“Entries from many countries across the world: South Korea, Hong Kong, Ukraine, USA, Taiwan, Austria, Italy, Canada, Poland, Singapore, South Africa and Portugal. Enjoy the show and thank you for expressing an interest in our competition.”
I have often been afraid or uneasy or did not believe in competition. The means of doing anything is an obligation I took for myself and the world a long time ago. Acknowledgement is a new feeling for me, and I like it.
What really turns me on here is that so many countries unite through sharing their art in a competition without hate or dismay. That the world can join here in peace and beauty and reflection.
This is so good. That is why I love my WordPress site. It lets individuals communicate all around the world. Communication is the key to peace and though we can get angry, expression is always best. Creative expression is our superior and the best of human nature.
* I placed as a Finalist in the April 2023 Competition. So much art… yet the renegotiation is satisfying. Below is the inspiration. A quote from a book.
“One day, having noticed my covetous gaze, he presented me with a tiny golden pendant of my own-two bees entwined together around a tiny honeycomb. It glistened in the sun light, so rich and burnished that I thought the minute drop of honey would melt and slide away in the heat.”
Daedalus gives Ariadne a gift. ~ Ariadne Page 7, by Jennifer Saint.
It says pencil in the competition. It is pencil, sharpie pen ink and watercolor.
“I have a different idea of elegance. I don’t dress like a fop, it’s true, but my moral grooming is impeccable. I never appear in public with a soiled conscience, a tarnished honor, threadbare scruples, or an insult that I haven’t washed away. I’m always immaculately clean, adorned with independence and frankness. I may not cut a stylish figure, but I hold my soul erect. I wear my deeds as ribbons, my wit is sharper than the finest mustache, and when I walk among men, I make truths ring like spurs.”
― Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac
Years ago, when I read Cyrano de Bergerac, I have attended to his words with passion. It makes it hard for me to dress. But I dress in a comfortable honest fashion. Since I was a child, I have always loved boots, hats, and jackets.
Always containing and holding the passion of my soul within them. Until I read Rostand’s book, I never knew that there was someone else that saw fashion as I do. Words too are a type of clothing for me with the same regards as “I hold my soul erect.”
The creative process as well. Ideas and passions are “deeds as ribbons.” I tend to make a mockery of what is cool or fashionably beautiful. “Threadbare scruples, or an insult that I haven’t washed away.”
Green or black tennis shoes, straight leg pants and t-shirts and my Jester outfits hanging in my closet are my “different idea of elegance.” Inside me are goals that do not aspire to the latest fashions but instead inspire to the sensations of my mind, heart, and soul.
I have been thinking about William Blake a lot lately. If I could address the inspiration of his “thought body” and “creative soul,” I would dress like him because this is what pulls me. The perfection of his creative dress. I ponder on this and think about how it might be possible to dress to that place of his soul? To be covered by such a sensational creative sense of fashion?
“Blake was not just the author. He also illustrated it, engraved the entire text and the pictures by hand on copper plates, printed it, and hand-colored every copy so that no two were alike. He had even developed the process by which his books were produced and had prepared his own paints.” *
Sad to say here I do dress like a “Fop.”
Yet I am trying to better myself. You see Blake and Bergerac inspire me to make my “truths ring like spurs.” Did I get that right…??
This little creature has the power to sustain fire! Symbolically it is standing tall within the fires of life!
As a totem symbol, that runs throughout many cultures, it is a remarkable one!
Alchemically it is the power of fiery reactions and used with cool water to make steam!
I captured this image over the rooftop of our neighbor’s home across the street. It came so close ! I call this the Woolsey fire Monster! In the center of the fire light I caught this terrible image. Yes we endured a terrifying time ! Trucks were packed up and cats were ready … we were lucky!
The Woolsey Fire was a wildfire that burned in Los Angeles and Ventura Counties of the U.S. state of California. The fire ignited on November 8, 2018.
— in West Hills.
Also known to be by Catherine Blake is this small watercolour, known as: Head “taken from something she saw in the Fire.” 9.7cm x 12.0 cm. It is also from the estate of Geoffrey Keynes, and kept at Fitzwilliam, Cambridge (not on display)
Catherine Blake (née Boucher; 25 April 1762 – 18 October 1831) was the wife of the poet, painter and engraver William Blake, and a vital presence and assistant throughout his life.
Title/s Head ‘taken from something she saw in the fire’ Maker/s : Blake, Catherine (draughtsman) [ULAN info: British painter, 1762-1831] Category: drawing Name : drawing School/Style : British Technique Description : watercolour on paper Dimensions height: 97 mm width: 120 mm Material/s watercolour (medium) paper (support) Accession Number PD.158-1985 (Paintings, Drawings and Prints) (Reference Number: 8853; Input Date: 2000-06-29 / Last Edit: 2010-06-07)
Whether Ishtar, Persephone, ancient Eleusinian Mysteries, Aphrodite, Hera or Mary mother of Christ, to name a few Goddesses and their symbolic mysteries, the pomegranate is always there.
While talking at the current opening reception of “Plan B” presented by The Haggus Society, curator Terri Lloyd, artist Liz Huston and I were talking about the round bumpy red pomegranate. A simple fruit that symbolizes deep mysteries handed down through the ages. Terri mentioned that it represents transformation. I was touched by our conversation. My conversation at the Haggus exhibit helped me realize that I am not alone in my insight and intuitive understanding. Maybe this is what initiation is all about?
I remember years back when I had a similar conversation with a religious studies professor at California State University Northridge. I made this connection between the ancient symbol of fruit, Goddesses and Mary. My professor said that it was highly symbolic. He told me that there is, most likely, no relativity to be found there. I was hurt! I also learned that some professors are ignorant and should not be teaching.
Riding the bus from Van Nuys to CSUN, I was often filled with these types of insights. The late 1990’s did not give me the opportunity to bring forth my thoughts as I am doing now. I am happy about this!! A living Mystery! My intuitive self was right on the whole time. What a blessing!!
Sandro Botticelli marvelous painting shows Mary and child. She is holding a pomegranate .
Botticelli and Madonna Pomegranate.1487
As a religious studies major I’ve come to see that many cultures and religions have the same connections, sometimes as simple as a piece of fruit.
The pomegranate has been thrown around, here and there, thought out the centuries, always showing up in different places…art, literature and science!! A symbol that creatively whispers to our collective unconscious.
Years ago, one bright morning, I found a copy of a Botticelli painting in the trash. A copy of the painting was included in a large religious calendar. The calendar included twelve paintings of Mary. I was walking son to elementary school when we saw it leaning on someone’s trash can. It was still in good shape. It also was a year old, 1998. I took the calendar home and kept the calendar for years.
So go eat one. It may tell you something? Dissect it. Or better yet, go paint a picture of a pomegranate! Hold a hand full of reddish seeds and tell me what you think??
“Beautiful indeed is the Mystery given us by the blessed gods: death is for mortals no longer an evil, but a blessing ~ Inscription found at Eleusis”
Sammel Angus, The Mystery Religious and Christianity (London 1925,) 140: Mysteries of the Dark Moon- Demetra George
I am presenting for purchase four watercolor paintings:
1. Cromemantis
Life, death and rebirth is what the Praying Mantis teaches me. We have formed a relationship over the years. Each year in my garden the many small perfectly formed baby mantis come to my garden each spring. The mantis matures through the summer months. In August the big golden green mama mantis lays her egg sack. Then she dies. The continuity of life comes forth again next spring. In this watercolor painting I capture the essence of Cronemantis’s charm and beauty. She shows off her wings in the glow of moon phases within her flower garden.
2. Sunflower Soul
The sunflower symbolically represents the soul or solar plexus. The harvest time of experience and adventure. Pomegranates balance out this watercolor painting with the memories of youth and fun at the end of summer. Heading to the hill to pull the fruit from the trees to eat the jeweled sweets.
3. Praying Mantis Mandala
The colors in this watercolor painting blends colors of flowers and the Praying Mantis. This symbolizes my reverence for nature.
4. Baubo Protagonist
Baubo’s myth and archetypal archaic knowledge is symbolically shared in this cartoon magazine cover. A new twist on Flower Power. When Demeter lost her daughter Persephone to the underworld she is deep in grief. It is Demeter’s maid servant that pulls up her skirt exposing herself. Naked below, Baubo, made Demeter laugh. Baubo Protagonist transforms! As a woman, as a flower pollinating humanity with the thoughts of equality and love. Men are transformed by her mighty power!! She is awesome glorious in her nakedness! Lampoonery!! A Flopside Comic production.
Now autumn’s breeze blows summer’s leaves through my life Twisted and broken dawn, no days with sunlight The dying spark, you left your mark on me The promise of your kiss, but with someone else For the bitterest pill is mine to swallow.
~ The Jam.
The Plague Hospital, Fransisco de Goya
Once I knew only darkness and stillness… my life was without past or future… but a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness, and my heart leaped to the rapture of living.
~ Helen Keller
This was my first episode to the underworld initiated by a drug’s side effect.
One followed a few years later. Both times I made it back but not without a will of dynamite… I have become wiser. More resilient to the elements of Pluto and his world. He still mocks me, but I understand now what I went through both times is an ancient one and I was never alone but had to do the work myself. It is all about illumination from the darkness to the light.
The Twilight Zone can be pleasant before sunset when the sky sometimes bursts forth with color which should only be part of our dreams. Shadowy faces from light and shadow play move on trees and in corners of our streets.
Glen told me once if you investigate this type of twilight without focus and expand your vision to include your peripheral vision, a world of nature spirits will open to you. One can do this on stormy cloudy days as today.
Yet the twilight zone story that I am going to share is a focus around a character who almost got caught in this place between light and dark, where escape seemed improbably negative. The experience lasted a year.
After a negative reaction to a drug the woman seemed agitated and unable to lie down. She got up and tried to take a shower in her hospital room. Then the thought of running and jumping out the window seemed the logical thing to do. They stopped and sedated her. She was only in the hospital for a normal hospital colonoscopy.
Something went terribly wrong, and she ended up staying in the hospital for two days. Before leaving, a morning nurse accidentally gave her some Prozac. The supervising doctor thought she was crazy. Regardless, without a psychological evaluation the inescapable twilight zone began.
On the couch at home lights moved through her body, she experienced an electrical storm shooting up and down her spine. Anxiety crept up around her as a succubus that never left her side; He stretched out a large woven black sheet above her. It rested above the trees and over her life. Always waiting for something to come… she felt the twilight zone ever-present.
“She said to the nurse on the phone,
“Nurse I am so anxious; I think I will lose my mind.”
“Take deep breaths. A powerful drug has been released into your body.”
The battle for her mind began; throwing away all prescription drugs from stupid doctors: that made her feel crazy and in the toilet they went. She walked, took homeopathic remedies, herbs and waited for the opaque Madonna to make her first attack. She said to herself, “Will I ever feel normal again?” Her will alone brought her back slowly.
The dark illuminating entity that mocked her unfeeling steps was slowly replaced by light. In her dark mind a knowing grasped her that was just the opposite of a gamma-ray explosion; for it was the core of a cold etching, calculating, scientific, and faithless mind.
Though she could not focus on watching TV for weeks, she slowly began to watch sitcoms. The humor, family problems and stupid antics of Tim Taylor from the series Home Improvement chased the boogie man away. Friendly books off dusty shelves and talking her walks in nature also helped her out of the dark twilight zone.
The feelings of a normal life began to move her. Music, live music, dancing, and beer gave her the gifts of beautiful punk rock rituals! Once again, she felt the loving and beating hearts of her children.
Going to make a Liverwurst sandwich with Roma tomatoes on French bread with mayonnaise and mustard; a couple drips of grape seed oil and vinegar. Salt and pepper and baby I will chase that steamy Pluto away.
I saw her come out after the boys, from that steamy deep place, all I could do was shake my head…knowing that she was a friend. I saw the steam come up and her t-shirt was damp. How many guys from the band came out of there? Who knows…?
Dreams…those dreams can be washed away with a film, food and a cup of Coffee . My libido is somewhere down there. Up here I don’t want to exercise or talk romance… maybe a few hours in the garden will chase steamy Pluto away.
The saxophone and the xylophone move baby move me into the cool zone…
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