at the end of the hallway- 'eva' floats on a table- looking out a window towards the ocean- she has her right shoulder to us- below her are three native s with shawls and they are watching the sunset- the piece below them is a story written about soul retrievlal and shredded like a curtain on a cow barn- children walk up to it and re-arrange it
last week a little girl put a candle in there-
the week before sylvester- the stuffed cartoon character
art drips off the ether in various forms and shapes-= yesterday-a bag of colored pencils for 50cents at a country garage sale
would seem that ART would lie to be penciled in for lunch- that his 'people' want to get with 'my people'
so different is this territory it includes every climate- every mood, every hormonal episode- every passionate detail- and then perhaps nothing will come of it- or it will take over-saturate and dominate existance- like bondage it is the heat of the fire which spawns yet another child of an entirely different breed- or it will be an exact copy of some creative force that has not identified itself- a lover with no name-
allowing the artist to toy with the horizon- with the agile and fragile minds of human beings- to send a love with in to purposefully and intentionally open the minds and hearts of maybe even one person- if not the artist -but this is not a hobby- it is as vital to one who is aflicted with this particular obsession to create - there isnt much room for anything else- although given the chance- art supplies for miles- fill many with smiles- that torch crack- the smell of melting metals- the shapes of postive and negative space- the sun- incense- wild flowers and open fields= those eyes that will never close= even while dreaming there is something awake and alve and it cannot die- dormant ideas come to life- the coffee got cold- alas art is here- big welcoming kiss-
the artist mind
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the artist mind
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
Re: the artist mind
wow - that topped reading JD Salinger by a stretch or two - i think your smile got loose - and I love this kind of talk anyway 'specially backed by enthusiasm - ha, enjoyed!
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
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Re: the artist mind
thanks- i guess on the way to where i am going i am looking out of the bus windows-
reason is over rated, as is logic and common sense-i much prefer the passions of a crazy old woman, cats and dogs and jungle foliage- tropic rain-and a defined sense of who brings the stars up at night and the sun up in the morning---
Re: the artist mind
In that case, long live the bus !
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
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