Two Hundred Years of Blue – Brain Pickings

Cerulean splendor from Goethe, Thoreau, Virginia Woolf, Vladimir Nabokov, Rachel Carson, Toni Morrison, and other literary masters.
— Read on www.brainpickings.org/2018/05/17/two-hundred-years-of-blue/

New Work

King Protea is an exotic Hawaiian plant. The blooms captivated me at first sight.

I had a little fun with art and photography by drawing a couple of these magnificent blooms and using the photo app to enhance the colors in photo two.

My ideas came from art and photos on Pinterest.

 

 

Musings on Artistic Fantasy

“Sunday morning coming down…”. We remember or have heard the line from that country song. I seem to hear it in the deep soulful voice of Johnnie Cash. I had my share of those dark empty awakenings. Enough to be thrilled and blessed with joy this Sunday to awaken to a world of freedom from self. In this world I have boundaries to express my greatest fantasies in writing and art.

Now to be sure, art is in the eye of the beholder and is intrinsically relative, but mine is definitely primitive, unpredictable. Art to me is fun and fantasy. A fellow blogger asked me recently what my favorite art “subject” is. Wow! I could not answer her. I suppose the closest I can come is “Fantasy”. Here I reluctantly and with fear and trembling, post a few of my pieces. “Sunday morning coming out…”. Feedback from any and all will be graciously accepted!    

 Cheers and Happy Sunday!  

Myra

 

 

Sixteen

Swan like beauty, golden thin

Binging, purging

Perfection in lilac chiffon wisps

Azaleas

Flowers…..

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Try as I might, capturing the frail beauty of a bloom is beyond my blundering hand. The hues and tones of nature, bleed together mysteriously so as to create three dimensional glories worthy only of the great Creator. If I was a poet perhaps an Ode to the twining flures would suffice. 

As for today, I offer this new work. It is filled with all the joy of glorious hues and tones of nature. Every mystery of my hand and imagination gladly fumbled it onto the canvas.

One for my friend. One for my child.

Flowers…

The Taxidermist

Cold as stone, he found him.

Lifeless matted friend .

Sled a’home took him.

 

In lamplight dim began.

Thawing fire a’blazing,

Chipping, tearing, cleaning.

 

Warm as toast, he made him.  

Lifelike woolly king.

Stately, grand and grazing.

 

Through shining rays he witnessed,

Sprouting crown and smile.

His parsnip fell again. Amazing!