All posts filed under: Art

Free Spirit

Wildflower at heart, Uncultivated and pure, Longing for someone near. Free spirit, Soul dancing in the wind— To songs of love, Once whispered in her ear. I’m taking a short break from the Alphabet… I guess I’m feeling a little burnout. It was refreshing to do something different. I am not a creature of habit, that’s for sure. Anyway, I had fun working on some art… another fuchsia transformation. It’s a little more dramatic now—and a lot less pink—and it was the inspiration for my poetry. I hope you enjoyed it! 🙂 Until next time,Peace & love!

The Excursion

This morning I drove into Pasadena. It wasn’t a major excursion, but it was in the opposite direction of where I normally travel and everything was unfamiliar. I wish I had taken my camera. It’s the perfect place for street photography, but it was just TOO hot! I wanted to get in—and get out. I went there to pick up the kit for my drawing class. I’m already enjoying the course. It’s not so much that I’ve learned anything yet (it’s only been two days), or that I even see the possibility of getting really good at it. It’s the fact that I’m putting aside my fear, putting the pencil to the pad, and making an effort.

Magical Moon

Magical moonlight, Bidding the sunset adieu, Lighting up the night. I’ve been playing with the moon tonight. It’s not what I intended at all. I sat down to create something with a dancer, and somewhere between snacks and a movie… everything changed. That’s a wild Friday night for you. 😉 Peace & Love!

Karma

Whatever goes up, will surely come down; Like a boomerang, it just all goes around. You get what you give, or reap what you sow; If hate’s what you plant, then hate’s what will grow. If you want to see change; if love’s what you thirst, Be bold with your kindness… Dare to go first.

On the Edge

I think the definition of artist is a bit enigmatic. I’ve never called myself an artist. I’ve said things like “this is some art I created,” or “I love to create art,” but that’s as far as it goes. I think the first explanation that pops into my head is the fact that I don’t use pencils, pens, or even brushes (although that may change after the new semester).

Sacred Space

Petals of white satin guard the stairway. As I make my way up, their feathery ends sway in the wind, draping the earth like a wedding gown train. Pillars of amber rise above the entrance to touch the sky. As I enter and take a seat, I see soft silk brushes, painting the clouds with gold. I am in awe, and then suddenly I realize… I am home.