PART TWO…

THE CHILD It was a whirl-wind romance fraught with complications. No one knows for sure because no one talked even though asked...but The Child could surmise the complication was a drunken night on the town with him shipping out the next day to fight the end of a war, and her rebounding from a heartbroken,... Continue Reading →

THE OCCASION…

CHAIR WITH MAN   A reunion of as many siblings who could make the journey. It wasn't as long-planned as it was necessary. For some, those left who could still journey, came in great anticipation of sibling camaraderie, retelling and reliving memories, softening sibling youthful blows and jabs, but mostly an attempt to tamp down... Continue Reading →

ROBETI…

GIRL WITH CHAIR   He is sitting on the rim of a wood planter box that houses a smallish palm tree providing no shade on this warm day, and looking away from where I am standing. My camera is a second away from capturing this perfect shot. An image photograph for a potential sketch. One... Continue Reading →

WALRUS WISDOM…

TALK TALK TALK   "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes - and ships - and sealing-wax Of cabbages - and kings - And why the sea is boiling hot - And whether pigs have wings." Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, Ch. 4        

EASY ON THE AYES…

PENN'S TABLE                    Watercolour by RRiederMy Reader says I've been reading too much. Reading and listening to the daily news, overhearing conversations, listening to opinions from all sides, some aloud some silent but seen face-on just the same. There's something to be said about that, but you won't hear it directly from me nor My Reader.... Continue Reading →

DAD…

DH IMAGINED   He asked when can I meet you? How about I deliver myself to you on my thirty-ninth birthday? Chuckle. Then, he said...perfect. Seems like forever ago when we walked up to each other for the very first time. He looked at me and I him. What I saw for the first time...my... Continue Reading →

NOT FIGS…

MANDARINS   Isn't this just the berries? Actually, not berried at all...more like fruit-looped, but no matter. It's great to be on the other-side of winter. The easel in the studio remains occupied and work honing watercolour skill and hoping to find that sweet-sweet place of satisfaction is the continuum.  It is the forever hope... Continue Reading →

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.                                

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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NOT MY WORDS…

LAPIN BLEAU via Thoughts on Integrity Sometimes words spoken or written by others hit a nerve, make a point, provoke, and not just a mere thought but myriads of thoughts....that are too important to ignore. Angst, about when the sky will finally fall, real or imagined, is palpable. This is not about Chicken Little. This... Continue Reading →

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 →

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 →

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.

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 apart. 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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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 →

Miracle. All of It.

Our place and space in this World is no more nor less important (or threatened and encroached upon) than the societal nature of…Nature itself. Can we protect and provide? Yes. We. Can.

Live & Learn

elephant-city

If you were an elephant living wild in a western city…

  • You’d have one two-fingered hand swinging from your face – a hand as sensitive as tumescent genitals, but which could smash a wall or pick a cherry. With that hand you’d explore your best friends’ mouths, just for the sake of friendship.
  • you’d smell water two miles away and the flowers at your feet
  • Grumbles from trucks and cabs would shudder through the toxic ground, tickle the lamellar corpuscles in your feet and ricochet up your bones…You’d hear with your feet, and your femurs would be microphones
  • As you walked 10 miles for your breakfast you’d chatter with your friends in 10 octaves
  • You’d have the happiest kind of political system, run by wise old women, appointed for their knowledge of the world and their judgment, uninterested in hierarchy for hierarchy’s sake, and seeking the greatest good for the greatest…

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PASS THE PEAS…

PASS THE PEAS Obtuse comment from My Reader: "It is about time...!"  Personally, I had hoped that 2016 was going to be a banner year for the whole lot of us. However, it looks as if the result on several particular outcomes,  just two mentioned...Brexit and Mr. T...has snapped more than garters, and left more... Continue Reading →

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