the burning color of this moment
Tag Archives: thoughts
Welcome to Casino Limbo
Big Brown Eyes
Ah, back when my son was little, and each daily word and thought was ‘mom-ish’
Little Boy, Big Towel
Way back – when I used to take photo pics of my kiddies. If Max struck this same pose today, He’d need a much larger towel❤️
(I deep-dove into my older WP posts this morning. I’m going to re-post some. I so enjoy the merging of image & words)
Hope you’re all managing
am:)
Satellite Dish Inspired Prose
sipping coffee at 5 am while looking at a neighbor’s satellite dish (which to me resembles a sun warrior beseeching the sky for hope)
To My Beautiful Millie Mom
To my dearest friend — thank you for sharing your brightest life
your infectious joy, your brilliant smile
each day softening these endless farewells
so—goodbye, beautiful lady—goodbye, Mom
but—hello again, always—hello again…
I miss you I adore you I love you
(above) Millie, at 80, riding the Coney Island Cyclone (1996)
xo❤️💐
Millie passed in 2021
this thing called New Year
reconstructed resolutions lower the ball to the ground
the ball won’t rise again till the crowds gather next year
when the lovers and the true believers return in celebration
when the partiers piss and vomit on sidewalks and in alleys
My Resolution(s)
this year I’ve gotten better at accepting multiple versions
I’ve barreled through decades and broken over waterfalls
I’m pumped to shred the rowing muscles
this year I’m shoving specific plans into my eye sockets
not the usual well-formed outtakes, no more excuses
—here—I wonder if I’m bull-shitting myself with words as I often do
or maybe, I’ve gone and done it—reshaping thoughts into tangibles
maybe I have, because this morning, facial recognition can’t recognize me
could it be this year’s resolution, this thinning skin I wake in each day more
forcing my handheld device to decide who I am?
but…my new phone requires an app update…
I remain the same (use your words, AM)…
time carries the words, the dreams, the light
she throws down faster than a gaudy ball dropping on a bombastic evening
she grinds to enjoy a loved one’s pain
she grins as voyeur to our last moments
she slows if I watch her red digital clock counting down as my soup warms
I’ve come to realize this—dreams, words
the very pace of time is up to me, to you
when these things travel swiftly, we’re doing good work
busied our worlds between seconds, minutes, hours
this morning, I placed flint sparks in my pockets
today we will do good work
we will shoot firecrackers to light the night sky
we will dirty the dark street a little to say—we were here
to see, to smell, to hear, to taste, to touch
every burning color of this moment called life
“A Christmas Far More Glorious Than Grand”
One of my favorite holiday shows is Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol (1962). I adore the soundtrack and belt out the songs (much to the chagrin of my family) every December.
“…We can’t afford to have a hen
We will some day I vow
So I suggest you dream of then
and prize what we have now…”
— Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol
I recently jumped into sculpture and began my adventure using air-dry clay (lots of muss, but no heating element needed). I’ve asked Santa for polymer clay (bakes in standard kitchen oven). One can achieve much higher levels of detail with polymer clay.
The werewolf sculpt above was created with air-dry clay. I learned 1,000 ways how not to sculpt with this first bulky attempt.
A merry, merry to all who celebrate.
Warm wonderful days to all!🌲
Stay safe
am:)
Victorian Gills
Yesterday’s post highlighted an artwork I painted for my son. The painting – Washington’s Last Cantonment – was created after I’d painted a canvas for his sister.
For the acrylic (above), I used several old reference images – some of the fish – like the large koi – were directly inspired from those images (apologies to the brilliant artists – I’ve been unable to locate their names to properly credit) – a few of the other fish swim in my head – and now – on my daughter’s apartment wall. She’d requested the specific water color…for interior decor ‘matchi-ness’:)
Both paintings are 4′ x 2′ – each a labor of love. As much as I don’t enjoy painting landscapes, water scenes run a close second. I find the most joy in creating cryptids and creatures. I don’t know why or what to think of that. Perhaps, I shouldn’t ponder fangs and claws too deeply. These thoughts might reveal lurking images in the sub-basement brain;)
Looks to be another cold beautiful day here in the Hudson Valley.
Keep warm,
am:)
A Poor Imitation
Months ago, my son had asked me if I could recreate a painting for him. The particular artwork in question – he’d decided long ago – was his favorite of all time. Since I’d painted a picture of fish for his sister, I told him I’d create art for him too. The painting he wanted had been living as a blurry photo on his phone for quite some time. He’d seen the art – years ago – hanging on the wall of a restaurant.
Neither Max or I were able to locate a decent reference image – my son’s photo was so blurry in fact, I saw nothing but white in the air and dark lumps on the ground. My son’s description from memory was “men on horses and some cabins.” We went as far as returning to the restaurant (under new ownership for several years) and inquiring about the painting that had once hung on their far left wall.
Now I’ll tell you, I don’t like painting landscapes – I never have – meaning – I’ve avoided them my entire life – so my best attempts at recreating any are fake – I muddle my way through in an effort to get something close to the needle of credibility. The painting above is the result – my son – of course – loves it – because his mom made it for him. Any artist looking at this might smile and keep the honest review beneath the tongue.
And, as karma so often intervenes, months after I’d finished the painting, Max and I walked 2 blocks from the house to get coffee. The coffee-bar’s proprietor was a collector of books, art, antiques…and when we showed him the photo of my painting – he immediately knew whose artwork I’d been trying to recreate (in fact – the framed reproduction below was actually in another room of his coffee bar)- dang – was I off.
The Last Cantonment, 1783 – John F. Gould
John Fleming Gould (1906-1996) graduated from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, NY, and later instructed at Pratt for 22 years. He was a prominent illustrator for the Saturday Evening Post for more than 8 years. Many of Mr. Gould’s works hang in private collections. He was partial to historical subjects, especially in the Hudson River Valley from the Statue of Liberty to Albany, NY.
I’ve provided more visual snow for some of you. who don’t really need to see anymore snow.
I hope you’re all keeping warm,
am:)
anntogether 