Tag Archives: art

Equidae

27 Jun

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golden light with endless shine
the world’s colors intertwined
a longing spreads from distant lands
moving now beneath my hands

I cannot catch this fleeting thing
that grabs my soul and makes it sing
it travels with me where I go
and haunts me how I cannot know

When others left their past behind
mine travelled with me in my mind
I turn my head and hear the sound
of thundering hoofbeats ‘cross the ground

I grab a mane and hold on tight
riding wildly through the night
pausing now atop a hill
the world around me silent and still

and in the morning light I see
there is a horse here now with me
he is old and so am I
but on the wind we still can fly

This material is copyright and not to be reproduced without permission of the author.

The Possibilities are Endless

22 Mar

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This is not horse related, but it is art related.  Since everything is related, I guess it’s a post about everything. 

As a homeschool parent, you don’t receive many kudos.  Make that no kudos.  Society assumes you are Amish or hoarding an arsenal of weapons and cracked wheat.

Oh, well.  I’m used to being different. People homeschool for all kinds of reasons in this day and age.  There are millions of homeschooled kids, most of them successful, happy and can hope to be accepted to college and hold jobs.  If they really want to stockpile cracked wheat, they can do that, too.  The possibilities are endless.

But back to kudos.  One of my kids received awards in the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards competition.  She likes to write and make art.   I submitted her work as her “teacher” because of course there has to be a teacher.

Today I received a lovely Made in China (yes, large letters informed me of that in case I had any ideas that the pin was manufactured elsewhere) Teacher Award Pin from Scholastic.

A nice letter thanked me for my “daily efforts in the classroom and the fundamental role I  play in the nurturing of the talents, abilities and personal vision of my students.”

Wow!!!  No one has ever thanked me for that before.  Well, Scholastic did last year.  But no one else ever has.  I don’t even have a classroom.  I think we will keep entering Scholastic as long as we homeschool.   I am feeling really important about now.

Yes, I know the pin is upside down.  Well, I know now. 

The Zen Of Talking to Yourself

22 Mar

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Katie doesn’t have this problem.  Or so she says.  This is her person writing.

I’ve always been one of those people who organizes thoughts by talking to myself.  I used to think it was a mad scientist, artist or cooking show host trait.  But no, it is a Zen trait.

The kid with his locker next to mine in High School, Quinton, had it worse.  He would talk to himself as he rolled the combination lock, as he found his books and even when he walked.  I never knew if he was talking to himself, me or his locker.  He was a genius beyond genius academically, and one of my favorite people.  He was oblivious to social pressure, whereas I pretended to be a person who didn’t talk to myself.

I still talk to myself when I’m painting.   Zen helped me accept it.  Now that I comprehend that we are all the yellow ochre, chalky green and canvas itself, a conversation with art supplies (or combination locks) seems perfectly normal.

After all, painting a picture, opening a locker or even walking is the Universe having a conversation with itself.  So is playing an instrument, picking up trash, peeling an apple.  We’re just one face of the universe, and so is everything else.  We converse in various ways.  Sometimes we don’t respect the other faces we see- from plants, to the land to other creatures, human or otherwise.  Ultimately, that means we disrespect ourselves.  But when I see people making positive changes, caring, respecting our fellow earthlings (and ourselves), it gives me hope.  We are all one.  How we treat each other matters– readers, oceans and yellow ochre.  The little things matter.

A Quick Sketch

11 Mar

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A quick sketch of Katie done while waiting at 4-H.  No time is ever wasted if you have pencils and sketchpad.

On Icebergs and Introverts

9 Mar

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Katie is busy eating hay this morning and was taught to never talk with her mouth full, so this is my post.

I used to think the reason introverted people ran into things lot was because we were lost in our own thoughts.  Now I realize it is because we’re icebergs.

What you see is not what you get.  Most of an introvert is below water.  That’s a lot of power.  An iceberg inadvertently sank the Titanic.  So if a quiet person bumps into you today, that was the rest of the iceberg.  We’re just bigger than most people realize and sometimes we don’t realize it ourselves.

A Few Thoughts, In the Name of Art

23 Jan

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Katie is out in the pasture today, so I’m off on a writerly tangent.
Since I started writing again, I feel like “God” is following me around, poking me with a stick.  “God” walks quietly and carries an invisible (but sharp) stick, because whenever I turn around to look, there’s no one there.

I’m not even sure it’s really God, since I’m not sure I believe in one of those.  It could just be a random stick poking me.

“Wake up, Kid,” a voice seems to say.

I’m not a kid, that’s for sure.  But artists and writers never really grow up.  Artists spend a lot of time looking at frost-covered leaves, watching shadows cast by clouds and finding pictures in the swirly patterns on wallpaper.  We still try to find the end of the rainbow and almost get there.   “Artist” is not mutually exclusive with any other profession.  Art itself is not exclusive, since it can’t really be defined.   Artists tend to be accepting of differences in other people,  especially paradoxes.  Diversity brightens an artist’s day.

That’s why you can walk into a room full of artists or visit an art opening and find yourself among old friends you’ve never met before.  Anyone who has faced a blank page or canvas and ended up putting some marks on it has walked the hero’s journey.  They’ve been poked by God-like sticks to get working and answered the call.

Most artists are loathe to define things. When you name something, you steal its power.  Words are limited, and often you stop really seeing something when once you name it.  Think of that beautiful bird at your feeder.  When you didn’t know what it was, you knew every detail of its stripes and colors.  Once it became a Variegated Thrush, it was just a bird.  It lost a lot of its magic.  Though still beautiful, it will never be seen in such completeness as the first unknown orange brown bird who appeared at the feeder.

Humans also label each other (liberal, conservative, vegetarian, tele-evangelist) and then we stop seeing who is really front of us.  No words can ever completely capture the essence of anything.  Neither can a painting or photo.  But that doesn’t stop us from trying.  Just be safe,  artists avoid being pinned down about many things.

God is one of those.  Many artists, being creators themselves, have a firm, unfailing belief in a universal creative force of some kind.  But define it?  No way.  That takes away the magic.  Of course, some artists are completely comfortable defining God/Goddess/etc., and some have ditched the concept entirely for secular humanism.

So whoever is poking me (or you) with a stick, saying, “wake up and write,” thank you. I’m not that interested in what to call the Stick-poker.  I’m busy drawing a frost-covered leaf.  You may call the Universal Stick-Poker of Creativity anything you would like.  And I won’t judge you for it.