is the end something we see

is the end something we see
something we fall into
like a dreamless night
do we fight the conclusion
papering the wall with shadows
is parting a just expense
our breaths used
some squandered
or salvaged for scraps
is the end something we see
hearing transient star light
blinding white silences
preemptive acceptance
of unseen faith
ushering ever onward
back to our beginnings

Clinging/sculpt

Clinging/sculpt

May you dream in many warm colors this night…

Clay sculpture done way, way back in high school circa 1979, and if memory serves she was nearly 3 feet in length and pretty darn heavy.

Moonskin and a Blue Monster

Dear Friends,
The saturday night moon… Something about soft blue light bathing parts of vulnerable skin, the bedroom window allows to be touched. So peaceful this moonlight. Smiling, forgetting my head sinking into the mattress because that old pillow has seen better days. Like a child – I was – in that satin light. Our dachshund curled under the comforter; a tunneler by trade. Shouldn’t he be howling or something?

A few months ago, the big son was perusing my high school yearbook. He found my senior picture, looked a few moments then said, “Mom, you looked pretty.” I smiled. He made me feel young like that satin moonlight, if only for a moment.

hs pic.668And of course, now that I’m lots older, more wrinkled and much wiser, the moonlight also inspires other things. I like to call this lovely birdie, Bluebell. He rises with the sunset and enjoys all things in blue moon light.

bluebellIf you should meet him please don’t worry, he harbors a sweet disposition, but just to be safe, I’d let him be…unless the moon is extra bright…

bluebell closeupThank you and goodnight. May delicious blue moonlight guide you to dreamland…
High School grad photo taken 1981 yikes! Bluebell images created in 2010…

Earth logo for blog

Dappled Sunlight

Dear Friends,
Was it so long ago four little feet shuffled up the silent, curving driveway? The trees were especially kind that summer day as they cooled your bright bodies. Filtered sunlight painted dappled patches on your skin. You held your brother’s hand. Your brother held tight both your hand and his blue, plastic golf club. Our Shepherd guarded you both as if you were her own pups.

But as fast as the leaves left the trees, you both grew. Your feet wandering off that silent driveway and onto other travelled roads. Today, tomorrow or wherever your paths take you, keep in your hearts that dappled day when the sun was warm and the light was cool and we had a picnic lunch on the soft green grass…

car and max on roadHow quickly the young gallop away…

zebrasThank you and goodnight. May you count your blessings instead of sheep this night…
Have a beautiful weekend. 🙂
Delicate daughter and big son taken 2002 at our old house in the woods, zebras rendered in Prisma 2008

The Pointy-Eared Dog Who Admired Art

Dear Friends,
There once lived a pointy-eared dog who admired art. He marveled at flat empty spaces of no significance brought to life with color, line and form. His great canine imagination soared whenever he gazed upon brushwork harmony –

rocky w:captainOne day he met a lovely blue-eyed woman. They spent the afternoon sipping Harley & Sons Peppermint Herbal Tea – his favorite – bantering about the merits of sable brushes infused with hog hair. He asked a passerby to take a photo of  this lovely smiling day. For the pointed-eared dog feared, if precious moments were not captured on canvas or film, the memories would be lost forever-

rocky:doloConcern for his own lasting image began haunting him. The pointy-eared dog once heard of a legend. A pointy-eared dog like himself – a Queen in her day – who had her image committed to canvas.

chama w:paintingHe wished for the same and set about the task of gathering the portraitist’s location. During his info quest, the pointy-eard dog heard another legend. This one painted terror in his heart. After the Queen’s death, the royal portraitist became a recluse and had moved beyond the border of Werewolf Wood. If one desired their portrait painted, one must make it through Werewolf Wood alive.

werewolf woodThe pointy-eared dog contemplated his motives for desiring a portrait of himself-

rocky reflectingHe questioned the intelligence of risking life and limb –

rocky tip headThe pointy-eared dog even tried imagining the mighty Werewolf fearing itself-

Lupogoggle

Lupogoggle

In the end, the pointy-eared dog smartly decided not to risk a journey through Werewolf Wood. He’d have to do his best to remember himself from the inside. He’d try to summon his best qualities and paint an image in his heart. The pointy-eared dog reasoned if he focused on his good qualities everyday, his image would be a masterpiece…

Thank you. May you dream a dream free of werewolves and hobgoblins…
Hope you enjoyed this little tale. Incidentally, Rocky the Shepherd is a ham 😉

Photo: Rocky posing with Captain -acrylic on canvas, 1998 Photo: My lovely sister Dolores with Rocky 2011 Photo: Chama posing with her portrait: oil on canvas,1994 Photos: Rocky the Shepherd closeups – 2013
Werewolf art – mixed media 2011, Werewolf with Goggles – Prisma 2014

The Talking Mushroom and the Little Red Fox

Dear Friends,
There once lived a little red fox-

fox

fox

Her auburn fur edged with gold, flickered in the sunlight whenever she ran about the forest. She was smart and lovely, yet she was unhappy. Though she could do all things in perfect fox-form, she dreamt of being a kangaroo. Daily she practiced graceful long jumps. The little red fox could even leap much higher than her older brothers. But this amazing athletic prowess, didn’t satiate her bounding appetite. She wanted to be a kangaroo. One misty morning with dew saturating her delicate toes, the little red fox came upon a purple-spotted mushroom. It was a purple-spotted fungus, the likes of which she’d never seen.

“My dear child,” bubbled the purple-spotted mushroom from his damp earthen throne, “you are unhappy.”

“Yes,” replied the little fox, not even a bit concerned she was talking to a purple-spotted fungus.

“I can make you happy,” whispered the mushroom low, as not to share his secret.

“How?” asked the little red fox, unable to contain her excitement.

“One bite of me and your dream will come true.”

The little red fox wasted not a moment, she chomped on the purple-spotted mushroom. When she awoke next morning, she could not push up on her strong front paws as she done all the previous days of her life. She rolled to her side, then much to her surprise, sprang up. So forceful was the leap, she soared fifty feet across the forest floor. The little red fox landed by a large puddle that had collected between gnarly tree roots and rock. She caught her reflection in the shimmering water. Her wish had been granted – her dream realized. Instead of being jubilant for the change, she sobbed mightily. She was neither a little red fox nor a complete kangaroo…

fox:kangaThere was once a snowman who wished he was a fox-

Snow Fox

Snow Fox

Hope you enjoyed my little fable.
Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of being content in your own skin…

(Fox Up Close: Prisma, 2000,  Foxroo: acrylic on canvas, 1999,  Snowman with Fox Mask: Prisma, two days ago)

I Used to Blog, Now I’m Just Confused

Dear Friends,
WARNING – LONG POST, SORRY, I’VE GOTTEN MYSELF CONFUSED…
PG-13 (mild profanity)

I’ve made a horrible mistake, and now I’ve gotten myself completely confused. It happened after reading too many articles on: How to Increase Blog Traffic. Yes, it’s true. I have an evil plan. I wish to buy groceries using art/writing income rather than my current alternative – substitute teaching. This past school year, every time I walked into a classroom I thought, “AnnMarie, what the heck are you doing? You’re not a teacher, you’ve got a design degree. Besides chocolate and wine, there’s art in your blood. You should be spending 8 hours a day drawing and writing, not speaking over chattering students.”

This is my confused, hapless, helpless face-

baby gorillaWe dream to make a living doing what we love. It’s a lovely dream that can be and is reality for some. Most of us keep going to see where the ‘going’ takes us. According to the Dear Abby’s of Blogworld, the ‘going’ should include twittering, redditing, stumbling, pintresting… I don’t do any of these ‘ing’ things. Perhaps, I should start… I did add the buttons on the bottom of my blog, though I still don’t know what half of them are.

“Commenting…” Some Abby Advisors suggest only commenting on relevant sites. I don’t think this advice is very gracious. I get the whole business model and practical reasons why, but we’re nothing if we aren’t all ‘relevant.’ We should support each other inside and outside of blogworld, regardless of what our “Abouts” say. So this advice I can’t follow.

“Follow Blog Gurus or Bloggers in the Know” Chris Brogan has been labeled a ‘blog god.’ I thought maybe a blog god is just what I need. I visited his site (Chris Brogan) as advised. He seems a decent sort and a doting dad who happens to have a myriad of speaking, writing, publishing and tech credentials. His site has loads of advice, perhaps when my head is emptied, I’ll brave another visit and try digesting some of his suggestions…

“How often to Post?” Let’s see the next piece of advice (most articles suggest blogging 3-5 x’s per week) is the one that tears me down the middle. I really need advice here. I’ve been posting everyday since February 14, 2014. I’ve started taking off weekends. Though my posts are most often text-light they take a bit of time to put together. I often feel they should run at least 2 days. Then I think – no – I should post everyday. Chris Brogan posts everyday and it has been said, “He never runs out of ideas.” I suppose that’s why he is a blog god. I’m leaning toward every other day…not sure…any suggestions would be humbly appreciated…

“Be yourself.” Who else would I be? There is no one more me than me. Is there anyone you know who is more you than you? I can’t write like anyone else but me. If I had a choice to be someone else, I guess I’d prefer smaller feet so when I buy shoes they’re as cute as their petite counterparts usually displayed.

“Observe your stats.” I stuck paintbrushes in my ears during Algebra and never took them out. I can’t look at graphs to figure out what works and what doesn’t. If I started dissecting charts I most definitely wouldn’t be me. I’d be a person who uses statistics or a person who understands them. I’ll just go on posting what I post and let the pie pieces fall where they may.

“Be controversial.” Why?

There are blogs that sometimes put me to shame. So many blogs, from old and young alike – those who suffer with debilitating illnesses, perhaps are dealing with struggling loved ones or who support noble causes…these blogs do more than just inform. In blogworld their stories, their indomitable hearts are transformative. These people fly in perfect form across the blog’s stratosphere…

There are millions of spectacular blogs, but it’s not the digital formats that are amazing (though some designs are super cool) it’s the human beings behind them – fleshy fingertips transporting their outstanding ideas into sharable formats we can enjoy, learn, discuss… When I chat with the many fascinating people I’ve met along the way, it’s the only time I’m sure of why I’m blogging. There is no greater fulfillment then meeting, sharing or conversing with kindred spirits. Blogworld doesn’t judge, we can all join – any age – any sex – any type – any mindset – any talents – we’re all created equal here.

Let’s see where was I, oh yes, I was figuring out how to buy milk and eggs. I think I’m going to let this post linger a few days while gathering my thoughts. I have made several promises this summer: to run with my son in the mornings, to watch Parks and Recreation with my daughter, to spend quality time with my husband, to read down my summer reading list, to create new art, to unslush my slush pile and to maintain friendships – both old and new,

So I’ll keep blogging onward…and hey, you never know, maybe someday I just might sell some art and writing then go to the grocery store 🙂

Best advice ever: “…Line up alphabetically, according to height…”- Casey Stengel

Peace,
AnnMarie
see you in a few days…