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There is a Crack ….

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Leonard Cohen is one of my favorite poets, although he calls himself a songwriter, his lyrics are poetry, much of it is political.  His song “Anthem” has been on my mind this past month.  I thought I would share some, if you don’t know it. (If I were a more technical person I would insert a video so you could hear him singing – but I can’t seem to make that happen)  Anyway, here are some of the lyrics.

“Anthem”

The birds they sang at the break of day

Start again I heard them say

Don’t dwell on  what has passed away

or what is yet to be.

Ah, the wars they will be fought again

The holy dove, she will be caught again

Bought and sold and bought again

The dove is never free….

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

Canvas paper, collage, watercolor, gouache, found paper.  12 in x 7.5 in.

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Sometimes a bump in the night….

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“Witch”  Acrylic  on canvas 9×12 inches

It is amazing how surprising it always is to me to discover that someone I know well wishes me harm.  This has happened before with this same person, and I am always surprised at the depth of another’s misguided thoughts and potentially damaging actions.  I know this person very well and although I cannot say I trust this person, I can say I thought benign coexistence was a possibility.  However, apparently this is not ever going to be possible.  She has stolen from me, she has tried to tarnish my reputation, not only as a human being, but as a member of my family and friends.  I will never understand the motivation that drives this kind of person – I try to keep in mind that it is a sad thing for her own soul, but I also have quick hot bursts of anger that threaten to bloom into some kind of retaliation, which I realize is a choice each of us has to make and I have always chosen not to retaliate, not to allow bitterness or anger to become my own path, but it takes strength of conviction and often courage.  I am happy in my life and I refuse to be denigrated by her actions.  Yes?

My Artist’s Journal in progress – “Time Traveler”

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Time Traveler 004

I have been working on a little ‘artist’s book’ since my daughter and grandson left.  I was walking around the house staring at space when I found myself in front of the refrigerator ( door closed) staring at the magnetic “poetry” left by friends and family over the last year or so, probably more like last three years because I hate to destroy these strange little leavings.  Anyway, I got this idea of using the refrigerator poetry in an artist’s book.  It’s been a great project and I still have three more double pages to complete.  I decided to use a little brown paper blank journal that I had scribbled in over the years and torn out many of the pages.  I used oil pastels, soft pastels, pencil,  a lot of ephemera collaged onto the pages, old photographs, and other little items.  Techniques included alcohol gel transfers, and just plain old cut and paste.  This is the first time I’ve done something like this and I learned a lot, and hope I will produce a more refined product next time around!  I think the magnetic poetry really added something to the pages. I found it interesting that many of the “poetic” thoughts  had to do with time, and so I tried to add that element to the pages.

“Happiness is sleep – listen random time”

Sleep 

 “Rainbow dream nap not peace?

Rainbow Nap

 “Hour-ly surprise magic”

Hourly Surprise

 “Because in no time…”

Before

“Fling, drive, dream, smile, and wait!”

Fling

“Moon window night comes quiet-ly home”

Moon Window

“Silver-ed words saved in a jar  – carried by me to the sea” –Silvered

“Vanish through morning sky see her wave”

Vanish Through

“By Saturday we are jelly donuts”

Jelly Donuts

Facing Weirdness

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I did some messing around this evening with paint and the postcard size format I am currently working on.  I think I was mostly trying to avoid working on the big painting, which requires total concentration. I find myself avoiding it – even though it is on the easel in the kitchen and I have to look at it nearly as soon as I come into the front door!  Sometimes it looks really good, other times it looks really stupid – almost as if it were presenting different possibilities to me for my viewing pleasure.  I wonder if others feel this way about their work – that sort of love hate thing.  I don’t know.  I live such a solitary life, I rarely have an opportunity to talk about art with anyone.  I have allowed my natural tendencies to eccentricity to become foremost in my daily living patterns.  I like living alone – I like working when I feel like it and not having to explain or ask permission to anyone, but I also like people and enjoy hearing their thoughts.  I guess I am just not one of those very chirpy people who can blend their lives with such apparent ease — I think that’s why I attempted this blog thing – hoping somehow to talk to others about their art and what hopes they have for it.  I also have very little time for art and so it seems wasteful to spend so much energy socializing.  I think I am weird….