fine art prints
I started this blog after moving to northern New Mexico from coastal North Carolina. Feeling the loss of my creative community, I started posting works in progress as a way to push myself forward and connect with other writers and painters.
For the first eight months or so I offered original narrative images as weekly image prompt for writers. The Storybook Collaborative pages document the collaborations.
Sadly - for I have enjoyed the adventure, and meeting so many interesting, creative souls - keeping the blog has has taken a back seat to sleep, family, work obligations and the birth of our Mountain daughters. I'd like to get back to it and still hope to one day. Until such time I am delighted by your visit and hope you will leave a comment and come back for more.
Monthly Archives: February 2008
This is the conference Naomi is organizing in Santa Fe this weekend. Fun and educational. Anybody in the area please come! (And please introduce yourself!) Details here: http://www.uwc-usa.org/cec/peace.htm Sponsored By United World College-USA, Monte Del Sol Charter School, Santa Fe … Continue reading
Only a great kaleidoscope can break the cold gray stone that forms in the bottom of the heart when we consider the way that we treat each other and make it beautiful.
She sits upon a windowsill and spies a laughing boy, about eleven, walking barefoot by the water’s edge beneath the tree’s green reaching hands. The canopy throws its color down and lights the shadows with reflections, the subtle ocher, umber, … Continue reading
I am in Boston this weekend to say goodbye to an old friend. Here is the death notice, which appeared today in the Boston Globe Ivan Gold Of Boston, formerly of New York City on December 23, 2007, writer, teacher, … Continue reading
I found this calf in Merida, in the mountains of western Venezuela. The painting began as a scumble of color on a tinted and sanded 2′ x 4′ masonite panel. Then I stalled out. I had earlier painted a series … Continue reading
She sits upon on a windowsill and spies a laughing boy, about eleven, walking barefoot down the river’s edge beneath the tree’s green reaching hands. The canopy throws its color down and lights the shadows with reflections, the subtle ocher, … Continue reading
on a subway under Boston sat a kid in a ratty hat with his finger in his nose by the window dressed in velvet sat a girl from the Mississippi and she squished when she walked cause her shoes were … Continue reading
I was born in a hearse, I carry my curse, from midnight to midnight, searching by lamplight, for someone to find me, a hand that can guide me, through the streets that hide me, from midnight to midnight.
I found this canvas in a thrift shop and recycled it. The bright colors are showing through from the original thrift shop painting. I drizzled roofing tar on the canvas and then brought out some of the images which were … Continue reading
Slow, swollen, unattractive, difficult to work with, dead. Your husband cried when we told him.
or, how to ruin a perfectly good painting? I am better about knowing when to stop but still sometimes overpaint one. This is one I liked very much as a charcoal and acrylic sketch. Here are some pics of the … Continue reading
A recently completed portrait of Beethoven as a young man. The painting was commissioned by Ron Maltais, the Music Director here at UWC-USA, in exchange for piano lessons for my son, Broadus. I worked from a photo of an old … Continue reading
your imprint detached itself from the great cloud, giving up forgetfulness and unknowing, taking up memory and knowledge, wearing once again the clown suit, cheering me from my great longing, pushing me back from the edge of the hollowed out … Continue reading
The spring craves water. Is, does, always will. A hammer is something else when it’s not being used. Any tool can tell you something is lost when it’s not being used. My dog cries when she gets left behind. Some … Continue reading
A candle breaks the nighttime, the seconds sputter past. Christina hums the blues to make the seconds last. Her anything but joyful days recall her own beginnings. Her candlesong is one of praise for all that’s left of living.
Maybe it wasn’t some great or tragic flaw. It could have been just an occurrence happening like a watchspring come unsprung and deciding to dance. Power comes from, rests and abides with the old rotten Stonehenge figures and grandfathers. You … Continue reading
There is a man in a cage, you can see his hands. A tower holds the cage, the sun burns above. The sun wears a face. The face doesn’t smile. Below, a ruined wall runs to both horizons, its stones … Continue reading
we crossed your love with my desire i spun my faith through your fire and yours spun through my water. in the hills her soul found ours, her voice was mist and trills. we knew her by her laughter.
lost it! I don’t think this poem was meant to be posted.
I had reservations about the poem I matched with the painting here and so took it down. So, in the spirit of collaboration, if you, or you and your kids, or your kids, or anyone else would like to offer … Continue reading
Here is a little darkling of a poem that has been rattling around my brainpan. I’ll try to make something a little more upbeat for my next post. The image I have paired here is the 3rd panel in a … Continue reading