Croning My Way Through Life
To my ears, jazz sounds better in warm weather and after the sun has gone down. While I will listen to some of my favorite jazz records in cooler weather, it’s the warmer nights that really make them come alive. Something about those sounds and the heat of the night really makes it happen for me. ~ Henry Rollins
Nick Reynolds is a social documentary photographer based in Kent, England.
His connection with the world around him is reflected in the photos he so consciously captures in black and white.
Reynolds refrains from framing or creating too much meaning or explanation of his work other than that which strikes the viewer directly and immediately.
Too much explanation or pre-interpretation on his part would undermine the viewer’s freedom to experience the work simply as it appears to be.
Reynolds believes that art is the realm in which we can express most purely and deeply that which lies hidden in both our personal and collective unconscious.
A glimpse into the world of shadows and light, his photography speaks for itself.
More of Nick Reynold’s photography can be found at https://nickreynolds.myportfolio.com. He also has experimental blog of thoughts and ideas at http://nickreynolds.art.blog.
Every now and then I thought I’d share photographs I’ve taken of certain landscapes I find magical. Just my personal photographs — no professional photographers or computer enhancements here …
© 2020 WritingUnicorn
I wanted to address the reactions to yesterday’s Sunday Evening Art Gallery, Bruno Pontiroli. Bruno is a surrealist, and his paintings are creative in an uncomfortable way.
Those of you who responded that they made you uncomfortable; that you didn’t really care for the vibes the images gave you — Thank you. I can’t tell you how good feedback feels.
That is the purpose of Art.
I don’t remember how I found Bruno, but I’ve had him in my gallery repertoire for some time. His paintings are clear and expressive. But the images themselves made me take a step back and wonder. Should I? Or shouldn’t I?
I honestly enjoy all the artists I highlight. In that same vein, I’m not always comfortable with their art.
Look at Zdzisław Beksiński. or Anton Semenov. H.R. Giger. Even some of Salvador Dali‘s work is mind bending. Who knows what their motivation was.. Haunting visions of reality.
Some art is really hard to look at. To understand. Hard to like.
I am proud of those of you who had adverse reactions to yesterday’s art and said so. You said nothing derogatory about the artist — just the form the artist took.
Keep your minds open.
Its good for you, it’s good for the world of art. If a certain style or piece of art stirs something inside of you — good OR bad — then the artist has achieved what they’ve worked a life time to achieve.
A Reaction.
Bruno Pontiroli is a French surreal artist, whose aim is to “turn the narrow vision that we have of the world upside down and disturb our imagination while shaking an accepted reality with images that are as comprehensible as they are familiar”.
In Bruno’s fascinating and unusual body of work, he begins his artworks with easily-recognized animals that he then shapes “the way a child plays with modeling clay or a building set.”
An admirer of René Magritte, Bruno finds inspiration in situations, books and images that surround him.
Pontiroli creates mind-bending explorations of the relationship between humans and animals.
The artist shies away from labeling his work as Surrealist or Dadaist, instead proposing a new version of reality without categorization.
His work is so enjoyable precisely because it’s familiar yet strange.
According to Pontiroli, “My aim is turn the narrow vision that we have of the world upside down and disturb our imagination while shaking an accepted reality with images that are as comprehensible as they are familiar. Distorting a symbol or mixing opposing universes allows me to question the identity of things so that I can reinvent them.”
More of Bruno Pontiroli‘s mind-bending work can be found at https://www.instagram.com/brunopontiroli.
A cloudy, humid Saturday morning.
It’s funny that, even though I’m retired, I still look forward to Saturday mornings. Years of working Monday through Friday can do that to you.
But whaf if you’re a nurse or a waiter or a postal worker? Many people never get Saturday off. And it’s like no big deal. They get a different day off — one where the rest of us are toiling away.
When the Boston Store was in business, I worked a lot of Saturdays. And Sundays. And holidays. It wasn’t too bad either, except I had to work Monday through Friday too.
Maybe the magic of Saturday started in my youth. Saturday morning cartoons. Going for morning bike rides. Making plans for Saturday nights with girlfriends. Doing things only kids can do on Saturday.
Of course, no memory is as glorious as the one you try to remember. Most Saturdays were probably spent fighting with siblings or doing chores or catching up on homework. Saturday nights often did not include a date, and, if you were like me, there were no friends to hang around with, either. If you were too young, you probably wasted the evening with a babysitter or watching boring movies you didn’t understand and having to go to bed long before you were tired, just because.
I choose to remember my youth ( what parts I CAN remember) as gauze wrapped sparking gems in time that always began on Saturday morning and ended when Bonanza was over Sunday evening. I can do that.
And, for the most part, I can finally spend Saturday mornings the way ~I~ want to. I can do that, too.
Where is the cartoon channel?
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. ~ Mark Twain
Rub the Lamp and Get Three Wishes
I always have the good intention of going to bed early and getting a good night’s sleep. It’s not until closer to midnight or 1 a.m. that I slip under the covers. I could say it’s bad habits, unhealthy sleep patterns, or old age. I’d probably be right on all three counts.
But I find that as the evening progresses I find more and more things to read and research and update than during the daylight hours.
Unconsciously — or maybe consciously — I relegate the daylight for activities. Cleaning house. Grocery shopping. Weeding the garden. Visiting the grandkids. Even though I’m retired I feel like I should always be “doing” something during the day so I don’t turn into a slug.
But then evening comes. Evening is my favorite time of the day. Every day.
TV has been a bust lately. Hubby’s not home three or four times a week. Dishes are done, laundry is folded. It’s magic time.
Of course, I don’t have a lot of energy going into the evening, but I push through anyway, and sure enough, a second wind comes along about 10 p.m. That doesn’t bode well for a long, good night’s sleep … but I can’t seem to resist.
I love reading other blogs. I love researching artists for my blog. I enjoy editing things I’ve written. I enjoy looking around for something to write about. I enjoy exploring other art galleries. And I love doing it in the peace and quiet of the evening. I look out the window, keeping an eye on a beautiful sunset, having an evening snack — what could be more productive?
I just should learn to be productive before 7 p.m. Not 11 p.m.
When is your most creative time of the day?
Paul Stankard is an internationally acclaimed artist and pioneer in the studio glass movement..
During his ten year scientific glassblowing career, he became a master of fabricating complex instruments.
In 1972, Paul left industry to pursue his dream of being creative in glass full time.
His translucent orbs bursting with activity and life are made entirely from glass.
When Stankard suddenly directed a decade of industrial glass working techniques into the interpretation of flowers, bees, vines, and leaves encased in glass, it wasn’t long before art dealers discovered his work and he began to create art full-time.
According to Stankard, ““By blending mysticism with magical realism, I work to express organic credibility through my botanical interpretations.”
“Crafted in glass, I reference the continuum of nature and celebrate on an intimate level her primal beauty.”
More of Paul Stankard’s amazing glasswork can be found at http://www.paulstankard.com/.
Come Saturday morning
I’m goin’ away with my friend
We’ll Saturday-spend till the end of the day-ay
Just I and my friend
We’ll travel for miles in our Saturday smiles
And then we’ll move on
~ Fred Karlin
Language is the foundation of many of the Arts. To instruct, to classify, to share your Art you must understand and communicate with words. Then, of course, command of the language is essential to mastering the craft of reading and writing.
Everyone has their “own” version of their language. There is slang, dialect, style, and dozens of other ways that writers turn language into something powerful and creative.
When I first started writing I had a more stylized repertoire of words and phrases in my head that I could call on to write copy. But as time went on I realized I was not a “formalized“ writer. My style is more relaxed and personal, like I’m sitting across the table talking to you.
Our favorite authors are chosen based on their ability to be creative with their words. Lately I have been dipping into H.P. Lovecraft from the early 1900s, an American writer whose style is more Gothic, like Edgar Allan Poe and Mary Shelley.
Sometimes an opening passage really sets the tone. Here is the beginning of his famous work, The Call of Cthulhu:
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
His use of the language of the times is crisp and graceful. At least to me.
Which leads me to the point of this blog.
Whose writing style do you enjoy reading? Share their name and, if your time permits, the opening sentence from your favorite book. I realize if you love to read, you embrace many styles for your many moods, but maybe there is a sentence or opening passage that just rings your bell.
I’d love to see what styles appeal to you, my friends in the blogging world.
Way back in October of 2014, I asked the question:
Glass is exquisite in its delicate beauty. A crystal vase, a hand-blown wine glass, a stained-glass window, all stir the pot of reactions that make the word “sparkle” sparkle. Working with glass is an incredible art. It is so delicate, so refined, a true art of mind over matter. So what if glass represents a disease? Is it still “sparkling” and “refined”?
In the midst of today’s pandemic, Luke Jerram seems to have found a way.
These, and other microscopic cells and diseases made of sparkling glass, can be found at my Sunday Evening Art Gallery and at https://www.lukejerram.com.
Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.
~ Ambrose Bierce
People say animals aren’t smart. Oh, they can mimic and bring the ball back and react appropriately to your words. But they’re not smart.
I am here to say — I honor your opinion, but my dog is smart. My dog can tell time.
My mother-in-law used to give the dogs treats when they’d go outside and do their business. Bad habit or not, I picked up that one. Then somehow or another that turned into giving the dogs a bonie at 7 p.m. Another bad habit, perhaps.
That habit went through a few dogs through the years. But now I have my son’s dog — now my dog — and I swear she knows whenever 7 p.m. comes around.
Wherever we are, no matter what we’re doing, my dog sits down right in front of me at 7 p.m. every day. Time change? Doesn’t matter. Sitting outside? Doesn’t matter. Rain? Sleet? Snow? Doesn’t matter. No clock in sight? Doesn’t matter. Every evening at 7 p.m., there she is. Watching me. Pacing. Panting. Asking politely for her 7 o’clock B.
If I ignore her, she continues her quest. Moving around. Laying down. Sighing. Squealing softly. Changing positions. Watching. Always watching. Until I get up, go to the pantry, and pull out a chewie and give it to her. It used to be rawhides, but since her teeth are getting bad we’ve moved to dental stix.
But it’s always at 7 p.m. Or should I say, it STARTS at 7 p.m.
Does this sound like I spoil my dog?
I’d like not to think so. I’d like to think that I have created yet another habit that I give her credit for. Like bringing the ball back. That she’s still as dumb as a box of rocks.
She taught my brother-in-law’s dog (who is staying with us now) when it’s 7 o’clock, too.
See? She even knows how to train other dogs…..
Jess Bell is a Canadian photographer and animal lover.
Bell is very passionate about animal photography, and recently created artistic images of animals in action.
The bright colors and dynamic swirls are captured in real time, the powder acting as a perfect action amplification device.
As a result, every single image is unique and highlights the amazing differences between how dogs of various breeds and body shapes move. 
Bell says, “Animal photography is my passion. I endeavor to create impacting images that go beyond the standard photograph to become true works of art.
“I use light, color and the beauty of the natural world to bring images alive; to convey the love and energy embodied by our four-legged companions.”
“As a result, every single image is unique and highlights the amazing differences between how dogs of various breeds and body shapes move.”
More of Jess Bell‘s amazing photography can be found at http://www.jessbellphotography.com.
Some evenings I am so pumped up to work on my writing I can’t sit still. I do research, first drafts, correspondence, quotes — my resources are endless. Other evenings I sit like a frozen Popsicle in front of the computer screen, fingers poised to write, nothing coming out.
It’s like the heart is there, but the mind is not. It is in a million other places. And nowhere.
Do you ever feel like that?
How do you get your engine revved up after you finish a big project? Do you have to wait for the next inspiration to hit you before you can move forward? Do you do “busy” work in the background, like clean up photos, arrange or delete or arrange notes until inspiration returns?
My A.D.D. can’t take sitting still, imagining nothing.
My book about going to Paris was so tough — and so pleasurable — I have no idea where to go next. I look back on past work, and I just don’t feel like going back in that direction. Time travel, love, misunderstanding self and the world around them. I don’t feel like making up worlds like a couple of other books. I don’t feel like “visiting” Italy or Japan at the moment. Nor traveling between realms.
Can creative people ever sit still?
Let me know how you deal with restlessness. Where you get new ideas from.
Being locked down in the pandemic, real travel is out of the question. Astral travelling is on hold as well. No spaceships or faerie trains leaving the station for a while. Crystal caves and church crypts are closed for construction now, too. It’s too hot for glam camping, and all the art and music festivals both around here or over at Rivendell or Shangri-La have been cancelled this year as well. All the mythical beasts I can catch a ride with are already booked with other travelers.
I could try and find a few 1930s/1940s movies to take me back somewhere. I wonder where Fred Astaire got off to? Probably having dinner with Captain Kirk or Randolph Scott. Figures I wasn’t invited this time. Maybe one of Al Capone’s speakeasies are still open for late night drinks! Or at least one of those all-nighters like the Mos Eisley Cantina or Quark’s Bar should be open.
Don’t worry — I’ll come up with something.
A Tiffany Lamp is a type of lamp with a glass shade made with glass designed by Louis Comfort Tiffany and his design studio.
Famously associated with the Art Nouveau movement, the extravagantly decorative Tiffany lamps are rare and highly-sought collectors’ items.
Hand crafted, the iconic stained glass lamps, lamp shades, lights and window panels were created by soldering together small pieces of colored glass to produce enchanting and individual objects.
Genuine Tiffany lamps were made between 1890 and 1930.
Tiffany studios used confetti glass which changes color when the lamp is lit. They have a bronze base; however, there were no zinc, wood or plastic versions.
Over twenty years of time, Tiffany designed many specific styles of his lamps.
Most of his luminaries can be grouped into one of seven specific categories, defining their detailed characteristics: the Irregular Upper and Lower Border, Favrile, Geometric, Transition to Flowers, Flowered Cone, and Flowered Globe Lamps.
Genuine Tiffany lamps can be found at reputable dealers and websites across the Internet.
When I think of art I think of beauty. Beauty is the mystery of life. It is not in the eye it is in the mind. In our minds there is awareness of perfection. – Agnes Martin
A beautiful summer’s day outside. I should be out there, walking, or at least fetching the dog, walking down the paths, daydreaming of new story lines or what color to color my hair.
Instead, I’m inside, sitting in front of my computer. Final editing, I say. Looking for dinosaur remote cars for my grandson, I say. Ordering the six disc Lord of the Rings/Hobbit movies, I say.
This is insane.
I’m going outside in five minutes. I just wanted to share that I have found so many amazing, beautiful, unusual artists for upcoming Sunday Evening Art Galleries that I’m about to burst.
Humankind can be sooooooo creative. Amazing to the point where they put me to shame.
Happy, it’s okay shame, so to speak.
Here are a couple of pictures of upcoming blogs: Take a look and be amazed, too.
There are more, more, more. I hope I don’t overcrowd your Reader. But I want to get the majesty and quirkiness and beauty of the Arts out there where it is loved and appreciated — in your hands.
Continue your creative quest. Keep trying. Don’t be afraid to be the same; don’t be afraid to be different.
And share your creativity with those around you. With me. With the world.
Gotta go outside now……
Morgana Wallace is a Victoria, British Columbia based artist.
Her mixed media compositions are created through a fine treatment of collage working the paper to create multiple layers and various textures.
Additionally, she will apply gauche to many of her works to add detail.
Each piece brings together references of various mythologies with fantastical and dream like elements, creating engaging and complex works of art.
Wallace often uses Japanese linen paper in her work because of her attraction to its texture, mixing it with thin card stock to create her characters’ flowing hair.
Other materials used in her works include X-ACTO knives, water colors, gouache, and pencil crayons.
To create depth and shadows she also uses foam board which adds to the painterly quality of her scenes.
More of Morgana Wallace‘s work can be found at http://www.madronagallery.com/artists/morgana-wallace.
I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight
What may not bless my waking eyes.
~Anne Brontë
December, 2014. Snow. Blow. For many of us, thoughts of a winter landscape are still six months away. But reflecting back on the beauty of these ice formations, I tend to think of them more as spun glass than ice crystals.
Find more snowflakes in the Gallery — open all day and night!
If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees. ~Khalil Gibran
A wonderful repost today from a blogger I’ve followed for quite a while. A reflection of what is going on around us … yet hope for the future.
At 6 AM everyday, I see an old man sitting alone in the park, sipping hot coffee from his Peet’s mug. He keeps his mask under his chin, and watches the birds flying above. I try to keep the social distance, tip-toe, and balance my steps with my foggy glasses and cotton masks. Yet I wonder why he is there, for months, at that time of the day, alone.
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Do you ever do anything that, frankly, surprises you?
Not necessarily something that brings out your heroic side or your demonic side — more like something that pops up and you react to it, then are surprised about your reaction?
I think it started with an email I received. I don’t remember the actual trigger, but I found myself going online and searching for my maiden name. I’d never done that before, or, if I had, it was so long ago I didn’t care.
So I found my maiden name, and there were a couple of us. That’s no surprise. But then there was a picture of my mother and father at my very first wedding 45 years ago. That marriage barely lasted a year, and is such old news it could be filed along with the Great Depression and the Drafting of the Constitution of the United States.
Way back then there was no Internet. No social media. No Facebook.
How did that picture wind up online?
I didn’t even recognize the couple. It had to be my parents, yet I don’t remember even having a photographer back then.
I started to freak out.
Now, some of you would continue researching photos and Ancestery.com and other family members to see just what the Internet has on your past. After all, it is YOUR past. My late brother’s picture kept popping up, a wonderful man who died way too soon for all of us. And there was an old picture of a couple who could or could not have been my parents (it was too fuzzy to see without paying a history service).
But I froze. I suddenly didn’t want to look back that far into my past.
I felt like I was looking up someone’s skirt. The past was the past. Not terrible, not wonderful — just life. And a life so far removed from my family of today that I felt no real connection to it. When I lost my brother I lost the last of my family. I was alright with that.
Why did seeing my maiden name online freak me out so much?
I realized that I don’t look that far back at my past at all. I try not to think about old friends, old family get togethers, old jobs. I don’t have haunting memories or terrible experiences to expunge; I don’t really have any regrets about the choices I made. And past boyfriends don’t really matter, as I’ve been happily married for 38 years. I loved my parents and still dream of them now and then. So there’s no psychological mumbo jumbo to work through.
I know my present is much more across the board on the Internet these days. Writing a blog, using online services, and having friends who also carouse the Internet, makes keeping your current name and place public knowledge. We all have more info online than we want to admit.
But information from 45 years ago? That’s nobody’s business. I don’t really feel it’s any of my business, either. Not after all these years. How strange.
This adverse reaction surprised me at the time, but really, it shouldn’t. I’ve swept off the road behind me for some time now, concentrating on where I am today and where I am going tomorrow. My little brain cannot possibly multi task like that without short circuiting somewhere down the line.
And I have enough short circuiting going on as it is……
Rebecca Louise Law is a London-based installation artist, best known for her breathtaking interactive large-scale installations consisting of thousands of suspended flowers.
Rebecca is widely recognized for colossal floral artworks sculpted using her signature copper wire.
She works with fresh or dry flora and allows the work to change naturally.
Large scale artworks are site-specific, designed with the space, patron and local culture in mind.
Smaller scale sculptures are encased in Victorian-style vitrines that
serve to preserve the contents – flowers, foliage and sometimes
insects – in a moment of time.
Law has been working with natural materials and flowers for over 17 years. Her work is underpinned by her love of exploring the interlinked relationship between humanity and nature.
Law is passionate about natural change and preservation, allowing her work to evolve as nature takes its course and offering an alternative concept of beauty.
More of Rebecca Louise Law‘s amazing work can be found at https://www.rebeccalouiselaw.com/.
A post from three years ago — it popped up (again!) in my Facebook feed. I think it’s even more appropriate now.
You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
Know when to run
You never count your money
When you’re sittin’ at the table
There’ll be time enough for countin’
When the dealin’s done.
It’s a precarious ledge we stand on, isn’t it?
Do you know when to hold your ground? When to give in?
When to walk away? When to Run?
It’s not as easy as it seems, is it?
We want to run away, we want to stay and fight.
We say it’s not worth it, yet sometimes it’s all there is.
Pick your battles.
Fight the fights worth fighting for.
Blow off the rest.
A stay in a hospital isn’t worth it.
Nor is a broken soul.
Every gambler knows
That the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away
And knowin’ what to keep
‘Cause every hand’s a winner
And every hand’s a loser
And the best that you can hope for
Is to die in your sleep.
~Kenny Rodgers
I’m the dragonfly rising on the wings of unlocked dreams on the verge of magical things.
We all have them — we either collect them or know someone who collects them — we can’t seem to help ourselves — even if we merely say “that’s so cute!” If you have some you can add, come on! Jump, rattle, and salt n’ pepper!
Sometimes I find the flow of discovering unique artists fascinating. Sometimes my wandering leads me nowhere — other times it opens doors of pure delight.
What is Art?
We all have our definition as to what has an aesthetic quality and what is just nonsense. I don’t mean the artist’s work is nonsense; it means you now and then come across something that is fascinating, yet so different, that you can’t make heads nor tails of it.
How do I choose whom to highlight? And whom to pass by?
I hate passing by any artist I come across. Each artist puts their soul into their work, whether it’s intricate or massive. Some are called by color; others by texture or complexity. Some are called by the dark side. Others — angels. You get what I mean.
How do I know which artists to share with you?
Sometimes it’s hard.
I try and stay “unique.” That’s the big ticket. What’s the difference between “unique” and “bizarre”? I guess it’s the story about the artist that cinches the deal. I try to find art that can be disturbing yet is ingenious. Amazing yet understandable. I’ve seen a few lately that make me wonder.
It’s all such a whirlygig. But it’s interesting and fun. Suggestions are always welcome.
I really hope you are enjoying these unique artists. They are all part of the glowing, growing world of art.
Art with a capital
I came across this post the other eve, and I absolutely love the idea of a collaborative poem. I love the way each other’s words swirl around each other. Thank you, Lucy!
__________________________
This is a collaborative poem between me and Ryan Hair. I wrote the lines in italics, while his lines are in regular font. I do hope you enjoy our poem; it was quite thrilling to write it together.
As I go through this journey of life, I can not find any way alone. I need you by my side. I need you to be my true north, my compass, and my guide.
Subdued, my dear.
Unreeling in the emptiness
in limb by limb
we are dreaming;
the wind howls
and endures the body of the crow
and pigeon,
It consumed me, as I walk in the world. Know that I am lost and alone. I button my coat and hug myself, trying to shield myself from damp and dark.
You see me, I see you
the waves cast illusion
into the eye of the eve;
dead flowers
my bare fingers
trace
each white catalpa dead, and a sea
continues to flow
My only companion is the cold winter wind, which is cutting through the wool of my coat
Blood sweat falls from the thorns
and white petals
like fingernails; the winter wind shuts
my eyes, I see you, I see you,
but in prose, these pleas are lost;
our madness deadens the membrane
of us.
(more)
……… https://lucysworks.com/2020/07/18/i-can-not-find-any-way-alone-ft-ryan-hair/
Franz Marc (1880-1916) was a German print maker and artist.
He not only had an influence on art during his time, but was considered to be one of the key figures of the Expressionist movement in Germany.
Influences such as Fauvism, Cubism and Impressionism all impacted on the way in which Franz Marc created form. 
After early experiments with Naturalism and Realism, Marc later eschewed those styles in favor of the greater symbolic potential of abstraction.
He is most famous for his images of brightly colored animals, especially horses, which he used to convey profound messages about humanity, the natural world, and the fate of mankind.
Color was extremely important for Marc. Not only did he understand the potential for color to affect mood, he developed a specific theory of color symbolism.
Franz Marc spent time analyzing the use of color within art history. He then formulated a method of color for his own work.
Blue tones would symbolize strength and masculinity, yellows for the feminine side, and red with the physical and violent modern world.
More of Franz Marc‘s beautiful art can be found at http://www.franzmarc.org/.
Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray. ~Lord Byron
This popped up on my Facebook history this morning from four years ago. Had to repost it. Come on everybody — let’s go crazy together!
It is truly the beginning of Summer — 85-90 degrees, thunderstorms out of nowhere, sweaty body parts and streets that wave in the heat (who ever thought?)
Trying to find time to finish my Sunday Evening Art bloggeroonie, along with cleaning, cooking, watering the plants, catch up on Game of Thrones, play fetchie with the dogs, and run around with my grandson. I don’t remember being this busy 30 years ago when my own kids were little. All this running around with lists and markerboards and post-it notes full of things I don’t want to forget make me begin to wonder.
I sometimes wonder if I am at the beginning stages of dementia — I forget names, I forget occasions. I get turned around at the drop of a hankie. I was talking to my bff in the car on the way to the Art Fair Saturday: we were in…
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After months of angst and woe and apprehension, I have finally finished my book.
It feels amazing.
I am a lame duck in the writing world. I have written many a novel, a short story, a poem. But I don’t toot my horn often and I haven’t been published, except for an article here and there a number of years ago.
Of course there is editing editing editing to do. But I have followed the road to its end.
I am of the strange sort that it doesn’t really matter if I get published or not. It’s the thrill of the chase that sustains me.
Surely you have had creative moments where all you want to do is — create. You have this nebulous or fairly detailed idea in your head of something you want to make. Pick an art. It doesn’t matter. We all start from a seed, and, if we’re lucky, it grows into a fine, tall, sturdy tree.
Sometimes the seed splits and doubles and all you have to show for your progress is a couple of bushy, out-of-control bursts of color.
Other times, though ….
I don’t know whether I’ll try to get this one published or not. There’s always an e-book or whatever if I just can’t stand not having the world hear about Paris.
But more importantly, I have a finished creative product in my hands.
Something that came completely from my head.
Something that turned this way and that until it became a beautiful vase on the potter’s wheel. A landscape painting of immeasurable beauty. A song that gives you goose bumps every time you hear it. A movie that makes your heart burst out of your chest because it’s so poignant.
It’s like birthing a baby. You don’t know what it will become, but your life has become richer for it.
Keep your creativity going. Don’t stop. Not if you really want to feel free.
Tohukiro Kawai is a Japanese surrealist contemporary artist who’s best known for his regal cat paintings.
Unique and whimsical, the paintings of royal cats look both majestic and kingly while at the same time putting a smile on the spectator’s face.
By drawing inspiration from the Renaissance style of painterly technique, Kawai delivers a unique visual style full of myths, legends, and fantasies.
Kawai wants to work on the fragile bond between story and picture to bring the two into reunion.
Since gods and faith are less related to our modern society, Kawai “complements the theme with his own imagination,” the artist’s official page reads.
Kawai’s paintings are always illustrations without chapters with classical technique portraying stories of modern lives.
More of Tohukiro Kawai‘s whimsical paintings can be found at http://www5.plala.or.jp/kawaitokuhiro/Top.html.
Could it only have been December of 2014 that I introduced the world of Crowns to my friends and followers? One stone on one crown on one head could pay for your house. Two stones would allow you to fly around the world. Let’s go play in the imagination and see what royalty would bring us!
A lot more Imperial Crowns can be found over at the Gallery. Come on over and try a few on!
Last night I watched the play Hamilton on the Disney Channel. I have wanted to see this production since it came out four years ago, but never made it to a theater near me.
There is something about live performances that is nothing like a movie or a video or a string of pictures. It’s something fresh and raw. You share the energy directly with the actors; you don’t have an editor cutting out mistakes or miscues like in the movie world. You are right there with every breath they take. Every tear they hide.
This performance was amazing.
That is the first word that comes to mind when I think of the performance.
Amazing.
What is more amazing is that Lin-Manuel Mandala did it all. The music, the lyrics, the dialogue.
Every now and then you come across someone who is classified as a genius in their special field. Newton. Einstein. Currie. Plato. Aristotle. People who were able to think “out of the box.” So much so that they are the best of the best in their field.
I cannot judge if Lin-Manuel is in the same category as Einstein, but his creativity provided two hours of magic. Rapping, dialogue, story line, music — a magical explosion of creativity.
We are all genuises in our own way. Every time you create some sort of art you are expanding and changing reality to fit your own personal vision. Sometimes, if you are lucky enough, you pop through the ceiling and find a way to share your talent with the world on a massive scale. Lin-Manuel certainly did.
But if you can’t pop through that almost impermeable ceiling, should you just give up and go back to your day job?
What if your creativity is your day job?
What I have seen, through all my years, all my desires and dreams, is that you just have to keep being you. You have to push yourself, both creatively and socially. You want to get more people to view your work — work on it. Want to move forward on the tract of notoriety? Work on it.
Fame doesn’t just walk in the door and say “let’s go.” It may knock and run, pass your door completely, or say “I’ll be back later.” You have to work hard no matter what comes your way. Work hard to improve, to diversify, to perfect your craft.
And enjoy what you do every day you do it.
It took Lin-Manuel Mandala seven years to write Hamilton. He worked hard, created hard. He crossed the barrier from creative sprite to genius. Maybe you can, maybe you can’t. But never give up. Give your art all you have.
Einstein will be proud.
Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit. ~Anton Chekhov
I have noticed that the number of followers for my blog has been slowly increasing lately, and for that I am soooo grateful. It means so much to me that you are either enjoying my BoHo Chic Old Lady offerings, my newly discovered Faerie Paths, or my love of discovery of unique art.
And I’ve been thinking. I would bet that more than a few of you are artistically inclined. The spectrum of creativity is far and wide. And I’d love to know about it. About YOU.
I’ve gone on about others’ creativity for years. I have made friends with poets, painters, fabric artists, and potters. I’ve shared their art and websites to encourage my readers to explore further the gifts we all are given.
If you are developing an artistic talent, why not let me know? You don’t have to be first in your field to talk about your creative direction — just someone who loves what they do.
Send me an email at writing.unicorn@gmail.com and tell me about your art. Do you have a website? Do you have pictures of your work? Are you trying to learn a particular skill? Have questions? You can also answer this post and I can go through it and put something together.
True artists get excited about other artists. Help promote each other. Encourage each other.
Let me share a little bit about you!
Benjamin Sack is an American artist who received his BFA from Virginia Commonwealth University in 2011.
Sack’s work explores architecture as a flexible medium capable of expressing the unique space between realism and abstraction; where interpretation and our ability to create meaning is in flux.
Sack draws a majority of his inspiration from art history and classical music.
By combining these interests, Sack’s works become symphonies of ink.
Skyscrapers, bridges, cupolas, and arches all packed densely together create a city that could hardly be navigated, but when viewed from above result in a sort of chaotic perfection.
His work invites the eye to explore drawings of the “big picture,” to gaze into a kaleidoscope of histories and to look further into the elemental world of lines and dots.
More of Benjamin Sack‘s intricate work can be found at https://www.bensackart.com.
Back in February of 2015 I had a blast creating a Sunday Evening Art Gallery about Wine Glasses. Sometimes it was hard to determine what was a wine glass and what was a goblet and what was a chalice, but, hey — to drink out of these is to take a drink on the wild side!
You can find a lot more fun wine glasses in the Gallery! Have fun!
The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself. ― Friedrich Nietzsche
It is a wonderfully warm-to-hot Monday here in the Midwest. The butterflies, although fewer in number this year, still come and check out the flowers on my deck, and at night the faerie fireflies tantalize me with hints of their world just beyond my sight.
My sinuses have been rearing their nasty heads lately — I don’t know if it is allergies or sinusitis or just plain old lady sinuses. But they do make concentrating for any serious amount of time laborious.
It’s the kind of day to sneak in visits to the shaded part of the porch just to enjoy the breeze that tickles your hair and tinkles the windchimes.
If I were a sketcher it might be a perfect time to sketch the black and white butterfly who likes to alight on the white plastic rocker, or the indigo bunting who finds breakfast in the bird feeder.
If I were a painter I would highlight the multi colors of a potted zinnia or the bright pink geraniums that punctuate the lines of the deck, or the different hues of the variety of trees that line the yard.
If I were a potter I would mimic the textures of the leaves and the stones in the driveway and the webbing of the chairs and the beading of the macrame plant hanger in my next creation. My work would reflect the color of the sandy soil, the clay pots, or the weather-worn wood that surrounds my house.
If I were a song writer I would use the staccatos of the birds singing and the notes that accompany their song to create a new and fresh summer melody. I would include the tones of children’s laughter in the distance and the pitch of the dogs’ howls and the sound of the wind blowing through the pine trees.
If I were wood carver I would create wonderful pieces made from fallen trees in the woods. And if I were a creative artist I would combine the rocks from the driveway and the sand from the grandkids’ sandbox and make the most lovely rock gardens and if I were a gardener I would create amazing flower and vegetable gardens that would make the specialty grower jealous.
But I am none of these.
I am merely an average writer who is suffering from sinus pressure and a momentary lapse of inspiration.
Aren’t we all that at one time or another?
A child of Oklahoma, Shirley Quaid has lived in numerous states as an adult, but the trail always led back to home, Oklahoma.
Her early upbringing on her grandfather’s farm in her formative years had a great influence on her work.
Shirley began painting after her children were raised and had her first studio in the back of her husband’s offices in Wewoka, Oklahoma.
Her childhood fascination with all things in the 1880’s fueled her eventual concentration on Western Art.
She is fascinated with the spirit of living beings, both human and not, and is happily surprised and delighted when she can reveal their life’s light in her work.
Rural Oklahoma called her back in 2016 where she can be found on a daily basis in her studio happily painting images of the people of the American frontier in a representation style.
More of Shirley Quaid’s amazing work can be found at https://www.shirleyquaid.com/
This artist’s work never ceases to amaze me! Be sure to go take a look!
Dogs are our link to paradise. They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring — it was peace. ~ Milan Kundera
I’ve been having the most marvelous time these past few weeks writing my novel.
Now, hopefully we all have times of pleasure pursuing our creative endeavors. Otherwise, why would we bother?
But I had to chuckle. Not long ago I was writing blogs about fearing research (Research Overload) and overthinking and overwhelming (Am I/I Am Overthinking?).
These were, and ARE, legitimate concerns for most of us any time we think about taking on a project larger than ourselves. And we should be cautious. We should give thought about exactly what we want to accomplish and how we will get there.
But once we push through all the intimidation, apprehension, and false starts, once we start moving forward on creating our dream work, we find that we can really enjoy the ride.
I found that I didn’t need to fill in the days and nights ahead of time. I didn’t need to have every encounter outlined, every reaction accounted for. That I could follow a general direction and fill it in one research day at a time.
Did I worry myself into an early grave? Hardly. But at the beginning it felt like it.
At the beginning I couldn’t see how I could possibly create a life-like situation from a non-life situation. How I could be the participant in an adventure I never went on.
Then I started to write.
An introduction. A general feeling. A general direction. I loved to write, so I knew I wouldn’t let my inability to research or function stop me. I researched every place, every reference, every food. I thought about how I would react if I were really to see and do the things my lead character does.
And it became easier.
Your projects will become easier, too.
Sometimes you do need an exact outline, an exact layout, of whatever it is you wish to create. You can’t willy nilly a landscape painting without wondering about the trees, the houses, the season. Same is true for the design of a mosaic or a mural.
Once you get that general feeling, that general outline, in your head, you can start creating. You can go wild, stay straight, or take a quick left turn, if that’s what your muse tells you to do.
You can break the rules once you know what the rules are.
I still have quite a few things to work out, including the big last night climax. I haven’t a clue yet as to who it is with or what it is or what they will talk about. But I know it will come.
Here’s to each and every one of you having a blast with your creations. Hard work pays off, if only in the heart, often in ways you cannot imagine.
And there is nothing greater than a payoff from the heart.
I was going to write about some weird dreams I’ve been having lately, but when going through my blog topics I came across this one. I’d rather share what other people think about dreams….October is for Dreams
With the growth of social media, people are throwing out inspirational and tell-tale quotes left and right. So in honor of October, the month of Dreams, I have gathered some wonderful ditties you can post away whenever you are in need of something deep, warm, and mystical to say……..
Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world. ~ Oscar Wilde
I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now? ~ John Lennon
It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream. ~ Edgar Alan Poe
All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake up in the day to find it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible. ~ T.E. Lawrence
A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars. ~ Victor Hugo
I’ve dreamed a lot. I’m tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything. ~ Fernando Pessoa
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe
All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together. ~ Jack Kerouac
The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened. ~ James Arthur Baldwin
All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own. ~ Plutarch
Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy. ~ Sigmund Freud
Dreaming is an act of pure imagination, attesting in all men a creative power, which if it were available in waking, would make every man a Dante or Shakespeare. ~ H.F. Hedge
Dreams are more real than reality itself, they’re closer to the self. ~ Gao Xingjian
In sleep, fantasy takes the form of dreams. But in waking life, too, we continue to dream beneath the threshold of consciousness, especially when under the influence of repressed or other unconscious complexes. ~ Carl Jung
Dreams are illustrations… from the book your soul is writing about you. ~ Marsha Norman
A dream is a microscope through which we look at the hidden occurrences in our soul. ~ Erich Fromm
Dreams are the most curious asides and soliloquies of the soul. When a man recollects his dream, it is like meeting the ghost of himself. Dreams often surprise us into the strangest self-knowledge…. Dreaming is the truest confessional, and often the sharpest penance. ~ Alexander Smith
The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.” ~ Haruki Murakami
You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting. ~ J.M. Barrie
I was born to catch dragons in their dens
And pick flowers
To tell tales and laugh away the morning
To drift and dream like a lazy stream
And walk barefoot across sunshine days. ~ James Kavanaugh
Amy Giacomelli started her career in art in 1988 by joining the Entertainment Industry union as a mural artist.
Over the years she has painted countless murals and backdrops for studios such as Disney, CBS and Warner Bros., as well as lots of independent shops.
Her colorful gallery includes cats, birds, flowers, dogs, landscapes, and other subjects that burst with color and imagination.
For Amy, color is at the core of her style.
She does a fabulous job of conveying emotion and movement through vibrant shades, well mixed to create bright and beautiful pieces.
Often depicting nature, her work draws inspiration from real life, while translating it into more abstract expression..
With a background in painting murals, it should be no surprise that Amy enjoys large pieces, sometimes broken up into multi panel works..
More of Amy Giacomelli’s work can be found at https://amy-giacomelli.pixels.com/ and https://www.etsy.com/shop/AmyGiacomelli.
Saturday morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young, the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom, and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air.
~Mark Twain
I realized the other day that I haven’t shared any gifs lately… gifs for you to enjoy, for you to download, or for you to ask “how do they DO that??” Sometimes I use them for blogs — other times I just sit and watch them move.
Although there are millions of gifs all over the Internet, I thought I’d share a few that I found truly unique. A hot June day is the perfect time to share the mesmerizing and delightful world of Graphics Interchange Formats — gifs.
You can find more fun gifs on my past posts:
Thursday Evening on the Veranda (with a sweater) – gifs
Alexandra Spyratos was born in Kenya where she lives most of her life surrounded by the exotic beauty and wilderness of Africa.
Influenced by her colorful background, translating the heat and the exotic beauty of the African wildlife to canvas has become Spyratos’ passion and spiritual goal.
This prolific artist has become known for her bold and individual style.
Her paintings are rich and textured with oxidized patterned gold and copper leaf, recreating the physicality and textures of the wild that inspires her.
Her medium sees a diverse direction evolving into the elegance and glamour of gold, silver and copper leaf combines with the fluorescence.
The combination is dynamic and adds a fresh and energetic dimension to her art, aptly termed as “Bohemian Chic”.
Alexandra’s artistic presentation of the elephant, ostrich, buffalo, giraffe and predominantly the regal zebra, swirls about and leaps to her palette in representational form.
It is this deep inspiration from the heart of Africa that has emerged in Alexandra’s painting of the wildlife and has evolved into a style that straddles all genre and is uniquely her own.
More of Alexandra Spyratos can be found at www.facebook.com/alexandraartart/.
The same could be said for painters, graphic artists, sculptors, musicians, quilters, calligraphers . . .
I thank you for visiting me and the Goddess this week while I was on vacation with my family up nort’. Again. It is just a wonderful reprise to the daily grind of politics, viruses, hoarder houses, and such.
Even though these weekends are stressful as far as running around with three kids and three dogs, they are fulfilling. At least until my energy runs out. What these getaways also do is refocus my being to things that really matter in life.
But then you come home, kids go one way, you another. And there you are. Vibrating on the sofa, re-circling, refocusing, recharging and open like a toddler.
And you think — what now?
Who wants to go back to washing and folding laundry and doing dishes and mowing the lawn and sitting at a desk answering phones all day?
Who needs it?
If I have learned anything from this C19 nightmare is that most of us need it in one form or another. Kids need to get out of the house and go to school and see friends and stress over math assignments. Moms and dads need to get out of the house and go back to the office and deal with know-it-alls and office gossip and sales goals. Even retired grannies need to get out of the house and join community organizations that help people in one way or another and meet friends for coffee and get back to quilting or writing or whatever they do.
Sitting in the house day after day with nothing but the TV and radio is not good for the creative spirit.
I have written some of my best stories based on people I’ve worked with, places I’ve driven, conversations I’ve either overheard or had myself. The green trees and grass and wild fields around my house are beautiful, but after a while they lose their stimulation ability.
We need to be curious outside our parentheses. We can’t hide from the world and get settled in and do nothing. The world will keep changing but you will not. And one day visitors won’t be able to distinguish you from the beige flowered couch you sit upon.
After a while without people and places and things you find yourself with nothing to talk about. Grandkids can only tell you so many times about the fish that got away or how many hot dogs they ate one day. You can only talk about the old days so much before you finally become boring.
Without outside connections, without outside interactions, you really can turn into a slug. Even if you’re surrounded by grandkids and dogs.
If they aren’t stimulated by something new, neither will you be. If you can’t get out there and bring new and interesting things into their world they will turn out to be 8am-8pm internet slugs…. and so will you.
So, as much as I loved my time away, I am very happy to be back in my up and down world of the mind. I have projects to finish, projects to plan, projects to give up. And it’s only Monday!
Get on up and out today!
Canadian makeup artist Andrea Reed has been busy transforming her lips into colorful and spectacular works of art and it hasn’t gone unnoticed.
Going by the online name of Girl Grey Beauty, Reed has earned herself more than 100,000 followers on Instagram for her lip transformations than can range from Tartan patterns to classical artworks.
Andrea’s feed, which has 900 photos of her lips covered in complex images, were all drawn (and designed) by her, using liquid lipsticks, liquid eyeliners, and a ton of skinny brushes.
“I like to use tiny painting brushes from the art store to create each look,” Andrea shares.
If that sounds impossibly time-consuming, Andrea assures that it most definitely is.
“The application alone takes around one-to-two hours, depending on the difficulty and detail level of the lip art,” she says, adding that the entire process (from conception to retouching and editing) can take up to six hours.
Her work is whimsical and spectacular. A bit of fun with a lot of talent.
More of Andrea Reed’s amazing beauty work can be found at https://www.instagram.com/girlgreybeauty/ and https://www.facebook.com/girlgreybeauty/.
This is the day
To dream
To sit in the middle
of the grey sky
And watch the mist
swirl by.
Take the day
And embrace
the nothingness.
No rules.
No goals.
True inspiration
A glass that’s never full.
The fog rolls in
At its own pace
Not asking, not caring
What rules are broken
What direction
It should take
Sleepy distraction
The soul whispers
Today is the day
Words to a forgotten story
A glimmer of days passed
And future hopes
Subtle strings coax
Music from the soul
And just for the moment
You are there.
In the future
And the past.
MlmI’m certain we all know of people who have “big heads” — those who think they know more than they really do. But I had fun back in December 2014 sharing with you artists’ versions of the big head.
More Giant Heads can be found in the Gallery at https://wp.me/p5LGaO-3E.
Mark Messersmith (1955-) was born in Kansas City, Missouri lives and works in Tallahassee, Florida where he teaches at Florida State University.
The artist extends beyond the frame of his central images surveying man’s ruin. He also includes a small frieze of vignettes at the bottom and sculptural adornments at the frame’s edge.
His work explores themes of spirit and struggle within the modern world’s natural environments.
Messersmith likes to focus on the habitats of Florida’s animals in the way they live and react to one another.
In his words, “My work is really about our relationship to all other living creatures at this precarious moment, a place midway between hope and despair.”
His works reflect plants and animals, which are still able to survive, often in small isolated natural habitats, and the effects of their inevitable forced migration, dislocation, or isolation.
His works build on stories (either real or conjectured), along with observations and concerns for the creatures that move within the shrinking environs they inhabit.
More of Mark Messersmith‘s inspirational work can be found at https://markmessersmith.com.
Today was a step into the Twilight Zone. Between being spacey from pain meds for my dental work yesterday to trying to finish up cleaning a house in another city to driving to the DNV to find it closed two days in a row, I have been feeling quite disjointed.
Then today happened.
Walking into the police department (where the DNV was), a van was honking at me. I ignored it and went inside. Closed. Came back outside and the van was pulled into the parking lot across the street. I pulled my car out of the parking spot and noticed the man from that van heading towards me.
There was nobody else around. This middle-aged, balding man with a mask was walking towards my car.
I, in my infinite wisdom, thought, “Oh no. Here comes a terrorist coming to kill me.”
“Did you honk at me?” I asked. Flight or fight. Flight or fight. I am too chicken to fight, too self-conscious to drive away. The man came up to my car. My window was wide open (I have no A/C in this car.)
“Can you help me please? I cannot find this place,” he said in a heavy foreign accent. More terrorist feed, like tempting a kid with candy before snatching them up and disappearing.
I put my car into park. He held out his phone to me. On it was a picture of a business card of a financial
something-or-other. The address was one I wasn’t familiar with. I should have said sorry, no, and took off.
But instead I said, “I’m from a different town. But let me check my GPS on my phone and see where this is.” So I did just that.
Turns out he was just on the wrong side of Main Street. “It’s over next to the library,” I offered.
“You know where that is?” he asked. I nodded. “Then will you take me there? Please?”
So now what do I do? What do you think I did?
“Sure,” I said.
This man thanked me and blessed me and blessed my family. He wished me long life and blessings. He followed my car down the street, across Main Street, and, turning in from of the library, I pulled over, pointing him to the building across the street. He thanked me and blessed me and blessed my family again. I blessed him too.
And I felt like such a heel.
I hate that knee-jerk reaction when someone different than you talks/looks/approaches you. It’s a generational thing, to be sure. From our parents to us, racial discrimination and judgment is real. We don’t necessarily feel that prejudice, but somewhere in our past we’ve been exposed to it and our automatic flight or fight instinct turns on. And the news and social media and events of the past few days hasn’t helped.
I was ashamed I was afraid of this man. Yes, people do get murdered or attacked in small towns everywhere. But the actual percentage of it being you is so small that the odds of someone attacking you in particular are practically nill.
And it’s more important to help than to run. At least it is to me. I can’t be afraid of the whole world my whole life. What will be is what will be.
I am glad I helped the man find his building. I am glad he blessed me and my family. I blessed him and his family, too.
I wish the rest of the world could learn a lesson from this.
Laura Jade
Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.
~ Truman Capote, Summer Crossing
Beauty from my poetic friend….
We are ALL artists…..
. . . . .and our dream becomes a masterpiece of art.
How many times have you said, “Today is the day”?
Not like in “today is the day I catch a plane to Paris” or “today is the day I see the dentist.”
It’s more like “today is the day I’m going to change” or “today is the day I am going to exercise” or “today is the day I’m going to tackle my insomnia.”
I think more times than we care to admit.
Today I’m going to write. Today I’m going to eat healthier. Today I’m going to take a walk with the dog. Today … Today … Today.
And Today comes and goes and we haven’t done one thing to better ourselves.
I’m not sure why that is. Maybe we’re too busy. Maybe our attention is focused elsewhere. Maybe we are a little more depressed or tired or confused and don’t have the energy to pull off our Today.
I know I’ve said that phrase more times than I can remember. I can’t remember what I was changing, but Today was always going to be THE DAY.
I would sometimes get half-way through the promised land and get distracted. Or up and quit and say who cares. I would give up or plain forget about my life changing vow.
Maybe that’s just being human.
Maybe it’s more than that.
Once again I have started today with good intentions. I’m not conquering the world: I’m not climbing Mt. Everest or working at a hospital saving lives or driving to Chicago to stop the rioting.
I’m merely starting my journey today, one step at a time.
I need to regulate my sleeping. I need to stop drinking caffeine after noon or, better yet, not take it in at all. I need to make a point of walking more, even if it’s around the yard a couple of times. I need to stop shoveling in carbs every time I’m hungry.
You see — your journey isn’t really all that hard. Don’t try and change the world; don’t try and change you. Not all at once.
Hold the words “Today is the day” as if they were sacred whispers. Don’t make your goals bigger than you can handle in one day.
After all, today is only one day.
But it can always be THE day…..
Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959) was an architect and writer whose distinct style helped him became one of the biggest forces in American architecture.
Wright started his own firm and developed a style known as the “Prairie School”, which strove for an “organic architecture” in designs for homes and commercial buildings.
These were single-story homes with low, pitched roofs and long rows of casement windows, employing only locally available materials and wood that was always unstained and unpainted, emphasizing its natural beauty.
Wright believed in designing structures that were in harmony with humanity and its environment, a philosophy he called organic architecture.
As a founder of organic architecture, Wright played a key role in the architectural movements of the twentieth century, influencing three generations of architects worldwide through his works.
Wright designed original and innovative offices, churches, schools, skyscrapers, hotels, museums, and other structures. He often designed interior elements for these buildings, as well, including furniture and stained glass.
Considered one of the most radical architects in history, Wright used revolutionary building technologies and materials and experimented with using the natural landscape as part of his designs.
Wright was a great originator and a highly productive architect. He designed some 800 buildings, of which 380 were actually built and a number are still standing.
You can find out more about Frank Lloyd Wright at https://franklloydwright.org.
The Cosmos is all that is or was or ever will be. Our feeblest contemplations of the Cosmos stir us — there is a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice, a faint sensation, as if a distant memory, of falling from a height. We know we are approaching the greatest of mysteries. ―
I just finished watching the 2019 movie Rocketman about the early days of writer/singer Elton John.
Everybody has heard of Elton John.
But not everybody knows the extent of his talent and his vision. I certainly didn’t.
I could (and still do) boogy around the living room to Crocodile Rock and Love Lies Bleeding in My Hands. I can get sappy with Candle In The Wind and twinkly romantic with Tiny Dancer.
The movie brought home just how many talented artists are out there in this big, wide world. Singers, dancers, lyricists, composers — the list is just as strong as painters, sculptors, and fabric artists. Just as much amazing talent. Just as much amazing dedication. Just as much sparkle as anyone who loves the Arts.
Watching movie Elton John play the piano as a child brought me back to my own childhood piano lessons. I was barely a blink in the eye of the piano world. Not even a full blink.
The real Elton was a child prodigy, teaching himself how to play the piano when he was only four years old. He won a scholarship to the Royal Academy of Music in London. The rest is history.
I sometimes wonder if we pay as much attention to our children in the arts as much as we pay attention to them in math or economics. Talk always floats around about cutting funding for the Arts — it’s the first program to be cut in grade school and high school when funds run out, and not the first career parents encourage for their kids.
Things are probably a lot looser these days — but they are probably much harder, too. A lot more competition, a lot more talent. With social media and U-Tube and thousands more movies and concerts and recordings made per month than during the 70s, it’s hard to get by on talent alone.
That is why, when I see raw talent, whether young or old, domestic or foreign, I zoom in on it. Feel it. Explore it. Share it. Even if it’s only in passing, I find pleasure in those whose talents are fresh and raw and evolving and turning and growing.
Elton John had growing pains, too. Drugs, alcohol, dealing with his sexuality, his family — all played a role in honing his talent and legacy. Turning pain into perfection often works on many levels.
But we don’t have to always hit bottom before we hit the top — sometimes a developing artist has a fairly stable life.
That’s why, no matter what you have gone through, that part of your life is over. You can learn from it, reflect on it, then let it go. You take the beauty of who you are today, and let that guide you through whatever form of art calls you.
You may not be as flamboyant and successful as Elton John, but you are every bit as imaginative. You and your art are powerful expressions of your growth and understanding of yourself and the world around you.
You know I’m still standing better than I ever did
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid….. ~Elton John
I am always in awe and respect of other artists’ works. So many are so good at what they do — I love sharing their talent.
So for this Tuesday blog I’d like to share the recent creativity of Laura Kate from Daily Fiber and her fiber and fabric work. It’s just amazing.
It’s been a while since I shared the turtle in the pond fiber object. As a reminder, it was inspired by a photo taken by Bill on a recent camping trip at Lake Montgomery.
I loved the light, the colors and the texture of this image. I knew right away that I want to create my own version in fabric……….
Please click on over to her website and see how creates a great piece of art from this photo!
https://dailyfiberfun.wordpress.com/2020/05/26/return-to-lake-montgomery/
Humoring the Goddess 