Saturday, January 17, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
The colors in the photo are not as vibrant as the real painting. Another challenge to living in the NE of the US.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Edward Estlin Cummings, commonly known as E. E. Cummings, was a groundbreaking poet and painter. He was from Cambridge Massachusetts, and most of his poems were free verse and on the subject of nature, romance, life, or death. E.E. was an expert at ignoring convention. Grammar and syntax were not used properly by Cummings (gasp!), but were struck down and reused in an unorthodox manner for dramatic visual effect.
He often broke individual words into pieces and rearranged them in a seemingly insane way, but there was a method to his madness. In this way, he was absolutely revolutionary. His poems often show a careful consideration for the movement of the reader’s eyes, and a deep understanding of the individual letters that make up the words of his poems.
As a painter, he brought his love of representational art to the poetry page. I’m sharing his poem “The sky was” because it’s a good example of what I like to call his “poetry paintings.” In this short poem, the text reads much like a painting would... if you could read a painting. ;)
The actual words, if you were to strip the poem down, and blankly read it out loud (the horror!) are as follows: “The sky was candy luminous edible spry pinks shy lemons greens coo1 chocolates under a locomotive spouting violets.” Those words create a beautiful description of a sunset. It’s the type of half-crazed passionate descriptions that are typical for a Cummings poem.
The reader can almost see him, with his eyes bugged out, excitedly throwing his arms in the air as he describes the wonder of a sunset. However, Cummings takes it further than just using descriptive words. He forces the reader to feel dizzy in wonder, as well.
Have you ever watched a sunset, taking in the different shades of color here and there, and types of clouds in the sky, and realized that your eyes were dancing around so much that you’re starting to feel a little nauseous?
“That purple cloud at the horizon is breathtaking, and the pink ones near the trees are shaped like a train, and the yellow wispy clouds over there are really beautiful, and over here if looks like....”
The way E. E. used syntax, in a scattered and billowing way, forces your eyes to dance across the sunset in wonder with him. He takes you not just into a description of the sunset, but makes you physically look back and forth at his description. There’s something really special about taking representational art, and meshing it with poetry. I love when different styles of art mix. :)
Be back soon!
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Painted in oil on a 12 x9 inch gallery wrap canvas.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Thursday, January 8, 2015
The Quabbin Reservoir is one of the largest manmade public water supplies in the United States. Located in western Massachusetts, It is the primary source of drinking water for over 2 million people. My brother lives a short drive from there, and often takes advantage of the serene landscape. Yesterday, my mom made this oil painting based on one of his more snowy photographs of the reservoir. I love it.
I was there last Autumn with my family, and the pristine grounds were breathtaking. Because it is a major source of drinking water, the purity of the water is heavily protected. The 181 miles of shoreline can be viewed from a distance but not touched, dogs are prohibited from the park, and local seagulls are harassed by professionals to keep them from polluting the water. If you think that last part was a snarky joke, check out the photograph I took when I visited.
In short: The Quabbin Reservoir is my number one choice for when the zombie apocalypse begins. There is an abundance of fresh water, the grounds are protected, there is access to pyrotechnics, seagulls could be hunted for food (I'd prefer tofu but survivors can't be choosers), and the surrounding wooded area is the perfect place to find shelter, berries, and firewood.
We don't have a very wide readership of this blog, so I can write this. If you'd like to join me when the dead rise from the grave, you can meet me there. But don't bring too many friends. I'm not being anti-social, it's a simple survival strategy.
I'm going to want a relatively small, but strong group of survivors. It's common sense that the larger your group, the greater the risk of a widespread outbreak within your group. Also, in the apocalypse you have to fear the living. Ahem. I think I miss The Walking Dead...
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
Painted in oil on an 8x10 gallery wrapped canvas.
Monday, January 5, 2015
So I painted color. Keeps my hand out of the cookie jar.