Arctic Tundra. For a larger version and print, please click the image.
Because I needed to paint something cold now that it’s above 110°F. Whew!
The snow is sparkling like a million little suns. — Lama Willa Miller
Many of you know that I’m fond of poetry, as many of you are poets. I figured it was about time to share a favorite poem or two. And so:
The Candle a Saint by Wallace Stevens
Green is the night, green kindled and apparelled.
It is she that walks among astronomers.
She strides above the rabbit and the cat,
Like a noble figure, out of the sky,
Moving among the sleepers, the men,
Those that lie chanting green is the night.
Green is the night and out of madness woven,
The self-same madness of the astronomers
And of him that sees, beyond the astronomers,
The topaz rabbit and the emerald cat,
That sees above them, that sees rise up above them,
The noble figure, the essential shadow,
Moving and being, the image at its source,
The abstract, the archaic queen. Green is the night.
For me, this poem evokes darkness and stars, candlelight and souls, and perhaps even goddesses among scientists. :)
Crossover. Created with Adobe Photoshop and Corel Painter.
For a larger version and print, please click the image.
An alien skyscape abstract, enhanced by listening to by E.S. Posthumus’s fantastic Lepcis Magna while painting.
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky. — Rabindranath Tagore
Starry Flag Unfurled. Created with Adobe Photoshop and Corel Painter.
For a larger version and print, please click the image.
Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americans! It’s a little bit early, since I expect to be busy tomorrow, both with celebrations for the 4th and two great World Cup games. Have a fun weekend, no matter where you live!
Our greatest happiness does not depend on the condition of life in which chance has placed us, but is always the result of a good conscience, good health, occupation and freedom in all just pursuits. — Thomas Jefferson
Rumpled Roses. Created with Adobe Photoshop and Corel Painter.
For a larger version and print, please click the image.
One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon—instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows today.
— Dale Carnegie
Years ago, my parents did paintings on drop ceiling panels—the kind you see in offices. They’d piece the panels together to make one abstract artwork and then frame the whole thing. I decided to try that digitally and here are the results of that experiment! Had a lot of fun doing it and will make others in more common sizes so the details can be better seen online.
Estuary. Created with Corel Painter.
For a print, please click the image.
Little drops of water, little grains of sand, make the mighty ocean, and the pleasant land. So the little minutes, humble though they be, make the mighty ages of eternity. — Julia Carney
It’s been a while since I’ve done a dream post, but I visited an interesting place in my dreams the other night and wanted to make some artwork to remember it.
Much like my last dream post location, I’m pretty sure I was on another planet.
David and I were staying at a beachside resort at the base of a snowy mountain range. I don’t think the landscape was actually shades of red and orange as much as the atmosphere—and, like the last dream, twin suns—cast it to appear that way… but it was eerie and warm and incredibly strange.
So, where have you visited in your dreams lately?
Sunrise at Summit Beach. Created with Corel Painter and Adobe Photoshop.
All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together.
— Jack Kerouac
The other morning, I was watching Antiques Roadshow and someone had brought in a poster by Andy Warhol. I hadn’t thought about Warhol since the last Men in Black movie—where Andy Warhol turns out to really be an undercover MIB Agent (not much of a spoiler, I promise). So…
After coffee, I went upstairs and made changes to the portrait experiment I was working on. And the image with this post is what I did.
I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I kinda look like this in the mirror every morning, coffee or no. Fatigue is like a bad trip. Now that I’ve exorcised the sleepless eyes onto the canvas, maybe I can get forty decent winks.
Not being able to sleep is terrible. You have the misery of having partied all night… without the satisfaction. — Lynn Johnston
Fantastic. Beautiful. Living digital art.
I’d love a wall of my house to be like this.
What do you think of it?
I’ve never done a prompt before, but since I’m crazy for psychedelic art and have been experimenting with digital watercolor, this prompt really appealed to me. Thanks to Jackie at Lostinthot for leading me to the prompts blog.
Created with Corel Painter and Adobe Photoshop. I did this one for fun and not for sale, but please click through the image to see my other artwork. Thanks!
Coral – Digital block print. Created with Corel Painter and Adobe Photoshop.
The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.
— Vincent Van Gogh
Speaking of sea…
Just returned from tagging along on David’s business trip to North Carolina, where I got to see Natania again. Only a day together, but there was talking and and wine and food and games—so even a day was enough.
I’m grateful for the internet, but I wish I could see friends in person more often.
On the return flight, I had the honor of beginning to read her draft of Watcher of the Skies, whose narrator happens to be Poseidon. So: sea. Water and wonder. Life and depth and flow. It’s already one of those books I love to get lost in.
Sweetest melodies are those that are by distance made more sweet.
— William Wordsworth
This is the first time I’ve shared a video, but this one really moved me.
Beautiful and poignant. Spirit and the ocean. Humanity.
It doesn’t matter how big your house is or how fast your car is. It’s how willing you are to open your heart to another human being. Period. — Carlos Eyles
As society enters a new era of awareness towards environmentalism on land, very much is still unknown about the sustainability of the one body that encompasses over 70% of earth: our oceans. “Still” dives into the life of Carlos Eyles, an author, free diver, and ocean photographer. Through Carlos, we are able to understand the indefinite spiritual connection between the ocean and humankind.
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
— William Shakespeare [As You Like It: Act II, Scene 1.]
I’ve never been much of a “girly” girl. At least not on the outside; I wear tees and jeans and like to do “guy” things like watch teams sports, obsess over cars and boats, and enjoy a pub atmosphere. True, I have a few “girly” collections: I collect nail polish… but then, I also like to build models, and enamel is enamel, after all (yes, I have used nail polish on a model car).
But lately, with increased stress in my life, I’ve found myself seeking classic “girly” obsessions to ease my emotions.
Namely: shoes and makeup. Yep, the old standbys.
Not that I’ll necessarily buy the stuff. But I went out alone (OMG ALONE) yesterday for the first time in three weeks. And what did I do?
I tried on piles of fancy shoes.
I let the makeup store ladies put eyeshadow on me.
I didn’t buy any shoes (because I don’t need any, as Natania got me a Zappos gift certificate for my birthday). But I did buy the eyeshadow.
Now, to go watch some shark wrestling and shake off the lace.
Image from stock by jdurham.
I had a dream last night where I saw the embodiment of ideas. My ideas, your ideas, or maybe all the ideas of Earth or the universe. Not really sure. But I got the vibe that ALL THE IDEAS was what I was looking at. And so, here goes:
It started out like a spirit guide, only a spark that I followed in darkness. It didn’t speak to me. Instead, it circled like a firefly—tiny and glowing. It had no true form and was made up of the elements. Fire, water, air, and even scattering bits of earth. It soon grew so that I could see its details better. Like a tiny galaxy, floating around the blackness where I stood.
Quickly—BAM—it expanded and surrounded me. Then it took me inside it and enveloped me so that I became part of it. I couldn’t see my hands or be sure that I still had a body. All I had was an intense warmth and the sensation of water washing over me, air I knew I was consciously breathing, and the view of what looked like a million little worlds before me.
Very super cool. I mean, I was a speck among specks, but it was awesome.
Now that I’m awake and back to reality, I’m left with a sense that we’re all so small and yet so powerful. Dreams like that drive me to not waste a moment of life.
Although I did take some time to create what I saw so that you could see it too.
Do you ever have dreams that stay with you and inspire you?
One more post about the Phoenix Art Museum. These images, also taken by my husband David, are of the Digital Print Fashion exhibition. Everything you see here is digitally printed textile, which allows for some fantastic color and pattern. With digital printing, the sources for fashion inspiration are without limits. Many of these designs inspired me to write, because they look like they’d be at home in a science fiction or fantasy novel—yet, I’d still wear a few of them out to a party this weekend if I could! Which ones catch your eye the most?
Butterflies. Swarms of them. Over the walls and ceilings.
So striking. I think the angles he used for these shots help convey what it’s like to be there yourself. I hope you enjoy David’s photography as much as I do.
This time last year [click here for last year's post], I shared my love for an installation at the Phoenix Art Museum. The work is called You Who Are Getting Obliterated in the Dancing Swarm of Fireflies by Yayoi Kusama.
We continue to be fascinated by this room of infinity lights.
It’s like being out there in space. As I said last year: it becomes complex and you become small. The specks of light in the depths of darkness… beautiful.
Yes, we still plan on having a room like this in our home someday.
In the meanwhile, we visit. This installation is one of the primary reasons we haunt the museum. This last trip, my husband took some photographs. Nothing said they weren’t allowed (sign outside of the entrance) and he tried it only when we had the room to ourselves, so we didn’t ruin the experience for others.
Here are two of those shots:
My hands, cradling a ‘firefly’ on a red-yellow cycle.
Might be a person—possibly myself—in the middle of this blue-green field.
On where the writing ‘magic’ comes from: a blog post from my dear friend Natania Barron.
Originally posted on Natania Barron:
Sure, sure. You make your own inspiration and all that. You sit, you write, you create. I get that. It’s 90% of the equation.
But what about those moments that are unplanned? I know I’m not the only writer out there that’s found profundity in hot showers or strains of music (in fact, most of the WIP fell into my brain during a shower). There seem to be situations where my brain is prone to wander unseen pathways, where I make connections in stories that, on normal writing days, just don’t seem to happen. No, I don’t believe in Muses, but there is some curious power in the workings of our brains when it comes to creating stories out of nothingness.
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Crazy long weekend. Family time. And a meeting of friends too: I had a lovely brunch with Faye. Talked about writing and life. We have a lot in common. We both take a similar approach to the day-to-day: that you have to grab life by the… well, whatever’s handy—and make the most of it. Especially creatively.
Never mind what others say about you or what your inner editor whines. The key to success is trusting the madness and embracing what makes you unique.
Reminded me of a favorite quote. One I needed to remember. And so, I ended up doing a little art therapy and the image heading this post was the result.
Also, while I’m at it: more about Allen Ginsberg here.