Storms Brewing

My artwork is taking a turn. Between the shadows of legends before, to the current victories made by younger and upcoming artists, I am living in a reflection of constant NOW. There's a feeling of "so close" and yet it constantly stays just out of reach.

Recently I've revisited one of my favorite poets, Patti Smith. It wasn't a lack of naivete or strength of overwhelming knowledge, but yet a comfort of knowing the unknown to try and know. To know What? To know, that's all you or I ever needed to know. The ability to form words, words into songs, or plainly written in ink on dried tree pulp to move thousands of people in all walks of life...this was the conscious living of Patti. This all links together, just hang in there.

Then there's this new artist, new to me, I read about today on AOL's website named Zena Holloway. Here's a woman who started traveling the seas at 18 as a diving instructor and through the years has honed in on her photography skills to create immaculate underwater images. Something yet to strive for. Immersion into a constant changing and altering mass such as water is a breath-taking endeavor when you look into her images.

Before I venture too much further into my mind and leave you by the blogger roadside I want to wrap this up. Between the known of Patti and the unknown of the sea there's an understanding and explanation waiting to happen.

I am feeling the wait disperse from my skin and accepting the cool & fresh feeling of NEW art flow out of me. Definition in new forms, art in new directions. Past to present, as we all know links us, one by one, is ever-present in today's knowledge of what WILL be.

I probably should...

But mama said I shouldn't. Here are old journal entries from years past. I've been wanting to self publish these for years. There was an idea behind the publish, but for now I'll just chalk it up to sharing. I realize that family may be seeing some of this art for the first time and I want them to know I'm only as sound in mind as they want me to be in their own. I've been writing in journals/diaries/logs since the early age of 6 years old. I recently found evidence of my writing as a child and maybe one day we'll all benefit from the humor of misspellings and frivolous thoughts on love or mean teachers. Until then, here are some more recent past explosions of thought.

Descriptions Of a Moment

Twigs are twined

Bubbles are beaten

Desired dress dishabille

Grapes wound

Tongues eaten

Thoughts are fish-able

Tangled peck

Redwood word

Settled on another saddle

Songs sung a wreck

Among leave's bird

Moments thoughts and cradle

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All the voices, east of Omaha, the chance to live your life without the gravity of.

Witness to winds and a hummingbird on a branch, finally still. Fluttering for hours, but chose me to sit calmly in front of. Thirty five-mile an hour winds and there it sits calm as a librarian in the sanctuary of her own thoughts. How nature lends us the moments to observe, reflect, and project. A calm before the storm you might say, but the lesson was simplified. On the wind or in the wind. Forever captured in color.

Just as the hummingbird stopped the labyrinth walls climb. Not moving in time, but revealing with all its' might its' power and grace. To dare and climb inside and take a closer look...what I found was unbelievable. Some say it is like a staircase, other's imagine an organized pattern within its' tangled weave. The skin of the branches define as they climb to reach something they can only feed from. To receive life, but to never touch the thing that gives it to you. Still, in a moment, a reoccurring theme, and a limitless thought.

Function, Feeling, Focus, and Found.