'cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
and you're heart starts to wonder where on this earth i could be
thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
and you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
so i'm not moving
i'm not moving ............
august........1993........i'm not moving..............
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
november 18...........
today is a bitter sweet day…………..lots of memories………..some bad………..some good………all in the past. It’s good to open yourself up to pain sometimes…………..it proves you’re still alive……..wasn’t so sure I was for a long....long..... time….but….i am…….i’m trying to let past hurts mold me into a better person……a stronger person……a kinder person…………i want to reach out and touch moonbeams…….feel the wind off the ocean on my face……witness the wonders of the world with a child’s curiosity……dance naked under the stars……….stand on the highest mountain and gaze out across the clouds……….feed my spirit and soul with all nature has to offer………and walk basked in love for myself….. because i matter…..i matter……..i am the brilliant light of ten thousand shooting stars…..soaring thru the night….making my way slowly to where i’m supposed to be……to the exact spot created just for me…….my destiny……..my place in the universe……..my home…………..
Sunday, November 15, 2009
blessed
i snapped this shot last night in the gloaming.........it just took my breath away. it was the perfect ending to a beautiful day. as i looked up i felt so small and insignificant.......but connected to something much greater than myself...........and.....again..........felt blessed.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
beyond words
A Secular Sermon - by Ben Okri
1
We began before words, and we will end beyond them.
It sometimes seems to me that our days are poisoned with too many words. Words said and not meant. Words said ‘and’ meant. Words divorced from feeling. Wounding words. Words that conceal. Words that reduce. Dead words.
If only words were a kind of fluid that collects in the ears, if only they turned into the visible chemical equivalent of their true value, an acid, or something curative – then we might be more careful. Words do collect in us anyway. They collect in the blood, in the soul, and either transform or poison people’s lives. Bitter or thoughtless words poured into the ears of the young have blighted many lives in advance. We all know people whose unhappy lives twist on a set of words uttered to them on a certain unforgotten day at school, in childhood, or at university.
We seem to think that words aren’t things. A bump on the head may pass away, but a cutting remark grows with the mind. But then it is possible that we know all too well the awesome power of words – which is why we use them with such deadly and accurate cruelty.
We are all wounded inside one way or other. We all carry unhappiness within us for some reason or other. Which is why we need a little gentleness and healing from one another. Healing in words, and healing beyond words. Like gestures. Warm gestures. Like friendship, which will always be a mystery. Like a smile, which someone described as the shortest distance between two people.
Yes, the highest things are beyond words.
That is probably why all art aspires to the condition of wordlessness. When literature works on you, it does so in silence, in your dreams, in your wordless moments. Good words enter you and become moods, become the quiet fabric of your being. Like music, like painting, literature too wants to transcend its primary condition and become something higher. Art wants to move into silence, into the emotional and spiritual conditions of the world. Statues become melodies, melodies become yearnings, yearnings become actions.
When things fall into words they usually descend. Words have an earthly gravity. But the best things in us are those that escape the gravity of our deaths. Art wants to pass into life, to lift it; art wants to enchant, to transform, to make life more meaningful or bearable in its own small and mysterious way. The greatest art was probably born from a profound and terrible silence – a silence out of which the greatest enigmas of our life cry: Why are we here? What is the point of it all? How can we know peace and live in joy? Why be born in order to die? Why this difficult one-way journey between the two mysteries?
Out of the wonder and agony of being come these cries and questions and the endless stream of words with which to order human life and quieten the human heart in the midst of our living and our distress.
The ages have been inundated with vast oceans of words. We have been virtually drowned in them. Words pour at us from every angle and corner. They have not brought understanding, or peace, or healing, or a sense of self-mastery, nor has the ocean of words given us the feeling that, at least in terms of tranquility, the human spirit is getting better.
At best our cry for meaning, for serenity, is answered by a greater silence, the silence that makes us seek higher reconciliation.
I think we need more of the wordless in our lives. We need more stillness, more of a sense of wonder, a feeling for the mystery of life. We need more love, more silence, more deep listening, more deep giving.
2
When the angels of the Bible spoke to human beings, did they speak in words? I don’t think so. I think the angels said nothing, but they were heard in the purest silence of the human spirit, and were understood beyond words.
On a more human scale there are many things beyond.
A mother watches her child leave home. Her heart is still. Her eyes are full of tears and prayer. That is beyond.
An old man with wrinkled hands is carrying his grandchild. With startled eyes the baby regards his grandfather. The old man, with the knowledge of Time’s sadness in his heart, and with love in his eyes, looks down at the child. The meeting of their eyes. That is beyond.
A famous writer, feeling his life coming to an end, writes these words: ‘My soul looks back and wonders – just how I got I got over.’
A young woman, standing on a shore, looks out into an immense azure sea rimmed with the silver line of the horizon. She looks out into the obscure heart of destiny, and is overwhelmed by a feeling both dark and oddly joyful. She may be thinking something like this: ‘My soul looks forward and wonders- just how am I to get across.’ That is beyond.
3
A flamenco dancer, lurking under a shadow, prepares of the terror of her dance. Somebody has wounded her with words, alluding to the fact that she has no fire, or ‘duende’. She knows she has to dance her way past her limitations, and that this may destroy her forever. She has to fail, or she has to die. I want to dwell for a little while on this dancer because, though a very secular example, she speaks very well for the power of human transcendence. I want you to imagine this frail woman. I want you to see her in deep shadow, and fear. When the music starts, she begins to dance, with ritual slowness. Then she stamps out the dampness from her soul. Then she stamps fire into her loins. She takes on a strange enchanted glow. With a dark tragic rage, shouting, she hurls her hungers, her doubts, her terrors, and her secular prayer for more light into the spaces around her. All fire and fate, she spins her enigma around us, and pulls into the awesome risk of her dance.
She is taking herself apart before our sceptical gaze.
She is disintegrating, shouting and stamping and dissolving the boundaries of her body. Soon, she becomes a wild unknown force, glowing in her death, dancing from her wound, dying in her dance.
And when she stops – strangely gigantic in her new fiery stature – she is like one who has survived the most dangerous journey of all. I can see her now as she stands shining in celebration of her own death. In the silence that follows, no one moves. The fact is that she has destroyed us all.
Why do I dwell on this dancer? I dwell on her because she represents for me the courage to go beyond ourselves. While she danced she became the dream of the freest and most creative people we had always wanted to be, in whatever it is we do. She was the sea we never ran away to, the spirit of wordless self-overcoming we never quite embrace. She destroyed us because we knew in our hearts that rarely do we rise to the higher challenges in our lives, or our work, or our humanity. She destroyed us because rarely do we love our tasks and our lives enough to die and thus be reborn into the divine gift of our hidden genius. We seldom try for that beautiful greatness brooding in the mystery of our blood.
You can say in her own way, and in that moment, that she too was a dancer to God.
That spirit of the leap into the unknown, that joyful giving of the self’s powers, that wisdom of going beyond in order to arrive here – that too is beyond words.
All art is a prayer for spiritual strength. If we could be pure dancers in spirit, we would never be afraid to love, and we would love with strength and wisdom. We would not be afraid of speech, and we would be serene with silence. We would learn to live beyond words, among the highest things. We wouldn’t need words. Our smile, our silences would be sufficient. Our creations and the beauty of our functions would be enough. Our giving would be our perpetual gift.
4
The greatest inspiration, the most sublime ideas of living that have come down to humanity come from a higher realm, a happier realm, a place of pure dreams, a heaven of blessed notions. Ideas and infinite possibilities dwell there in absolute tranquility.
Before these ideas came to us they were pure, they were silent, and their life-giving possibilities were splendid. But when they come to our earthly realm they acquire weight and words. They become less.
The sweetest notions, ideas of universal love and justice, love for one another, or intuitions of joyful creation, these are all perfect in their heavenly existences. Any artist will tell you that ideas are happier in the heaven of their conception than on the earth of their realization. We should return to pure contemplation, to sweet meditation, to the peace of silent loving, the serenity of deep faith, to the stillness of deep waters. We should sit still in our deep selves and dream good new things for humanity. We should try and make those dreams real. We should keep trying to raise higher the conditions and possibilities of this world. Then maybe one day, after much striving, we might well begin to create a world justice and a new light on this earth that could inspire a ten-second silence of wonder – even in heaven.
1
We began before words, and we will end beyond them.
It sometimes seems to me that our days are poisoned with too many words. Words said and not meant. Words said ‘and’ meant. Words divorced from feeling. Wounding words. Words that conceal. Words that reduce. Dead words.
If only words were a kind of fluid that collects in the ears, if only they turned into the visible chemical equivalent of their true value, an acid, or something curative – then we might be more careful. Words do collect in us anyway. They collect in the blood, in the soul, and either transform or poison people’s lives. Bitter or thoughtless words poured into the ears of the young have blighted many lives in advance. We all know people whose unhappy lives twist on a set of words uttered to them on a certain unforgotten day at school, in childhood, or at university.
We seem to think that words aren’t things. A bump on the head may pass away, but a cutting remark grows with the mind. But then it is possible that we know all too well the awesome power of words – which is why we use them with such deadly and accurate cruelty.
We are all wounded inside one way or other. We all carry unhappiness within us for some reason or other. Which is why we need a little gentleness and healing from one another. Healing in words, and healing beyond words. Like gestures. Warm gestures. Like friendship, which will always be a mystery. Like a smile, which someone described as the shortest distance between two people.
Yes, the highest things are beyond words.
That is probably why all art aspires to the condition of wordlessness. When literature works on you, it does so in silence, in your dreams, in your wordless moments. Good words enter you and become moods, become the quiet fabric of your being. Like music, like painting, literature too wants to transcend its primary condition and become something higher. Art wants to move into silence, into the emotional and spiritual conditions of the world. Statues become melodies, melodies become yearnings, yearnings become actions.
When things fall into words they usually descend. Words have an earthly gravity. But the best things in us are those that escape the gravity of our deaths. Art wants to pass into life, to lift it; art wants to enchant, to transform, to make life more meaningful or bearable in its own small and mysterious way. The greatest art was probably born from a profound and terrible silence – a silence out of which the greatest enigmas of our life cry: Why are we here? What is the point of it all? How can we know peace and live in joy? Why be born in order to die? Why this difficult one-way journey between the two mysteries?
Out of the wonder and agony of being come these cries and questions and the endless stream of words with which to order human life and quieten the human heart in the midst of our living and our distress.
The ages have been inundated with vast oceans of words. We have been virtually drowned in them. Words pour at us from every angle and corner. They have not brought understanding, or peace, or healing, or a sense of self-mastery, nor has the ocean of words given us the feeling that, at least in terms of tranquility, the human spirit is getting better.
At best our cry for meaning, for serenity, is answered by a greater silence, the silence that makes us seek higher reconciliation.
I think we need more of the wordless in our lives. We need more stillness, more of a sense of wonder, a feeling for the mystery of life. We need more love, more silence, more deep listening, more deep giving.
2
When the angels of the Bible spoke to human beings, did they speak in words? I don’t think so. I think the angels said nothing, but they were heard in the purest silence of the human spirit, and were understood beyond words.
On a more human scale there are many things beyond.
A mother watches her child leave home. Her heart is still. Her eyes are full of tears and prayer. That is beyond.
An old man with wrinkled hands is carrying his grandchild. With startled eyes the baby regards his grandfather. The old man, with the knowledge of Time’s sadness in his heart, and with love in his eyes, looks down at the child. The meeting of their eyes. That is beyond.
A famous writer, feeling his life coming to an end, writes these words: ‘My soul looks back and wonders – just how I got I got over.’
A young woman, standing on a shore, looks out into an immense azure sea rimmed with the silver line of the horizon. She looks out into the obscure heart of destiny, and is overwhelmed by a feeling both dark and oddly joyful. She may be thinking something like this: ‘My soul looks forward and wonders- just how am I to get across.’ That is beyond.
3
A flamenco dancer, lurking under a shadow, prepares of the terror of her dance. Somebody has wounded her with words, alluding to the fact that she has no fire, or ‘duende’. She knows she has to dance her way past her limitations, and that this may destroy her forever. She has to fail, or she has to die. I want to dwell for a little while on this dancer because, though a very secular example, she speaks very well for the power of human transcendence. I want you to imagine this frail woman. I want you to see her in deep shadow, and fear. When the music starts, she begins to dance, with ritual slowness. Then she stamps out the dampness from her soul. Then she stamps fire into her loins. She takes on a strange enchanted glow. With a dark tragic rage, shouting, she hurls her hungers, her doubts, her terrors, and her secular prayer for more light into the spaces around her. All fire and fate, she spins her enigma around us, and pulls into the awesome risk of her dance.
She is taking herself apart before our sceptical gaze.
She is disintegrating, shouting and stamping and dissolving the boundaries of her body. Soon, she becomes a wild unknown force, glowing in her death, dancing from her wound, dying in her dance.
And when she stops – strangely gigantic in her new fiery stature – she is like one who has survived the most dangerous journey of all. I can see her now as she stands shining in celebration of her own death. In the silence that follows, no one moves. The fact is that she has destroyed us all.
Why do I dwell on this dancer? I dwell on her because she represents for me the courage to go beyond ourselves. While she danced she became the dream of the freest and most creative people we had always wanted to be, in whatever it is we do. She was the sea we never ran away to, the spirit of wordless self-overcoming we never quite embrace. She destroyed us because we knew in our hearts that rarely do we rise to the higher challenges in our lives, or our work, or our humanity. She destroyed us because rarely do we love our tasks and our lives enough to die and thus be reborn into the divine gift of our hidden genius. We seldom try for that beautiful greatness brooding in the mystery of our blood.
You can say in her own way, and in that moment, that she too was a dancer to God.
That spirit of the leap into the unknown, that joyful giving of the self’s powers, that wisdom of going beyond in order to arrive here – that too is beyond words.
All art is a prayer for spiritual strength. If we could be pure dancers in spirit, we would never be afraid to love, and we would love with strength and wisdom. We would not be afraid of speech, and we would be serene with silence. We would learn to live beyond words, among the highest things. We wouldn’t need words. Our smile, our silences would be sufficient. Our creations and the beauty of our functions would be enough. Our giving would be our perpetual gift.
4
The greatest inspiration, the most sublime ideas of living that have come down to humanity come from a higher realm, a happier realm, a place of pure dreams, a heaven of blessed notions. Ideas and infinite possibilities dwell there in absolute tranquility.
Before these ideas came to us they were pure, they were silent, and their life-giving possibilities were splendid. But when they come to our earthly realm they acquire weight and words. They become less.
The sweetest notions, ideas of universal love and justice, love for one another, or intuitions of joyful creation, these are all perfect in their heavenly existences. Any artist will tell you that ideas are happier in the heaven of their conception than on the earth of their realization. We should return to pure contemplation, to sweet meditation, to the peace of silent loving, the serenity of deep faith, to the stillness of deep waters. We should sit still in our deep selves and dream good new things for humanity. We should try and make those dreams real. We should keep trying to raise higher the conditions and possibilities of this world. Then maybe one day, after much striving, we might well begin to create a world justice and a new light on this earth that could inspire a ten-second silence of wonder – even in heaven.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
happy
someone once told me
that you have to choose
what you win or lose
you can't have everything
don't you take chances
you might feel the pain
don't you love in vain
'cause love won't set you free
i can stand by the side
and watch this life pass me by
so unhappy
but safe as could be
so what if it hurts me?
so what if i break down?
so what if this world just throws me off the edge
my feet run outta ground
i gotta find my place
i wanna hear my sound
don't care about all the pain in front of me
'cause i'm just trying to be......happy
just wanna be happy, yeah
holding on tightly
just can't let it go
just trying to play my role
slowly disappear....oh
well all these tears
they feel like they're the same
just different faces
different names...
get me outta here
well i can stand by the side
and watch this life pass me by....
pass me by......
so what if it hurts me?
so what if i break down?
so what if this world just throws me off the edge
my feet run outta ground
i gotta find my place
i wanna hear my sound
don't care about all the pain in front of me
'cause i'm just trying to be...........happy
oh.....happy
to be....happy
.......oh
so any turns that i can't see
i'll count a stranger in this road
but don't say victim
don't say.....anything
so what if it hurts me?
so what if i break down?
so what if this world just throws me off the edge
my feet run outta ground
i gotta find my place
i wanna hear my sound
don't care about all this pain in front of me
i just wanna be........happy
happy.........oh
i just wanna be
i just wanna be
happy..........oh
happy
(leona lewis)
nature's gifts
experience is never limited,
and it is never complete,
it is an immense sensibility,
a kind of huge spider web
of the finest silken threads
suspended in the chamber of consciousness,
and catching
every air-borne particle
in it's tissue - henry james
we should all try
to experience life
as a small child
full of wonderment
and joy
in the gifts nature gives
to us
Thursday, November 5, 2009
mu
"one must forget oneself. it is like trying to see nature's reflection on the surface of a pond rippled by the wind; until the ripples subside, there is no clear reflection. in zen buddhism, to reach this point of no-self is call mu." - professor kinsaku nakane
Sunday, November 1, 2009
yugen
"yugen........tranquility, stillness of movement, the eternity within the transient......mystery and depth. yugen can be the thin cloud veiling the moon or the autumn mist wrapping the scarlet leaves on a mountainside.....or the reflection of a flower's color in a dew drop at dawn......." kathryn lasky
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
david gosling
david gosling............another environmental artist.......... uses his background in tapestry weaving to create willow and steel sculptures.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
hope
"to love is to risk not being loved in return. to hope is to risk pain. to try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing." - unk
Sunday, October 25, 2009
My BFF
ya know.....every now and then ......the stars line up just right .......and wonderful things happen. i just reconnected with my best friend during our teen years. as it turns out..........we've both been trying to track each other down over the years with no luck until i happened across her cousin on facebook. SCORE!
after a quick catch up session..... i'm amazed at how alike we've turned out to be.......gardeners, coffee enthusiast, wine lovers, bread bakers, junkers............oh..... i've missed you...... my twin sister from different mothers!
she's in virginia and i'm in south carolina....... but...... if i don't miss my guess....some day we'll hook up for a face to face reunion.... good for a kzillion belly laughs about our past antics.
judy.....judy.....judy..........wow........how great to hear from ya!
after a quick catch up session..... i'm amazed at how alike we've turned out to be.......gardeners, coffee enthusiast, wine lovers, bread bakers, junkers............oh..... i've missed you...... my twin sister from different mothers!
she's in virginia and i'm in south carolina....... but...... if i don't miss my guess....some day we'll hook up for a face to face reunion.... good for a kzillion belly laughs about our past antics.judy.....judy.....judy..........wow........how great to hear from ya!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
my star crossed lover
i remember you
my star crossed lover
from ancient times
until now
our hearts have always been linked
our souls born over and over again
seeking the other half
and only when we meet again
will the cosmic dust
of a million stars
rain down
in joyous celebration
they are one
they are one
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
the remains of the day
i had my daily walk in the gloaming …….soaking up the last vestige of summer……heartbreakingly beautiful today. the smell of newly mown grass ….and earth…..and leaves filled my head…. triggering memories of childhood ……simpler times..... with each step…the melting away of the days stress…..leaving behind a content….peaceful…heart.
returning home in the dark… i grab a much needed cup of coffee…. retreating to the porch where I am the grateful recipient of an amazing sonata of cricket song…… a sliver of moon hanging low in the sky……there is music in my head…..and in my heart……as i slowly rock to the beat of the cricket’s singing…..sipping coffee…..all’s well in my small part of the world………
returning home in the dark… i grab a much needed cup of coffee…. retreating to the porch where I am the grateful recipient of an amazing sonata of cricket song…… a sliver of moon hanging low in the sky……there is music in my head…..and in my heart……as i slowly rock to the beat of the cricket’s singing…..sipping coffee…..all’s well in my small part of the world………
in fall
the cricket
beneath the rosebush
watches
as the roses fall
to the very ground
that is his kingdom also.
so they're neighbors
one full of fragrance,
the other
the harper
of a single dry song.
we call this time of the year
the beginning of the end
of another circle,
a convenience
and nothing more.
for the cricket's song
is surely a prayer,
and a prayer, when it is given,
is given forever.
this is a truth
i'm sure of,
for i'm older than i used to be,
and therefore i understand things
nobody would think of
who's young and in a hurry.
the snow is very beautiful.
under it are the lingering
petals of fragrance,
and the timeless body
of prayer.
- mary oliver
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
god's beauty
a simple cotton boll.........it's texture.........it's shape........god's beauty abounds............
Saturday, October 17, 2009
the joys of porch sittin'
this is where i begin and end my day.......in the mornings the smell of that first cup of coffee mingles now with the damp smell of fall. i sit quietly and listen to the sounds of nature awakening.....letting them wash gently over me.....feeding my spirit. 
as i age i find great comfort in "porch sitting"........to just......be. i'm trying to break the habit of feeling i always need to be doing something......the dishes need washing.....the bathroom scrubbed......... all those things will still be there tomorrow.
and late at night.....after the comings and goings that make up my life..........i ease out here with a glass of wine and let the light of a thousand stars illuminate the path to an easier.....more gentle place.........and feel blessed................
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
it's that time.........
i'm enjoying the last of my zinnias................
it's getting to be that time of the year.........
i've started collecting seeds for next years flowers.........
they're all tucked in waiting for their winters sleep...................
these seeds don't need to be collected.......they're happy to return.....year after year.
i don't know about you but this gardener is ready for cool evenings.....sitting by the fire.....with a good book....... a great cup of coffee.....and dreams of next years garden...........
it's getting to be that time of the year.........
i've started collecting seeds for next years flowers.........
they're all tucked in waiting for their winters sleep...................
these seeds don't need to be collected.......they're happy to return.....year after year.
i don't know about you but this gardener is ready for cool evenings.....sitting by the fire.....with a good book....... a great cup of coffee.....and dreams of next years garden...........
Sunday, October 11, 2009
its the great pumpkin charlie brown
i made my annual trip to the local market for my pumpkins. it takes me forever to choose just the right ones.........i have to look at each one. perfection is never the goal....i look for the eccentricities.....picked out my pumpkins and gourds and hope to get my fall decorating done this week. 
i've got the week off and hope to spend a good bit of time in my studio. i'm overdue for some downtime...............every so often i need to get myself back to good.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
remembering.......
i remember having a neighborhood store like this as a child......it was called pucketts. they carried a little of everything.....there was a butcher in the back with meats and hoop cheeses, fresh vegetables, washing powder in boxes, and of course a whole assortment of penny candy. the old wooden floors cracked and popped, announcing your arrival as you entered and were greeted by name. 
everyone's family had charge accounts that were paid up weekly and my mother was forever sending us to pick up some little something and have it put on the account. i remember once having air put in my bike tires and asking "cotton" to charge it to our account.....i didn't know there was no charge for air!
a bottle of coke was five cents and when the price went up to six cents everyone vowed they wouldn't buy another one. we always poured a pack of peanuts in our cokes.
these old sidewall tires were seen on every "rag top".
an old washer was sitting beside this old store. i don't remember us having one of these but i saw them at other homes.
i do love the comforts of today but i miss living in the times when the world seemed a happier, kinder place.
everyone's family had charge accounts that were paid up weekly and my mother was forever sending us to pick up some little something and have it put on the account. i remember once having air put in my bike tires and asking "cotton" to charge it to our account.....i didn't know there was no charge for air!
a bottle of coke was five cents and when the price went up to six cents everyone vowed they wouldn't buy another one. we always poured a pack of peanuts in our cokes.these old sidewall tires were seen on every "rag top".
an old washer was sitting beside this old store. i don't remember us having one of these but i saw them at other homes.
i do love the comforts of today but i miss living in the times when the world seemed a happier, kinder place.
Monday, October 5, 2009
what big eyes you have
you're gonna put that thermometer where???
this is gonna be my blackmail picture of my newest grandson!
i can't wait to show it to his girlfriend.........
this is gonna be my blackmail picture of my newest grandson!i can't wait to show it to his girlfriend.........
Friday, October 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
the land artist
strijdom van der merwe, a self described "land artist" based in south africa, just blows me away with the simplicity of his art.
he works with sand, water, wood, and rocks to create geometrical forms whose
fragile beauty is documented with photographs before their transience.
this shot is wonderful on so many levels.....the shapes.....the lighting........
he works with sand, water, wood, and rocks to create geometrical forms whose
fragile beauty is documented with photographs before their transience.
this shot is wonderful on so many levels.....the shapes.....the lighting........
Friday, September 25, 2009
a wee halloween
how cute is this? these are pictures from last halloween posted on the wee garden blog.
oh!.................want! want! want! guess what i'm gonna be doing this weekend!
oh!.................want! want! want! guess what i'm gonna be doing this weekend!Wednesday, September 23, 2009
the seed shaman
"plants are a living tribe, an indigenous tribe. plants see life differently. they have different customs. they speak another language. my art is an attempt to translate their language so that the true story of the planet can be told. each seed, root or pod contains the earth’s history."....so says richard solomon.....the seed shaman.
he uses gathered plant materials to create stunning works of art.
"....i have found a secret that i would like to share with you: in my art, as in my life, i never meet a seed, tree or plant with a bad heart."
your work is amazing, mr. solomon.
he uses gathered plant materials to create stunning works of art.
"....i have found a secret that i would like to share with you: in my art, as in my life, i never meet a seed, tree or plant with a bad heart."
your work is amazing, mr. solomon.
Friday, September 18, 2009
more environmental art
new zealand artist chris booth makes amazing stone and earth sculptures that are a combination of balance, engineering, and sense of place.
this one reminds me of fern leaves.
this one reminds me of fern leaves.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
that you buffalo bill?
"When your mildly eccentric and rather earnest paramedic-studying boarder warns you to approach the washing line with caution chances are she's not kidding." 
from "a day in the life @ chez poppalina"
no............it's not something from "buffalo bill" in silence of the lambs..............just cpr masks!
this is just too funny! thanks for the laugh, poppalina!
from "a day in the life @ chez poppalina"
no............it's not something from "buffalo bill" in silence of the lambs..............just cpr masks!
this is just too funny! thanks for the laugh, poppalina!
Friday, September 11, 2009
monkey song girl
you gonna look like a monkey when you get old
you gonna look like a monkey when you get old
i can tell by your smell and the way you shake your tail
you gonna look like a money when you get old!
(what's this "when" business!)
ok.....monkey song girl........back at cha!
happy! happy! hope you like what's in this present!
you gonna look like a monkey when you get old
i can tell by your smell and the way you shake your tail
you gonna look like a money when you get old!
(what's this "when" business!)
ok.....monkey song girl........back at cha!happy! happy! hope you like what's in this present!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
u'v been mooned!
it's beginning to look a lot like fall around my neck of the woods. time to drag out the fall decorations and do a little pumpkin carving. i LOVE this time of the year! i 've been keeping an eye on our local pumpkin patch hoping to get first pick. don't ya just love how creative folks can be with their pumpkin displays?
i need this guy in my yard!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
a mosaic queen
i'm always drooling over the free people blog. i love their clothes and if i was DECADES younger i'd have a closet full of their clothes!
they also feature some great links. just look at this mosaiced bike by baileywho. there are close ups on her flickr page.
and this camera.............wouldn't this make a GREAT lamp base?
i don't know who you are.....baileywho......but you rock!
they also feature some great links. just look at this mosaiced bike by baileywho. there are close ups on her flickr page.
and this camera.............wouldn't this make a GREAT lamp base?
i don't know who you are.....baileywho......but you rock!
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