LOVE this book!” What do you love? Star Trek conventions? Dolly Parton music? Making paper airplanes? Knitting little sweaters for your hamster?  You are lucky to have found something that gives you such pleasure. Be proud of it.

You deserve it.  You are worth the good ice cream.

Wander over to Nancy’s blog and see if she doesn’t make you feel like she’s living your life, thinking your thoughts.

Happy #AppreciateYourCreativeFriendsWeek!

My second celebration of all things written is the world of poetry.

Poetry is that magic verse that wraps around your soul in the shortest amount of words. To me, poetry is felt differently than stories. They are more intense, more compact. I follow a number of poets, and one of my favorites is Walt Page at Walt’s Writings. He has a lifetime of memories and thoughts, and the way he writes them makes you feel his love, his pain, and his creativity. He is called the Tennessee Poet. I can see why.

I Will Be Back

I will never be gone forever

For I will be back one day

I will return in the words I wrote

In the songs I sang

And in your memories of me

I will be back on the soft breezes

Caressing your soul with soft kisses

I will be in the songs you hear

As you dream

You will find me in your lonesome dreams

Dancing you to the edge of time

I am the man who lives forever

Always returning

Always a memory

Your love is my reason for being

So follow the sun

You’ll find me in the mountains

You’ll find me by the sea

You only have to look for me

So open your eyes and see

For I will be back one day

Please wander over to his blog and feel the magic from his poetry. He’ll love your visit!

Kevin Sloan is a Denver based painter working primarily with acrylic on canvas and occasionally drawings and paintings on paper.  

His curiosity and love of travel has led him to live and work in a wide variety of cities across the United States.

Sloan’s work is characterized by a deep reverence for the natural world.

 The often symbolic paintings are an ongoing inquiry into the relationship between the marvel of the natural world and the mundane and often blunt reality of the modern era.

More poetic than merely descriptive, the work moves between direct starkness and lush theatricality.

Recurring paired themes are fragility and strength, wonder and sorrow, and loss and resiliency. 

More of Kevin Sloan’s remarkable artwork can be found at http://www.kevinsloan.com/

These last few days/weeks/months have been a flutterby as far as keeping one foot in front of another. I took an online test last night that confirmed that I have adult-onset ADHD. That, along with the online symptoms of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, and dementia, make me truly falling apart.

Alright, I’m not really sick. Well, maybe a little ADHD, but who isn’t?

I think that as the path in front of us gets shorter and the one behind us gets longer, we all tend to be alert for whatever disease/neurological condition sits waiting for us in the shadows. Along with real symptoms, many of us tend to blur the line between a symptom and a life style. I know I do.

Your lifestyle doesn’t include a lot of extra-curricular walking, so every time you feel a pain in your chest you think heart attack. You’ve forgotten where you left your phone or keys that you just put down two minutes ago and you are well on your way to dementia. You can’t smell the roses on someone’s desk and already you have Hyposmia, Anosmia, or Parkinson’s.

What is with us?

It can be exhausting to get hung up on medical twitches. I don’t have a lifetime to turn around built up health problems like being overweight or wrinkly skin. Most of my ailments are from the fact of getting older, period.

But I know more and more people who turn to the Internet to diagnose their symptoms until they are convinced they are going into a diabetic coma, even if they’re not diabetic. They let uncommon sense run over their common sense.

I do believe that as you get older you are more susceptible to things falling apart and weaknesses in your immune system giving way to diseases with 15 letters. It’s part of life. But I also believe that the older you get the more you fear leaving this world. And that any virus or broken hip can be the start of the end.

None of us want that.

So the point of all this nonsense is to pay attention to your body. Really pay attention. Don’t invent, don’t fantasize, don’t whack out. But pay attention.

I did seven years ago and caught breast cancer before it spread. Another time the moment I saw red on my skin I knew it was cellulitis and went to the doctor. Those are the things you work with. The things you pay attention to.

Don’t be checking the Internet for a symptom found in 19,000 diseases and disorders. It just ages you. Keeps you away from the great things in life. The things that make you who you are.

And that person is a wonderful person.

Although with insomnia, restless leg syndrome…

Hark all ye who read this blog with any regularity! The holy grail has been found! I bow to the north, to the south, to the east….blah blah blah.

It’s good to have my cord back.

Now one would think that now that I’m whole again with computer on my lap I would be lost in the world of Brigadoon or Etruria or Paris. Stories and poems and downloading new images for my gallery.

Ack.

I’m really crashing this Monday night. But fear not, creative friends…I shall be dreaming of new stories that may turn into magical stories.  Or discovering artists of unbelievable breadth and insight .But not tonight.

So what have I learned from this foolish debacle of senility and long distance longing?

Ah, my friend…all it means that I need to pay attention. I need to make lists, I need to make bullet points and Post-it Notes and write notes on my arm and tie strings around my fingers and look behind every couch and chair.

In the long and short of things, I just need to slow down and pay attention.

Sound familiar to any of you?

Some time ago a fellow writer told me that he used a voice dictation device (app or purchased product, I don’t know) to get his stories down on paper.  I kind of Googled that this morning, and there are indeed all kinds of apps that allow you to dictate your story while you’re doing laundry, picking up dog doodoo or driving.

Do any of you use that sort of device?

I always have a lot of ideas bouncing around in my head. I’ll see something or hear something and think “that might make a good story/poem.” So I fumble around for a notebook and pen and try and jot the input down. Well, you can’t really pull over to the side of the road every five minutes when you’re driving 50 miles per hour to jot down story ideas. Nor can you sneak into the bathroom the same amount of time and write something down while at work.

So I thought…gee…this could be the device for me!

Then I thought about it.

Here’s me, driving down the backroads on my way to work, talking away on my phone/computer/bluetooth device, blabbering away scenes from chapter fifteen. And just when the killer reveals himself, there’d be a 90 degree turn in the road, and I’d miss the turn and blabber straight off the road into the cornfield.

Or what if I’m dictating a poem and I don’t notice the car in front of me has stopped? I have a hard enough time paying attention to the car in front of me the way it is.

So okay. Instead of typing on my computer (which doesn’t work because the cord is 4 hours away…you already knew that..), I dictate chapter three on my phone or Ipad from the livingroom. Again, I know me. It would go something like this:

“At this Vera stood, her well-worn dress falling down to cover Get down from there! the tops of her feet once again. She fumbled with the few buttons at her neck, her eyes and cheeks puffy I told you to get off the table! Stupid cat with sleeplessness, her scar swollen Oh shit I knocked the glass over slightly from her seated vigil all night.”

I think I’m pretty darn good at grammar and sentence structure, as I am a writer and proofreader at work. But the truth is I don’t speak as I write. I’m much more eloquent on paper than I am speaking aloud. So instead of saying, “Clouds and rain and mud and bushes all swirled together in some hideous form of vertigo. Grasping the steering wheel, all Anna could do was hold on. Her brain was being jarred, her body bouncing around as branches cracked and split under the forward motion of her car….” I would find myself saying “She crashed her car in the bushes.”

As much as I love technology, it’s not always my friend. Of course, dictating might get rid of all the “as if”s and “it seemed” and runaway semi-colons. It would save me rereading the story fifteen hundred times to catch all the repetitions. Or all the “he said” “she said”s.

I guess I’m always going to be a computer writer or a pen and paper writer, putting the words down one by one. I’m not the world’s best when it comes to multi-tasking.

And anyway, when writing, it’s like a different person enters my body and speaks for me.

And that person doesn’t drive…

Do you ever anticipate an event in your life that you eat, sleep, and dream it until that day comes? Do you fantasize the day, the evening, so much that you’ve worked out a couple of different scenarios, either of which could be the ultimate experience?

And then do you go to this marvelous event, just to have the event not be anything like your fantasies?

That happened to me yesterday.

I went to the Renaissance Faire yesterday. For you who do not know, it is a medieval world ruled by Queen Elizabeth and her lovely court and her manly advisors and knights. People dress up in authentic garb, anything from  bodices and a farthingale to men in doublets and codpieces.

The faire is made up of all kinds of vendors hawking everything from Elizabethan garb to dragon necklaces. There are entertainers everywhere, some on big stages, some standing on the dirt path. It is a jolly good time.

This time I went alone. Now, I have been going to this Faire off and on for 30 years. Times have changed. That’s fine. It’s bigger and better. They have now “theme weekends” to attract more visitors. Swashbuckler Weekend, RenCon Weekend, Monsters and Magic Weekends. Thinning out the original purpose of the faire to attract more visitors.

I used to dress up for these things. My bed and breakfast was the poor man’s Renaissance atmosphere.  I collected dragons and unicorns. I bought wreaths of flowers for my hair and mugs and pottery with dragon heads on them.

But this time it felt different. It’s been feeling different the past years.

The vendors were different, the acts were different. No problem. There was the same youthful vigor and fantasy in all the young people there.

All the young people there.

Suddenly I felt I was on the other side of the gate, looking in.

Now you know I’ve got this problem with getting older. It’s a mindset that sucks and that I’m trying to get rid of.

But sitting on a bench in a dress (no costume this year), trying to write down story ideas from lords and ladies that passed by, I realized that all the women dancing around the maypole and all the men dashing with swords were my kid’s age. The singing and the dancing and the bawdy words and acting were all done by kids half my age.

And that made me feel distant.

When I was a Rennie Groupie I was in my late 30s. I made friends with some of the vendors, bought banners and dragon napkins holders — the whole nine yards. I had had a spot (more like a strip of green) where I advertising my B&B.

Now I sit on the sideline, the old vendor’s shop now a broom market; the only banners I find (which I bought 30 years ago) are on the souvenir shop walls. None of what I thought were “quality” items were to be seen. Like those guys moved along, too.

Why does this change bother me?

I truly believe mankind needs to evolve. Each generation takes whatever’s out there and makes it their own.

Maybe I just don’t want them to take  my  worlds.

It’s like a blog I wrote some time ago about going back and walking the block where I used to live. Nothing was the same. Houses changed, streets changed. Some so drastically I was shocked.

The Renaissance Faire, other faires, are for the young and young at heart. Bringing the thought of gallantry and virtue and unicorns and dragons into a child’s heart and thoughts starts them off on a cleaner path through life.

There’s not a lot of room for crones there.

Or maybe not crones who decided to go alone and became disillusioned.

Maybe next year I’ll get all my over-50 friends to dress up and shop and drink and laugh and dance around the Maypole.

If I’m getting old I’m taking everyone else with me…

French artist Shaka (Marchal Mithouard) explores a wild intersection between painting, sculpture and graffiti with his colorfully explosive base-relief sculptures that seem to cross from the canvas into reality.

In his compositions, bodies are jostled about, represented in permanent imbalance, destabilized by a natural or human force.

The objective is to reveal, through classical themes (The Ascension) or basic human emotions (selfishness or anger) human relationships and the absurdity of certain behaviors that typify our society.

By depicting these powerful yet fragile bodies, the artist expresses his own contradictions, but more importantly the complexity of human nature.

His artistic playground includes building murals, paintings, and sculpture.

More of  Shaka’s amazing work can be found at http://www.marchalmithouard.com/

Well…needless to say, what we want isn’t always what we get. The two “older” (meaning decrepit and junk) computers won’t pick up my WiFi. So here I am at work, scrambling to get something done before the weekend. So here is my Friday Sunday Evening Art Gallery. Love you all.

It is the end of the night. I have gone grocery shopping, given the doggie her bonie, and watched The Twilight Zone. But after my busy day, I am still looking longingly and sighing at my dead computer. As you recall, my charging cord is 4 hours away, and no one is going that way for a couple of weeks.

My friend Ivor ( https://ivors20.wordpress.com), my friend and a really fine poet (check him out!) is in worse shape than me. His computer is broken…taken apart, in pieces, finuto. He manages to post via phone and the library.

I should be so versatile.

I would rather gaze longingly at my uncharged computer, lamenting the fact that the charging cord is four hours away.  And no one is going that way for at least two weeks.

I do have a couple of OLD computers that I think I’ll convert into  modern day word processors. I still can research artists for my Gallery during my lunch hour, and here I am with my IPad.

So what all this pseudo complaining just shows me that if I want to write …really want to fulfill my passion…I have to find a way to do it. Not give up. Persevere. Go for it.

This is what all artists do. Don’t have Cerulean blue for your painting?  use turquoise! Run out of gold beads? Use copper! Maybe the change is not what you planned. You don’t care for turquoise. You aren’t doing copper, your piece is gold.

So what would you rather do? Stop your painting until the weekend when you have time to run to the store to buy Cerulean? Do you put your necklace on hold because you’ve run out of gold beads?

You have to learn to work with what you have AT THE MOMENT.

Life is nothing but moments. Don’t put your creative moment on hold  because things aren’t going your way. Take the situation and make it yours. Find a way to do what you want to do.  You want to write a few chapters but your computer’s on the fritz? Write them in a notebook. Need to get that poem written?

Do what Ivor does. Write it on your phone. Don’t let your amazing moments slip away. That same moment will never come again.

Look at me! Writing all of this on an IPad! At night! And my spiral notebook will be by my side until I convert my old clunko laptop into my shadow buddy.

I still am going to look longingly at my actual computer, though…

***sigh***

Well, I’m sitting at my desk at lunch time, eating a turkey wrap, pretending it’s evening time and I’m writing to you from the comfort of my sofa.

I went away for four days with my grandkids and had a busy, wonderful, loving time. I was pretty together…being 65 around an 8- and 3-year old doesn’t take much alteration.

Packing up from a house that looked like someone set a bomb off, I packed up my computer but left the plug in cord plugged in up there. Unbeknownst to me, we drove 4 hours home sans cord, and I didn’t realize said mistake until I sat down to do my Sunday Evening Art Gallery blog.

I can’t stand when I get hit with the stupids.

And it’s happening more and more.

I mean well. I really do. I try and slow down and pay attention. I don’t think I’m a Ferrari or a cheetah. I move mid- to mid-slow and make notes.

And I still forget.

I couldn’t find my glasses yesterday morning, so I had to wear an old pair to work. Called home and hubby said they’re right here on the kitchen counter.

I always hang up  my keys when I walk in the door. Today on my way to work they weren’t there. Five minutes later I fortunately find them on that same kitchen counter under a loaf of bread.

It’s getting to be normal. And I don’t like it.

I know it’s a part of getting older, but that’s a battle I refuse to lose. I’m never getting old. I’m not leaving this earth  until I’m damn well ready.

But since I turned 60 I’ve been falling apart limb by limb, organ by organ. Brain cell by brain cell.

So as I wave goodbye to both my lunch time and you, know I’m thinking of you all the time, and can’t wait until I can snuggle in with my computer and a glass of wine and show you more gallery images or just sit and talk.

And to think…I just had a great idea for a short story….

Meet Tatsuo Horiuchi, a 73-year-old Japanese artist who creates highly detailed paintings with the most unexpected software – MS Excel.

The newly discovered artist has been interested in graphic arts for a long time, but only since his retirement 13 years ago he finally got the time he needed for the new hobby.

The idea of trying out something new in life came naturally to Horiuchi – his retirement was approaching quickly and uncompromisingly.

As in many cases, a new hobby becomes a must. Horiuchi had been interested in graphic arts for quite some time.

However, as graphics software often can be quite expensive, Horiuchi chose to challenge his artistic capabilities by creating his beautiful and highly intricate pictures with Excel.

Tatsuo Horiuchi, does not have his on website, but his work can be found across the Internet.

I finally wrote something new last night — a narrative poem.

Doesn’t it feel good when you create something new?

I’ve been working on the third book of two trilogies and I feel like I’m walking one way into the desert. Plod Plod make it to the Oasis. I love these books, and I love the endings I have in mind for them. But I’ve been working on these sets for so long I’ve forgotten how it feels to write something new and fresh and different.

I wonder if that’s a metaphor for our life.

We do the same things over and over again. Drive the same way to work, eat the same lunch, make the same meals for dinner. We play the same games, mow the lawn the same way, sleep in the same bed night after night.

Nothing wrong with any of the above, but what if we slept in the guest bedroom one night? What if we took a different route home from work? Mowed the lawn in a criss cross fashion?

I think we often don’t realize how boring we are.

Painters paint the same styles because they are good at it. Landscapes, abstracts, portraits. Jewelry makers create the same bracelets and earrings because that’s what sells.

But I wonder if that same jewelry maker has a couple of knockout pieces that defy logic (except for what it’s used for)? I wonder if off in a closet somewhere the painter has painted a whole canvas full of boxes just because?

It feels good to get out of your conformity, doesn’t it?

It feels good to do something weird and fun and different, doesn’t it?

We all need to do that. Some more than others; some more often than others. Life is too short to be boring. Make a splash. If your project is taking a long time, take a break from it now and then and try something fresh. Leave your projects to the side now and then and create something quick and fun and so-not-you.

Discover another side of your awesome personality.

You’ll be glad you did.

Alberto Giacometti is best known and admired for his tall, thin human figures in bronze.

In this series of sculptures from the years 1945-1960, by his own account Giacometti is influenced by the impressions he takes from the people hurrying in the big city.

Giacometti’s figurative sculpture came to be a hugely influential model of how the human figure might return to art.

His figures represented human beings alone in the world, turned in on themselves and failing to communicate with their fellows, despite their overwhelming desire to reach out.

The relation between figure and space becomes the central issue of his artistic work.

More of Alberto Giacometti‘s work can be found a various art galleries around the Internet including the Guggenheim and the Art Story.

This evening’s blog is more for my girlfriends out there. Of course you boys can read too, but I think my gal peeps can identify more with this.

I read my friend LA’s blog Waking Up On The Wrong Side of 50 called  My Secret Obsession. It is a delightful blog about her reasoning for buying creams and delicacies for her saggy eyes. 

The reason this blog stuck in my mind is because LA hit upon a nerve most — if not all — of us women suffer from that same affliction. Self Worth.

From a very early age, women are brought up to be pretty. Attractive. Lovely. The way we were…some say still are…brought up is dictated by men who design everything for us from dresses to shoes to underwear. Beauty is defined by how thin you are, how few (if any) laugh lines, or lines at all. Our hair is supposed to be thick and wild, our lips full, and our temperament gentle and understanding.

Now, of course, there are more and more women in the designing field, designing clothes that make sense, fit well, and wrap us in colorful colors. 

But face the truth. Society still sets the beauty bar with models and TV stars and movie stars.  We are expected to be thin (or thinish) as we age, no wrinkles, no limps, no waddles. 

We judge by our eyes first, and are judged the same way.

Now most of us are way past the need to be that perfect model. We have aged according to our lives; birthing babies, running marathons, sitting at a desk all day, all contribute to how we look and feel. 

We are beautiful inside, and most of us know that. If I were to gauge my inner beauty and love I would be off the scale. Truly. But my looks put me more at the lower end of the scale. Truly.

Which leads me to LA’s great blog. 

Not knowing her age (but somewhere, as she states, past 50), she is concerned about bags under her beautiful eyes. And knowing her, that is only the beginning of her concerns. 

I have always said that if I came into a bunch of money the first thing I’d do is have these big hereditary bags under my eyes removed. I have pretty green eyes too, but you can’t really focus on them because of these puffs beneath them.

Why are women so concerned about their looks? Who are we trying to impress? The men who dictate how we should look? Not our husbands and friends, but corporate and young hip designers?

We all want to be presentable We want to be clean and smooth and bright. The sad thing is that those traits are controlled by our inside self, not our outside self. Outside we need to use makeup or spanks or curlers to make our outside as pretty as our inside. Which is a losing cause from the beginning, for nothing can be as brilliant and cosmic as our inner self.

I am the first to admit it’s hard to let go of old habits. Heaven forbid I don’t curl my hair or try and soften those circles every day. I know many of you have left that sort of vanity behind, but you still buy clothes that look good and feel good, and perhaps shower with scented soap or brush your hair so it falls just so.

I know LA is a beautiful person just from her writing. And her discoveries about herself are normal for any woman who ages from day to day. 

What we need to do is stop judging ourselves. Stop comparing ourselves to movie stars and pop singers and all those distant points of light we’ll never reach. 

We are pretty just the way we are. No problem if we want to cover up a bit or dress up a bit. That’s the fun part of being a girl. But we can’t spend our time trying to change things we can’t change. 

Aging does a number to us all. We just balance it out with the amazing things we’ve experienced and have yet to experience.

Arguably the most controversial street artist in the world, Banksy has developed an entire art subculture devoted to his works. Banksy’s art can impact any location at any given moment.

His identity remains unknown, even after over 20 years of being involved with the graffiti scene. He has worked with many different types of street art media and street art types.

His work not only includes many powerful, often controversial images, but they may also be found throughout the Internet as viral images.

Very little is known about Banksy himself, as he refuses to be interviewed and keeps his identity carefully maintained.

A world-renowned mystery man, Banksy has risen through the ranks to become one of the world’s greatest street artists partly by creating an urgency to understand his character.

Bansky is the most enjoyable artist because he is now. He is everywhere. He is where you least expect him to be.

More of Bansky‘s art can be found at http://www.banksy.co.uk and a wall near you.

Do you have songs or movies you can barely watch a second time for they bring such an emotional knot in your chest you think you cannot handle it?

Sounds so dramatic, but I think you know what I mean. Perhaps it’s the words, the meaning, the inference, that swirls around our minds and hearts and ties everything into a knot. Perhaps it’s a really romantic ending, or a crossed love or missed opportunity. Someone dies before reconciliation. Something so simple yet so personal you surprise yourself at your reaction.

I don’t mean movies where someone dies  at the end. Those are endings I try to avoid. I mean feel good/sad endings that tug at your heart strings in that awful way.

Now, I looked around online for “movies that will break your heart at the end.” There were some doozies there. I have to admit I haven’t seen most — if not all — of them. So everyone’s list is different, depending on the texture of their heart.

For instance, I loved the movie Passion of Mind, 2000, with Demi Moore. She lives one life during the day and another at night. Her letting go at the end makes me cry deep and mournful tears every time I watch it.

It’s only a movie, missie..

Or how about the movie Camelot? That antique medieval musical where the queen marries the king and sleeps with the prince and breaks the king’s heart. The song ‘If Ever I Should Leave You” still gives me goosebumps. True, unrequited love.

There are a number of other deep movies that click my heart, but you know what I mean. Like a love song you can never let go of. Like a dream you can’t hold onto.

I think I’m a hopeless romantic. That is why I love to write. I can create my own dynamic, heart wrenching scenario and feel it over and over again. I can bring people together, punish evil, create ghosts and extraterrestrials and virgins and middle-aged goddesses. Who cares, as long as I’m in control of the heart strings.

That’s what you should do with your creativity. Love it. Embrace it. Get your heart pumping and create like there’s no tomorrow. Scare yourself. Embrace yourself. Make yourself laugh. Whether you are writing or painting, put yourself out there.

You should love it, too. After all, it’s all magic. Just ask King Arthur….

Each evening, from December to December,
Before you drift to sleep upon your cot,
Think back on all the tales that you remember
of Camelot.

Ask ev’ry person if he’s heard the story,
And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
called Camelot

Where once it never rained till after sundown,
By eight a.m. the morning fog had flown…
Don’t let it be forgot
That once there was a spot
For one brief shining moment that was known
As Camelot.

Blending themes of pop culture with techniques reminiscent of the old masters, Mark Ryden has created a singular style that blurs the traditional boundaries between high and low art.

His work first garnered attention in the 1990s when he ushered in a new genre of painting, “Pop Surrealism”, dragging a host of followers in his wake.

Ryden has trumped the initial surrealist strategies by choosing subject matter loaded with cultural connotation.

 Seduced by his infinitely detailed and meticulously glazed surfaces, the viewer is confronted with the juxtaposition of the childhood innocence and the mysterious recesses of the soul.

A subtle disquiet inhabits his paintings; the work is achingly beautiful as it hints at darker psychic stuff beneath the surface of cultural kitsch.

More of Mark Ryden‘s work can be found at https://www.markryden.com/

Lately I’ve been opening my blogs with a reference to my getting older. I guess instead of fighting it I need to embrace it. Or whatever. I don’t cherish getting older…nor do I relish it, look forward to it, or use it to my advantage.

But I know I suffer from what my parent’s generation and my grandparent’s generation suffered from…what is this world coming to?

I wrote a novel about a woman who goes back in time to 1880. Talk about repression. And men were the ones who not only suppressed but designed the clothing they were forced to wear. I mean, long sleeves and a bustle in 90 degree weather?

I survived the bellbottom years, the polyester years, the shoulder pad years, and the overhalls-with-one-strap-down years. I’ve survived looking at underwear sticking way up over jeans, mini skirts and turban wraps.

But I can’t survive the clothing of the 18’s.

Now let me explain my personal hangups first.

I have always had a self-image problem. Certain parts of my anatomy were always too large for fashion, so everything I wore was conservative. I loosened up in my 20s, but was never brave enough to show it all off, as it were.

I try and have an open mind when it comes to fashion, knowing that each generation pushes it to the limit in one way or another. Women should not be afraid to dress the way they want. It is a free world, after all.

I went to an outdoor concert last weekend, and it was a perfect evening for people watching. And did I watch. Every age, every color, every height and weight. It was fascinating. But what I wasn’t fascinated with were the lengths and tops of the younger girls.

Here comes my old biddie attitude.

They were wearing tops as dresses. I was glad none of them bent over while walking by. They were wearing clothes that were too tight for their figure or too low cut. Now I have been known to wear low cut on occasion (especially after I’ve lost weight), but there was too much information pushed together as amazing cleavage to suit my taste.

These weren’t models in their mid-20s either. These were high school and college girls, big girls, skinny girls, not a care in the world as to who sees what.

And I wondered. Is this the fashion of today?

There was sex written all over these outfits. That come-hither look was as popular as the band playing country music. Now before you think me a prude, I’m all for sex and showing what you’ve got and teasing and shining and all that. But how far do you go to show it off?

I hate saying “in my day”, but in my day there were also girls who pushed the fashion limit. They didn’t bother me then. They would bother me now, though.

Now not everyone dressed for a day at the beach. The majority were shorts and tops and sun dresses. (I was in the sundress category.) There were families, couples, singles, all walking back and forth from one stage to the other. The shorts women were just as happy as the shirt/dress women.

I just wonder why it bothered me so much.

Was I jealous because they were young and carefree and I was not?

Was I worried that they gave the impression they were ready for what short skirts usually bring even if they were not?

Was I all hung up on sex when no one else was?

Alas, I’m sure the girls had a great time as did their friends and dates. And not one was disturbed at the message they were promoting. If they were promoting at all.

Maybe it’s a mom thing. A grandma thing. Or, dare I wonder, if it’s a woman thing.

Yes, I hate getting older. And the judgement that comes with it.

Although I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping up with technology, when I talk with real technology gurus it’s like talking to someone who only speaks Chinese.

I do love the ability to turn on a machine and write away, save it, delete some, insert some, and not having used half a tree to do so.

I  also am loving the unique and unusual art I am finding for my gallery.

Most of my loyal readers know this blog has a feature called Sunday Evening Art Gallery. I post 5-6 pictures every Sunday with a short intro to the artist. A few weeks later I post the mother load on my actual Sunday Evening Art Gallery website, showing you the magnificent works these artists create.

I dabbled in painting when I was in high school. I never took formal classes, but I loved being able to create something  unique. I found it was easier for me to take up writing, creating something unique with every word.

With today’s technology I am able to discover artists I’ve never heard of, or research artists I’ve known my entire life. It’s an amazing world out there, and I love the beauty of discovery.

I didn’t realize this was an advertisement for my art gallery site until just now. But if you haven’t taken a look over there, please do. You will find you get lost in worlds you never knew existed.

Oh! And by the way — if you know or have a favorite artist, email me at humoring_the_goddess@yahoo.com and let me know. I want to know what you love, what you enjoy, what you like but don’t understand.

Come on over and wander one evening. You never know who you’ll see there.

Have a beautiful week, my friends.

Stanislav Aristov presents a whole new way of shocking through a snap shot. It only involves a couple of burnt match sticks. And loads of fun.

Admittedly, it also probably involves Photoshop. But nobody really cares.

Stanislav Aristov, also known as Pol Tergejst, is a 30 year old photographer from Ekaterinburg, Russia, that can truly make macro – miracles happen, within the seconds needed for a match stick to quietly burn.

 He describes his “Спички” ([spitch-kee] – meaning “matchsticks” in Russian) series as capturing “the big lives of the tiny wood splinters”.

This again goes to prove that a true artist can find artistic potential even in the smallest and most commonplace objects around him.

More of Stanislav Aristov‘s amazing art can be found at http://poltergejst.com/.

I must admit that I am embarrassingly addicted…it should be alcohol or drugs, but no such luck. I’m addicted to Chinese TV Series with English Subtitles.

I know that sounds geeky, and perhaps it is. But let me encourage you — once you get involved you’ll find it hard to stay away.

I watched these TV series (on Netflix) backwards. First was King’s War, mostly about the a lowly peasant who fought wars against the Qin territory and became the first Chu emperor in 202 BC. I love the series because of the drama, the costumes, the vastness of the world of China. 

Of course, at one time, the Qin army surrendered to the Chu encampment, and since the Chu couldn’t feed the extra 200,000 men, they slaughtered them all, including pushing many of them over a cliff.

In the series I’m currently watching, Qi Alliance, I’m already on the 5th chapter. I love the series because of the drama, the costumes, the vastness of the world of China.

And in the first five chapters there was a war that demolished 80,000 soldiers in one sweep.

I think that besides being enchanted by the Asian world, it rocks me into reality about how barbaric the world has always been. Our World Wars and our Civil War doesn’t hold a candle to the barbaric savagery of the ancient world. 

As much as it crushes us every time there is a death in our lives and in our world, I imagine the wives of the soldiers of Chu  were crushed as well. Most of the army was made up of peasant soldiers or tradesmen that ate nothing but rice and perhaps chicken twice a year and a handful of vegetables scraped from the earth.

How do you feed 200,000 extra soldiers, then? 

Of course, those two examples are only the tip of the death iceberg. Consider:

In the Tai Ping Rebellion civil war, which lasted from 1850 to 1864, the total casualties (including civilians) were reportedly anywhere from 20 million to 100 million. 

The Mongols, a tribe of nomadic horsemen from Central Asia, may have killed as many as  18.4 million people in East Asia alone throughout the 13th century .

Today the numbers are much smaller. But there are still numbers. 

I myself can’t figure out how two positions can hate each other so much that their only solution is death. But it has been so since BC, and now it’s AD and we are still killing each other.

I imagine the mothers of the sons of the Chu and the mothers of the sons of Vietnam all wondered the same thing.

Back to the movies, though…they are quite entertaining. The Chinese and Japanese points-of-view are refreshing and curious, to be certain. To me it’s like another world. Like Mars or Alderan.

And I love to escape when I can. Far away from our daily war.

Sorry I haven’t been around much lately…a weekend stop for the whole weekend at the hospital does put a cramp on your writing and socializing. I developed a medical condition that needed liquid IVs. Happy to say I am home and so much better so all is well.

But being alone for 2-1/2 days with nothing but stat checks and veins that wouldn’t cooperate was cause for mental munching. And I wondered…could this have been avoided?

This is not a case of self-condemnation — it’s a case of being human.

And wondering if we all do it.

We get a cut. We wipe it off with our sleeve and think it’s okay, when we know there’s a chance of infection.

We run across the street because we’re late for work, in rain, in sunny weather, all seasons. We know there’s a chance we could slip and fall, but we ignore it, because we are in good shape.

We develop a cold that moves into our chest, but we don’t believe it will turn into pneumonia because it’s really not that bad.

How many times do we as humans take the short road? Ignore symptoms and predicaments and swim away like a newly released fish? We weigh the odds, the options, the worst-case scenario. And most times we bet on the the popular vote — it’s not that serious.

And most times we are right.

But there are other times we pay for that glib choice. We know we’ve dug open a sore one too many times. Taken cold medicine and gone out to conquer the world. Eaten a decadent desert even though we’re diabetic.

And sometimes it all comes back to bite us in the arse.

I’m thinking I’m in the latter group. I knew my “condition” might trigger something worse… I’ve beaten the odds so many times. So this time would be the same escape as before.

But it wasn’t.

We as adults need to pay more attention to our bodies and take care of them the first sign of trouble. That doesn’t mean your sinuses flair up and you stay home from work for a week — it means taking care of the illness when it first flairs up.

It means paying attention to weird twitches and shortness of breath and pain in body parts and open wounds. It means not worrying what others think of your precautions, but following through on treatment. It doesn’t mean calling the doctor for every little ache — it means paying attention to that ache and noticing if its getting worse.

In our minds, all humans want to be invincible. We want to be strong and healthy and to be able to take the world on without a complaint.

But we’re not that way. None of us. We are mere human beings that just want to stick around on the planet as long as we can.

So put your big boy (or girl) pants on and take care of what needs to be taken care of. Better to take a visit to the doctor than a visit to the hospital. Or the grave. And believe me, there are many around you who want you to stick around a lot longer.

And if you don’t want your co-workers to know you spent the weekend in the hospital, tell them you jetted to Paris for the weekend.

Unless you live in Paris. Then you’re caught.

I usually don’t write a blog two nights in a row, but I’m on a writing high these days, and so many ideas are running through my head and dancing in my hair.

I am a fantasy writer, but it’s fantasy with a modern twist. Usually my heroine is female, and she finds herself in improbable and impossible situations.  It’s my way of dealing with the bizarre.

You can do it, too. All you have to do is start with….What If?

I know I wrote a blog about “what if”, but this is an exercise in getting a story written. Here are some ideas.

What if you were driving home from work one afternoon and in the distance, over the tops of the trees, you see a giant ant ripping off tops of houses?

What if you went to bed one night with your special someone and the next morning they had a totally different face?

What if you walked through a cornfield and came out in another world?

What if you went for a walk in the evening and you actually met an elf  or a dwarf?

What if you were driving and you lost control of your car and crashed, waking up in the 1800s?

What if you were relaxing one night, watching TV, and you say something to your dog, and he answers you in English?

What if someone  crystallized into your living room one morning and asked you to come along with her/him on an adventure?

I know it all sounds goofy, but think about it. Close your eyes and just think if any of the above happened to you. Or to your friend. Or to your cousin. What would they do? For real?

My favorite form of writing is to put a modern day person in an absolutely wacky situation. Their situations are REAL. There really is a giant ant walking behind the trees. The person really walks through a cornrfield and finds a different world at the other end.

That is how you get inspirations for stories. A few of the above are my story ideas.  And I’ve had a ball with all of them.

Your “What If?” can be anything you want. It doesn’t have to be out-of-this-world — it could be What If you witnessed a murder? A kidnapping? Someone stealing from the books?

Let your mind wander into various What If Worlds until you find one that appeals to you. Then keep it real within the parameters of the main character. How they deal with the strange and unusual is up to you. 

Let the unusual be as real as you can make it. 

Then go for it. You can’t lose.

Davide Bonazzi was born and raised in Bologna, Italy.

Bonazzi aims to create clever visual solutions to represent complex topics, as well as narrative, witty images.

His style combines digital media with textures of scanned found objects, in order to give his illustrations a warm and evocative atmosphere.

Most of Bonazzi’s work is for magazines, corporations, and advertising.

More of Davide Bonazzi’s marvelous graphic work can be found at http://www.davidebonazzi.com/