LAST CALL…

The Dancer stood. Then moved toward the floor. No need for another. The music moved The Dancer. Along with the others. In confident directions. Last dance. Last call.                                

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FALLING INTO BED…

FALLING INTO BED "And some artists try to make something out of nothing, order out of chaos, demanding of themselves that they ably communicate structure and composition, colour and balance, and that each piece they create serve to communicate a predetermined issue as well. A piece of art asks people to stop and look in... Continue Reading →

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SHOW ME THE…

BRAE TOFTS One dollar. Every three years. For the past 25 years. I’ve been paid one dollar, every three years for the past 25 years to move house. I’ve packed my pets and belongings and moved house. To a new house. Different part of the city, same state. Different neighbourhood. It didn’t take me long... Continue Reading →

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FISHING FOR WORDS…

PESCE The Reader looks more than dubious that somehow I can connect fishing for words to the watercoloured fish on a platter surrounded with leafy, green things, yellow-ish squiggles and red rounds that may or may not look like small, yet delicious potatoes. I can't so I won't. No surprise there, The Reader smirks. Very... Continue Reading →

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A DOG STORY ABOUT A BOOK OR A BOOK STORY ABOUT A BOOK…

                                     A WORK IN PROGRESS... Note:  My grand-daughter just celebrated her 13th birthday. I know, I know. I didn't think I was old enough to have a thirteen year old grand child...and I'm not. Not really. But while My Reader debates the above "not old enough" statement,  please read the letter I sent to My... Continue Reading →

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WHETHER REPORT…

                                                                        BIRD IN A BOWL Funny thing about that weather. Yesterday on the half-past five morning first dog walk of the day the weather was clear-skied, star-studded crisp and thirty-three degrees. Then again, at the morning nine o'clock second dog walk... Continue Reading →

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WHERE THE ROAD GOES…

Normally, I’ve been reluctant to besiege My Reader with facts, that particular part of my art researching profession that requires accuracy closely bordering the edge of boredom. However, just this once and feeling safe in the “historical fact” arena because I’ve taken liberal liberties with wording and comments…the curious art researcher and enquiring mind bubbled... Continue Reading →

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ABOUT FORGETTING…

  This is how it goes, usually… 1 January – take down Christmas tree. Pack. Store.   This is how it went… 26 December – Christmas tree down. Packed. Stored. Five-day head start on usual Christmas tree take-down. Forget January. Early. Easy. Done. Forgotten. Bliss. Thirty-one plus five extra days of forgetful bliss. Thirty-one plus... Continue Reading →

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  At first it was curiosity and wondering about a word. Then mental machinations and mindless wanderings took the high road and soon profound curiosity became a fever-pitched research obsession. It was all about a word, and the word was G-R-E-A-T-N-E-S-S. A good word GREATNESS. A great word. Greatness (n.): from the adjective GREAT to... Continue Reading →

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“What a strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, the other forward. The one is of Today, the other is the Tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.”                                               Grandmas Moses, primitive painter RED CHAIR                                                    

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"Day after day, day after day We stuck, nor breath nor motion As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean." The Rime of the Ancient Mariner  Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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ONE DAY LIKE THIS…

 Do you ever find it difficult to put into words…words that capture the event…that do justice to every sensory, audible and emotion felt? Can you convey, really convey what happened? Can you describe the experience as whole and not just parts of the whole?  Can you adequately describe what the mind imprinted, and what now... Continue Reading →

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OUR BENCH…

What can you write about…a bench? Why would you write about a bench? It is  something you sit on. It comes in all shapes, sizes, and materials. Bench. Ordinary. You can sit on a bench alone. With a friend. With many friends. Old and young. With strangers. Old or young. Benches can be found…anywhere. In... Continue Reading →

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The great and the bad

A Certain Line

IMG_20180322_133633_830.jpgLife Drawing (Drawing of Blue King) (A2) 2018

The National Gallery of Art in Washington has indefinitely postponed a Chuck Close retrospective because of allegations of sexual harassment. The 77 year old paraplegic artist is alleged to have made inappropriate remarks about the bodies and sexual activities of women he invited to his studio to pose, allegations which he largely denies. Other museums, including the MoMA in NYC and the Tate Modern in London, are considering what to do about the works in their collections.

Recently, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston opened an exhibition of Egon Schiele’s work with new wall labels addressing the fact that Schiele was arrested for the kidnapping and statutory rape of a 13-year-old girl. He was acquitted but was eventually found guilty of “immorality” because the girl had seen some of his nude works in his studio. “Wall labels in the exhibition…

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Dear Mr President (POEM)

MEYERED MARBLE

It is curious, is it not, how others find us via our posts in the round-about-traffic, that interchange between and beyond you and me, and me and you, and you? What makes Ellie’s POEM of consequence to me?

I’ve begun to wonder what “kids”* think about as they look toward tomorrow. Their future. *(Kids defined loosely and to include all those “youngsters” who look twelve years old but now have college degrees and/or careers, and/or work in professional or semi-professional fields of endeavour, and just may be your physician.)

Question: do they even give-a-toss about the consequences of decisions being made today, in and on their behalf,  by governments (all governments, if you will) that affect their future and will have a lasting effect on their own future decisions?

Answer: Obviously yes.

Thank you, Ellie.

Ellie's Blog

It’s not real, it’s a conspiracy, it just doesn’t exist.
A concept created by China to destroy the US.
It’s a complete delusion and irresponsible too,
To spread propaganda and call it “Fake news”.

With higher altitudes it’ll effect you last,
Higher tides, a lack of drinking water, it’ll be slightly warmer.
Meanwhile we’ve lost Fiji it’s been reclaimed by water.

When you accept and acknowledge that the problem is there,
And it’s a lot more real than your fake head of hair.
Then we can finally get together to right our wrongs,
I would hate to imagine if we waited too long.

So with water levels rising and the earth’s surface heating up,
Two more degrees and basically we’re fucked.
If that’s all that stands between us and total destruction,
The last thing we needed was your deduction.
By leaving an agreement that was meant to start the healing,

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Suffer the children

Michael and I have never met. We live land masses and an ocean aprt. I know him through his art, see him through his eyes, and can feel him through his brave, brave heart. Michael’s thoughts speak to me, his words speak for me…..

A Certain Line

Refugees (20 cms x 40 cms charcoal and pastel 2016)

It’s always the children, isn’t it? It’s always the kids who get it.

When the strutting despot, Putin, decides to help out his old pal, genocidal tyrant Bashar Al-Assad, before too long hospitals and schools and aid convoys are bombed; the UN Security Council gets angry and the usual suspects play their veto cards like this is some bizarre game where the person who wins is the one who does the least. Before you know it, Iran is implicated. The EU discusses sanctions but somehow nothing happens. The British government says it’s OK to sell fighter planes to countries where human rights mean even less than women’s rights. Refugees pour over borders and citizens panic: far right-wingers make a play for government by stoking up fear and dread in the electorate. Desperate people cram boats made of scrap metal and…

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