We All See

Posted on July 24, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
We look up from Tahiti. We look up from Andora. We look up from French Guiana. We look up from Chile. We look up from Belgium. We look up from Gibraltar. We look up from St. Vincent. We look up from Macedonia. We look up from Cuba. We look up from Armenia. We look up from Senegal. We look up from Nepal. We look up…

We all see the sky. We all share the azure. We all see the clouds. We all share the billowy white. We all see the storm. We all share the ominous gray. We all see the sun. We all share the bright yellow. We all see the sunset. We all share the crimson. We all see the moon. We all share the silver-blue. We all see the stars. We all share…

We all see…

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of the world’s people gazing up together, thankful for the sky…

Lady of Sorrows, 4′ x 3′ oil on canvas, 1997

The Pointy-Eared Dog Who Admired Art

Posted on July 20, 2014 by AM Roselli

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 –

One 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-

Concern 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.

He 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.

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

He questioned the intelligence of risking life and limb –

The pointy-eared dog even tried imagining the mighty Werewolf fearing itself-

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 Quiet Humble of a Role Model

Posted on July 16, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
I’m a floating sideline spectator whenever the giant husband and big son are entertained by crunching helmets, leaping high-tops or cracking bats. Once in a while, I’ll land on the couch and observe the action up close. Above the din, there is one echo I listen for. A sound one must hear with both ears open these days – the quite humble of a role model. It’s a rare combination of platinum ethics and golden athletic prowess. The man donning pinstripes No.2 possesses this treasured combination. Each time Derek Jeter tips his cap, he lifts a young fan’s heart.

Throughout Derek Jeter’s prolific career, his on – but more importantly – his off-field image has gleamed. One sometimes wonders the plausibility of such a feat anymore when ridiculous entitlement breeds contempt. Derek Jeter has exhibited with grace and class how to be outrageously talented yet quietly humble. And now I’ll wait for a few more superstars to step up to the plate and shine for all those watching, including my children…

Perhaps in the end, I admire Derek Jeter most for his endearing sentiments-
“You try to carry yourself the right way. I’ve always tried to do that. Then again I am who I am. I don’t try to be any different. If people respect you for the way that you carry yourself, it means a lot to me and it means a lot to my family. It makes you feel good.” -Derek Jeter as quoted by the Associated Press

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of the world’s children playing ball happily together.

Photo of the big son at age 12, taken during last year’s wrestling season
Acrylic painting, Delicate Daughter & Big Son, 4′ x 2′ on canvas, 2008

In an Elephant’s Eye

Posted on July 15, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
Do you ever have one of those outer-body experiences? It usually happens when you pose the intrusive question, “Who am I really?” Then you become aptly concerned when you don’t have enough solid information to answer yourself. Sometimes outer-body occurs after staring at your reflection too long. You investigate the mask you happen to be wearing at the time and think, “Is this what they see when they see me?”

The elephant is one of a handful of mammals who recognizes its own reflection. This beautiful creature doesn’t get caught up in human over-analyzations. In an elephant’s eye it sees who it is – nothing more, nothing less – it sees itself and simply knows its purpose for the day…

I had a little fun with this beautiful creature, imparting human qualities upon its regal form. I thought if elephants were people they might become a tad self-concious after watching, The Biggest Loser.

Belly Mask

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of tutu-clad elephants dancing a lullaby…

Elephant close-up rendered in Prisma on construction paper, 2009
Belly Mask rendered in Prisma July 14, 2014

The Talking Mushroom and the Little Red Fox

Posted on July 10, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
There once lived a little red 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…

There was once a snowman who wished he was a 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)

Why Can’t Marilyn Die?

Posted on July 1, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
What is it about Marilyn Monroe? Our appetite for her is limitless.

I fell for her too. I created all these Marilyn images while in college to fill bare apartment walls.

Though gorgeous, sexual beings have gone before and will after (especially today with sophisticated ‘self-improvement’ technologies) none will ever come close to Marilyn’s platinum pulchritude. What is it beyond her obvious blessings? What keeps Norma Jean ever present on our radar.

Perhaps, the perception of innocence around her persona allows us to love her above all others. It allows us to forgive her ‘naive’ transgressions. We blame Hollywood, we blame the machine for allowing her to slip through the cracks. Had her full lips creased at forty-five, would she have tarnished? Would her ‘innocence’ have turned stale? Maybe…

I don’t know about ‘candles in the wind,’ I only know Marilyn Monroe ended her life (unless you subscribe to other conspiracy theories) before life ended her. As for me, I’m still looking for Elvis and Jim.

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of statuesque blonde angels…

(magazine pic taken in local Stop & Shop, top Marilyn: 18″ x 24″ print from zinc plate etching, middle Marilyn: 5′ x 3′ acrylic painting, bottom Marilyn 9′ conté crayon) All images painted from photographic reference, couldn’t locate original photographers’ names, if anyone knows, please pass on – all photo images are under different estates…thank you

I Used to Blog, Now I’m Just Confused

Posted on June 25, 2014 by AM Roselli

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-

We 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…

Hitchhikers Are Not Wolves

Posted on June 24, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
Though I’m done with subbing for the year, I drove my kids to school this morning. They generally ride the bus, unless they present a convincing plea. The delicate daughter has perfected the art of pleading. This morning’s plea began last night. She had the Chemistry Regents today and was concerned about AM cafeteria crowding…. The big son’s eighth-grade graduation was also today.

After the AM school drop off, I merrily made my way back home. I was thinking about what to wear for the “Recognition Ceremony” and was hoping I plucked everything in need of plucking. Not fully concentrating, I had to pull my giant vehicle left to avoid a gent walking roadside. If Nair and tweezers hadn’t been invented, we might be related. He was unkempt in appearance. He wore a cap which concealed his eyes. He was quite thin and his shoulders were slumped, but he held his fist erect. His thumb was up and my head was down. Why? Every time I pass a hitchhiker, I picture Stephen King. Then I think – this person is not a wolf…

I often brag how tough I am. My inner-tomboy would whomp anyone bringing discomfort to my loved ones. Why does the little girl in me say, ‘keep driving….’ when she sees a thumb up. I feel tremendous guilt passing hitchhikers by, but I continue to do so. Maybe if the times were different, maybe. Hitchhikers are not wolves…hitchhikers are not wolves…

Thank you and goodnight. May your dreams be protected by Sweet Lobo of Moon Clan.

(This is a detail of a 5′ x 5′ oil painting on canvas, I think I painted this wolf about 6 years ago)

Linus Who?

Posted on June 23, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,

Partial Wikipedia entry: “Linus Carl Pauling (February 28, 1901 – August 19, 1994) was an American chemist, biochemist, peace activist, author, and educator. He was one of the most influential chemists in history and ranks among the most important scientists of the 20th century. Pauling was one of the founders of the fields of quantum chemistry and molecular biology.

For his scientific work, Pauling was awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 1954. In 1962, for his peace activism, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. This makes him the only person to be awarded two unshared Nobel Prizes. He is one of only four individuals to have won more than one Nobel Prize (the others being Marie Curie, John Bardeen, and Frederick Sanger). Pauling is also one of only two people to be awarded Nobel Prizes in different fields, the other being Marie Curie.”

I have officially entered Mr. Pauling into my gray matter. I pray a tiny brain wrinkle forms so this new info keeps. Well my friends, as we dangle upside down contemplating the meaning of our lives and struggle for our minute of fame, notoriety, security, acknowledgment, validation or a simple pat on the back, perhaps the real measure of greatness is finding one’s face in the dictionary margin.

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of humanity winning the Nobel Peace Prize…

(Sketched this portrait today, beneath the beautiful sun and glorious sky. Cheesy pencil on cheesy paper)

Locked Holy Doors and Worn Tombstones

Posted on June 22, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
This afternoon the giant husband and I did some weekend running around. On the way home, we passed by a lovely old, shingle-sided church.

By appearances, it hadn’t held a congregation in quite some time. The front door was locked and bolted – a sad sight for a house where one is supposed to find solace and prayer. The building might even be for sale – sadder still…

Adjoining this historic structure was an old graveyard.

Many of the stones, some going back to the 1700’s, had served hard time. Some had sprouted lichens.

Still others surfaces were so worn the names and dates were no longer readable.

Some stones rested on one another for support, clinging to the last vestiges of their earthen anchors.

There was a beautiful tree, its powerful branches watching over and protecting its wards.

It continues cherishing thousands of secrets and keeping whispers safe.

Over the years, I’ve passed by many houses of worship. Their doors locked when services are not underway. I’ve passed by ancient cemeteries too, some a bit neglected.
In times of real need, we alone must bow our heads to dream of hope, pray for peace and hold onto our loved ones as long as possible on this earth…

This post is dedicated to Phyllis Rose who lost her battle with cancer on Friday night. My mom told me of Phyllis’s passing. She was 53. I hadn’t seen Phyllis Rose since I was in my teens. On Friday night, I was worrying about getting the grocery shopping done…life is…
Thank you and goodnight. May your dreams be peaceful and your wishes all come true…