Tag Archives: art

Learn The Rules Like A Pro So You Can Break Them Like An Artist.

Describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty – describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, don’t blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poet to call forth its riches; because for the creator, there is no poverty and no poor, indifferent place. And even if you found yourself in some prison, whose walls let in none of the world’s sounds – wouldn’t you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories? Turn your attention to it. Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance. – And if out of this turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, then you will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not. Nor will you try to interest magazines in these works: for you will see them as your dear natural possession, a piece of your life, a voice from it. A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke

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The Sweet Sound Of Basil

It must have felt woefully out of place

like the refugee placing a bowl of water safely

on his windowsill, front row seats

the spectacle: the moon reflects a stolen

memory

 

Also peculiar, the soul whose words want

so badly, but don’t answer to the self-portrait of

kings, whilst these fingertips understandably

caress: the land cannot belong, the land longs to be

rooted

 

That’s how we became the gardener and his basil

green power in between

Our sound is loud and clearly

wickedly misplaced.

 

(My only son K, wrote this poem)

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Observe

That’s what I do (automatically) observe people and surroundings. I can assess situations in mere seconds and draw my conclusion from what’s before me. I see the big picture in one glance and miss nothing. Being an Empath I see more and feel more, therefore, learn more. Words mean nothing to me. It’s the body language and tone of voice I focus on to determine with whom I am dealing with. That and my instinct which up to now never fails me yet.

Even in a relaxed environment and situation I never stop observing and absorbing scenes. People fascinate me in a lot of ways, their relationships with others and their surroundings, and the manners they choose to express their personal tastes and preferences revealing their true characters and what’s going on under the surface. But most of all I admire their beauties from an artist’s point of view. The tilt of the chin, the way the eyes look in certain lights, the cheekbones, and the facial expressions, the colors of the hair when the sun rays hit the strands, freckles over the nose bridge, things like that. What beautiful for me may not be so for the others since beauty is subjective. Let’s put it this way: If a subject caught my attention, that says enough. If it keeps me interested for more than five minutes that’s already a record, but if I want to capture their image through photography or on canvas, that means I’m impressed.

I can’t say this enough: I am not particularly fond of people on a more personal basis but they are my never-ending source of inspiration for my crafts. Them and life itself. 

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Out of This World

Last Autumn I was passing by the neighborhood park during one of my daily walks and I was pleasantly surprised to see that they decorated the place with multicolored lights and otherworldly works of art. It had given the place an eerie atmosphere which is far from its usual subdued state. I was amused. 

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Tour Guide

I live somewhere in Europe and as you know the continent is full of beautiful places, historical buildings, breathtaking landscapes and awe-inspiring nature. I could have chosen any of those but I thought which of those you have never seen before? And after a time landmarks tend to either look like or blend with each other or become so familiar people just scroll down when they see them. 

So, today I have chosen a unique piece of art I bet most of you didn’t behold yet.

It was a chance encounter. Not even in my wildest dream, I thought I will find it where it is__ in the middle of nowhere. While hiking I saw it from a distance and I thought: “What is that???” It appears and disappears from view. When you see it you’ll understand what I mean. You see… it looks like this:

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The way it was constructed fascinates me endlessly. I’ve never seen something quite like it before.

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When you look up it looks like this:

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Amazing isn’t it?   

They call it Reading Between The Lines Church and located in the city of Borgloon in the province of Limburg.

Brilliant

In my country of birth, we have a folklore that goes like this:

One day God was feeling lonely he decided to create something in his own likeness so he set up a fire and started fashioning humans from clay. Satisfied with what he had made he proceeded to bake them in the fire. While cooking, some urgent matter called his attention back to heaven and he forgot all about them. When he finally remembered it was too late, his first batch of images was burned. He decided to keep them anyway and that’s how the black people were born.

Not giving up easily, God decided to try again. This time out of fear he removed his group of new sculptures from the fire a lot earlier than he supposed to do so he ended up with underdone figures that were barely colored. Again like the first group he keeps them. And that’s how Caucasian people came into being. 

A firm believer of the saying third time’s the charm, God decided to try once more. This time he stayed close to the fire eyeing his creations like a hawk, turning them around ever so often so it baked evenly on all sides. When he was satisfied with his work and thought he could not do more or better, he took them off from the fire. And there it was, a batch of perfectly baked golden brown likeness of him. And that’s how we, Asians came to exist. 

What do you think folks? Isn’t it a brilliant story? Take it with a grain (a bucketful if necessary) of salt. It’s only a folklore. I bet each country has their own version of it. 

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