they say you can never go back
she did, at 79
the magic of optimism
in her breast
returning to Coney Island
for the ride of her life
a young man locked her in
brave nana, kneecaps knocking
beneath that padded bar
she didn’t look back
only forward
at the dropping parallel lines
stomach lifting steel
smiling, laughing, screaming
on this Halloween
she leaps another year to the right
considering each 365, a dazzling gift
nothing about her has changed much
her remarkable passion
her boundless spirit
why, in 80 years
the only thing that has changed
is the ticket price
her first ride cost twenty-five cents
last month, the Cyclone was twelve dollars
Tag Archives: photos
The Magical Last Light
I’d like to share something that I’ve selfishly kept to myself for many years. It’s free and it’s beautiful.
My favorite moment occurs when conditions are just right: the sky is a foreboding grey, the sinking sun is well onto closing down for the day, and a gentle wind lifts the tree leaves like fluttering butterflies.
The moment begins when the sun’s last rays illuminate just the tree tops. Then it happens–lasting only a few surreal minutes. Nothing else can describe this sight except magical–the magical last light.
It’s truly spectacular. The interior light in my studio softens even the dogs take notice.
It’s like leaving Kansas for Oz…
I hope you enjoyed this moment as much as I. If you take the time to seek out this light, you too will be reminded that all things are possible–even peace on earth…
Reworked old post from 2014, I thought fitting for today 🙂
our blue boys
the mantle has been empty far too long
I’ve been meaning to create another portrait
what else is an empty fireplace wall for?
it seems an eternity has passed
since working with a linen base and liquid pigment
pencil and paper are sometimes sorry replacements
on August 3, I set out my paints
and selected a canvas
large enough for a big dog
yet, not overwhelming
for a little one
our last Shepherd, Chama was a regal type
her stoic beauty typified her grace
I did my best to present these qualities
when I painted her formal portrait in 2002
our current dogs
hmm
Rocky the Shepherd
Mojo the Dachshund
what is it about this dynamic duo
that makes my family laugh often
they are quite goofy
yet, they can be fearless too
as small dogs usually go-
Mojo’s 13 pounds sees 90 in our Pella glass door
and
while a Shepherd cuts an intimidating figure
most times
Rocky acts quite silly
when conceptualizing a portrait
there is but one goal–
doing justice to
the subject(s)
outlook(s) on life
natural as the air they breath
in the case of Rocky and Mojo
I’d say joy
and since purple was not quite right
I chose the colors of a
blissful sky, a wistful ocean,
an icy fruit-sickle on a steamy day
our blue boys…
Blue Boys, acrylic – 3′ x 2 1/2′
finished a few days ago, in between doing loads of laundry – ah, if only they could help with the chores, now that would be something 😉
Chama (Chama the Shepherd looking at her portrait), oils – 2′ x 1 1/2′
painted in 2002 (sorry for poor photo quality)
eyes piercing
back when men were men
silent pain and strong hands
I remember other agents gathering around him at parties
women telling him what a handsome figure he cut
he smiled in his broad shouldered frame of 6’2
eyes piercing as was that deep voice
terrifying as a child
now remarkable
listening to his life stories
mesmerizing in detail, poetic in delivery, exciting in fact
an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation
as a kid staring up at him
I believed any criminal in my father’s path
immediately surrendered themselves
rather than deal with this larger than life, slice of human
friends called him Bill, the rest–Vito
judicious and fair before earning the law degree
an amazing and prolific career
mafia cases and colorful gangsters
the temper, he still has it
no patience for silliness, but all the time in the world for family
not a day goes by
when I don’t think of him
of the exceptional driving force
his charismatic personality has infused
and continues to…
Happy 84th Birthday, Dad

top photo – Brooklyn Tech, 2nd – Coast Guard, 3rd – firearms practice, 4th – my mother-in-law on left, dad center, mom on right
Shy Party Dog created last year for his 83rd B’day 🙂
sailing on terra firma
sadness
suspended by the cool sea
blue on blue
restorative
warm earth anchors
soil sanded tones
floating
directionless
ebb and flow
hope
believe
you can sail
on terra firma

delicate daughter as a wayward mermaid – one of my favorite photos
seabiscuit shell created a few months ago after staring at my Breyer’s horse collection that shares my studio (yes, I keep plastic horses – in my defense – they are very pretty)
Maybe a Triple Crown…
A Good and Decent Bowl
There once was a bowl
a good and decent bowl
it held soapy water
for a tiny infant
when her mother feared
the bath too large

There once was a bowl
a good and decent bowl
anchored beneath the chin
of a little boy
when his stomach feared
nursery school, too big

There once was a bowl
a good and decent bowl
it held on the shelf
for homeless socks
when they feared
losing perfect partners
And so is the life
of a good and decent bowl
Whose owner feared
new children were akin
to delicate birds
and nervous newts
before they grew
too tall and too strong
too fast

May you dream of a good and decent bowl that cares for treasures, both small and too large…
Please note though I’m all Italian I’d like to offer a big, beautiful, festively green Happy St. Pat’s to all!
Photos: Delicate daughter first used good and decent bowl when she was extremely delicate, Nana’s helping hands. Big son used good and decent bowl in mornings – he suffered nausea for 2 months at the start of nursery school. Now the good and decent bowl houses lost socks that dream of being reunited with their significant others. Perhaps one day we’ll bronze the good and decent bowl, as is the good and decent thing to do. 🙂
Art: (both critters endangered) rendered with marker and pencil a few weeks ago for a special project
Mojo’s Tail
The simplicity of a dog’s tail measuring more than temperature. How that tail remains alert until its owner unearths a treasure. A perfect ball – mushy, once yellow – perfect just the same. It’s Mojo’s treasure. The purity of finding bliss. Wind be damned. The grey sky an extemporaneous play with an early curtain call. How Mojo’s tail flies – a noble waving banner from the winning side. The captivating colors of victory unfurl. Mojo’s tail is happy as is he – by extension…

May you dream of finding singular happiness in the simple things…
Mojo’s pics snapped this blustery morning.
Red wolf (endangered) with a happy tail created last week with marker and pencil.

Outside the Window
My Friends,
Outside the window buildings twirl into the clouds
Inside are wisps of twisted thought
Up in the skies are throbbing raptor hearts
Inside are thumps of programmed expectancy
Westward are sands that time cannot shift
Inside – the tap, tap, tap of an egg timer
Under the waters coral architects sculpt
Inside are teardrops falling down a drain
Outside the window the world plays against the glass
Inside the sun stops reaching
May you dream while awake…
Life is Short
My Friends,
Life is short
Throw jellybeans at a giant
Challenge a lion to a dueling roar
Whisper into the wind’s ear
Sail the ocean aboard a paper boat
Howl at the moon during sunrise
Life is short
Live it long…


Thank you. Dream until you fall asleep
Kitchen bulletin board and studio table photographed 7 pm tonight. My kiddies photo taken twelve years ago.
Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us
My Friends,
This blog of mine has been through several iterations. While returning from a self-hosted site back to WordPress, many older posts were lost in translation. I’m going to use Sunday evenings to rework, repair and repost some of my favorite 2014 efforts. I hope you don’t mind blogging down Memory Lane with me. If you haven’t read before, I hope you enjoy.
Thank you,
The ‘Annagement’ (sorry couldn’t resist)
Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us
(originally posted 4/15/14)
Returning home from a lovely garden journey, the giant husband and I happened upon an old-timer’s flea market. A pair of cigarette-smoking, timeworn vendors stood outside like cement lions. They wore pensive smiles while observing curious browsers.
The market’s outdoor portion consisted of a few makeshift tables loaded with lopsided frames, 1950’s tools, hat boxes… The indoor portion was housed in a dilapidated and dank-smelling barn that had seen better days. The giant husband and I strapped on our big-boy coveralls and entered the jittery building.
Beside the usual flea market fare of old records, fringed lamps, mildewed books, chipped dinnerware and broken Tonka toys there were boxes of dead dolls. I can’t think of anything more blood-curdling than little plastic people. Dolls used to scare the crap out of me when I was a kid, now they were back to haunt me.
These dolls were broken-hearted. Their tiny scratched lips whispered how long they’d lived without a warm embrace.
They’d been abandoned then forgotten…
The dolls choked on satin visages of yesteryear. Long ago, they’d been precious…
Eyes once marble-bright were now marred dull like the fabric tears of stuffed clowns…
The giant husband and I had to look away from the pained grimaces.
But the most frightening thing of all was when a little sinister man-doll attempted to steal the giant husband’s soul…
Thank you. May you dream of happy dolls in warm homes.
All photos taken in April 2014 with iPhone. I’ve made it a personal goal to attempt art for every post, some earlier posts in 2014 have only photos.




