Scenes I've captured in my mind grow more beautiful with age, and were I to have a picture or capture their veneer I would know that they could never be more than that two dimensional box of canvas, paper, or photograph. Their scene would be forever preserved in that box and I could never forget; but they would never become more magical than they were when I witnessed the beauty with all my senses. They could never grow as they could if they were remembered with the beautiful, sad impermanence in a vessel incapable of such preciseness that might be found in the lens of a camera or the contrast of color or the sharp line of ink.
So it is always with a heavy heart that I force these beautiful things into such harsh boxes, and force them to become something more or less than they ever really were. But sometimes, it's the only way they can be communicated to others, and to let their beauty spread, and change hearts.
I suppose it's selfish to keep some of these scenes to myself, but whenever I get the feeling that I can reproduce them, I only end up angry and frustrated. I just don't have the heart, and don't know if I ever will.
~Me
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Quote of the mind's painting
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Quote of lines
Pushing the lines along with your fingertips at the behest of half your brain and with random quirks of input from the other half ensures that the form, shape, and cadence of the line you parent holds some mystifying uniqueness that recreations will never capture.
Who could have the heart to erase them knowing they'll never be seen again?
~Me
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, January 04, 2008
Monday, October 15, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
The difference
There is a difference between people who look at some old sewing supplies and see sewing opportunities, and those who look at some old sewing supplies and see the following.
It's always hard to define that difference because that difference perpetually eludes and escapes definition.
Via MAKE
It's always hard to define that difference because that difference perpetually eludes and escapes definition.
Via MAKE
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Composing Lines
Pushing the lines along with your fingertips at the behest of half your brain and with random quirks of input from the other half ensures that the form, shape, and cadence of the line you parent holds some mystifying uniqueness that recreations will never capture.
Who could have the heart to erase them knowing they'll never be seen again?
Who could have the heart to erase them knowing they'll never be seen again?
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Completed mostly free light table
As I said in my earlier post, I wanted to freely obtain a fluorescent light bulb to make this entire project cost-free. I waited, and waited to no avail. (Though I did spot a discarded microwave and coffee maker. Both very tempting...) A different requirement necessitated the purchase of some fluorescent lights, so I bought a 3 pack. So, the light table wasn't completely free; but it was close enough!
It's pretty self-explanatory, but I used some thick posterboard for the base, and hot glued the fixture to the board to keep it from sliding around to places less prepared for the mild temperatures generated by the bulb. I bit a chunk out of the housing for the cord so it would go back together properly.
Seems to be working rather well!
Ain't recycling fun?
It's pretty self-explanatory, but I used some thick posterboard for the base, and hot glued the fixture to the board to keep it from sliding around to places less prepared for the mild temperatures generated by the bulb. I bit a chunk out of the housing for the cord so it would go back together properly.
Seems to be working rather well!
Ain't recycling fun?
Monday, October 23, 2006
Response to Defiant Infidel
Defiant Infidel posted the following comment to my post Dances with Leaves
I began to write my return comment, but the more I wrote, and the more I thought about what DI said; the more all of this seemed important enough to post. I hope he doesn't mind my reproduction of a comment to post for all to see. Things like this renew my faith in the internet as a medium for more than bitching about politics, talking about guns, or other such drivel. Enjoy.
DI,
How you wish you could paint that??? My friend, you've painted that scene into my mind perfectly. What's really amazing is as that picture exists in your mind, it will never exist the same in anyone else's mind. I'd contend that every person who reads your painting sees it even more beautiful than the last, until actually committing your portrait to canvas could only lessen it's magic.
Scenes I've captured in my mind grow more beautiful with age, and were I to have a picture or capture their veneer I would know that they could never be more than that two dimensional box of canvas, paper, or photograph. Their scene would be forever preserved in that box and I could never forget; but they would never become more magical than they were when I witnessed the beauty with all my senses. They could never grow as they could if they were remembered with the beautiful, sad impermanence in a vessel incapable of such preciseness that might be found in the lens of a camera or the contrast of color or the sharp line of ink.
So it is always with a heavy heart that I force these beautiful things into such harsh boxes, and force them to become something more or less than they ever really were. But sometimes, it's the only way they can be communicated to others, and to let their beauty spread, and change hearts.
I suppose it's selfish to keep some of these scenes to myself, but whenever I get the feeling that I can reproduce them, I only end up angry and frustrated. I just don't have the heart, and don't know if I ever will.
Draw it and then paint it, ET. One of my best buddies in Halifax, NS, (who is an astonishingly talented artist) told me once that the picture will always exist in the "mind's eye".
It was the day after I had missed a classic and cherished scenic picture from atop a sand dune in the Arabian desert, at 2AM alone under a full moon. There were camels strewn about below and multiple oil wells with burning flames above their off gas vents. I had just succeeded in sticking a Range Rover on its' frame with all four wheels dangling in air on the pinnacle of the lengthy, highest dune for many miles around. I carefully put the camera on a tripod with the truck in the foreground and used a flash to light the vehicle, then left the lens open for extended, bracketed exposure times to pick up the golden expansive background.
The next day, I learned with great disappointment that there was no film in the camera. How I wish I could paint that. I left the area very soon after, before another full moon and perhaps an opportunity to redeem myself. I have since located the exact (it is very large and distinct) dune using Google Earth, but I know I will never return. So it is mine to keep, but not share.
Use your God given talents to create and share your view with others, my friend. You were permitted the view for a purpose.
I began to write my return comment, but the more I wrote, and the more I thought about what DI said; the more all of this seemed important enough to post. I hope he doesn't mind my reproduction of a comment to post for all to see. Things like this renew my faith in the internet as a medium for more than bitching about politics, talking about guns, or other such drivel. Enjoy.
DI,
How you wish you could paint that??? My friend, you've painted that scene into my mind perfectly. What's really amazing is as that picture exists in your mind, it will never exist the same in anyone else's mind. I'd contend that every person who reads your painting sees it even more beautiful than the last, until actually committing your portrait to canvas could only lessen it's magic.
Scenes I've captured in my mind grow more beautiful with age, and were I to have a picture or capture their veneer I would know that they could never be more than that two dimensional box of canvas, paper, or photograph. Their scene would be forever preserved in that box and I could never forget; but they would never become more magical than they were when I witnessed the beauty with all my senses. They could never grow as they could if they were remembered with the beautiful, sad impermanence in a vessel incapable of such preciseness that might be found in the lens of a camera or the contrast of color or the sharp line of ink.
So it is always with a heavy heart that I force these beautiful things into such harsh boxes, and force them to become something more or less than they ever really were. But sometimes, it's the only way they can be communicated to others, and to let their beauty spread, and change hearts.
I suppose it's selfish to keep some of these scenes to myself, but whenever I get the feeling that I can reproduce them, I only end up angry and frustrated. I just don't have the heart, and don't know if I ever will.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Don't wander off...
Last Sunday at the mall, I was warned, "Don't wander off." (as I am apt to do) I was inspired and put a quick sketch into the small moleskine I keep in my back pocket. As we continued through the mall my mind stuck to the sketch, and I wound up making some additions, and notes to the quick sketch.
Later, when I got to my sketch book at home, I began drawing the scene, and wound up with proportions that required I sketch additions to another page... then another. After staring at my work for a bit, I retired to bed, and dreamt about my scene. The next morning, while thinking nothing of my sketch I picked up my sketch book, and pen, and wound up with another addition to the sketch. I need to get this out of my system.
The more I though about doing a full sketch, the more I saw it as less of a sketch, and more of a painting... This was a problem, because while I'm rather skilled at sketching in pen and pencil, the last time I actually applied color to something was probably in fifth grade summer school... It was a rose, it was water color, and it looked damn good. I know very little about color, and even less about controlling the medium. This was a problem, because this scene demanded color.
I know that in order for me to do the scene justice, I'll have to be skilled with color. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I was forced to dip my toe into paint, (not the recommended method) and I'm surprised at how skittish I am about the prospect.
I'm also a little bothered that I won't get to see the truly finish scene for some time. Oh well; such is art...
Later, when I got to my sketch book at home, I began drawing the scene, and wound up with proportions that required I sketch additions to another page... then another. After staring at my work for a bit, I retired to bed, and dreamt about my scene. The next morning, while thinking nothing of my sketch I picked up my sketch book, and pen, and wound up with another addition to the sketch. I need to get this out of my system.
The more I though about doing a full sketch, the more I saw it as less of a sketch, and more of a painting... This was a problem, because while I'm rather skilled at sketching in pen and pencil, the last time I actually applied color to something was probably in fifth grade summer school... It was a rose, it was water color, and it looked damn good. I know very little about color, and even less about controlling the medium. This was a problem, because this scene demanded color.
I know that in order for me to do the scene justice, I'll have to be skilled with color. I suppose it was only a matter of time before I was forced to dip my toe into paint, (not the recommended method) and I'm surprised at how skittish I am about the prospect.
I'm also a little bothered that I won't get to see the truly finish scene for some time. Oh well; such is art...
Dances with leaves
I hate to get all American Beauty on you guys, but...
A strange thing happened on the way in to work. I got on the offramp and as it was turning, I could see in the empty lane next to me something that amazed me.
It was windy today, and the lane had a bunch of round, flat leaves on it. The wind caught the leaves, and caused them to roll along the lane on their sides. Most seemed to have their stems, and caused them to hop up as they rolled. The sun was barely off to the side, so when the leaves rolled vertically they were black, and randomly flashed orange as they caught the sun. The wind shifted as I drove by and they all changed direction slightly at the same time, like a school of fish, or a group of sparrows.
I had the camera in the car, but there was no way I was going to reach for it, turn it on, take the picture, while the offramp straightened out of the turn. And even if I did; I wouldn't expect it to come out at all. So I just watched the leaves for what seemed like 4 seconds (thinking about it now, there was no way it was 4 seconds; it would have had to be about 2 seconds or less. Though when I replay the scene in my head; it takes 4 seconds)
So as I drove by, in the lane next to me a herd of black and orange dots galloped along the asphalt, and turned away slightly as I drove by.
Thinking about it now, it seems very strange. But at the time; it seemed very magical.
All right, that's enough of that; lets talk about guns, and explosives, and... er... cars!
A strange thing happened on the way in to work. I got on the offramp and as it was turning, I could see in the empty lane next to me something that amazed me.
It was windy today, and the lane had a bunch of round, flat leaves on it. The wind caught the leaves, and caused them to roll along the lane on their sides. Most seemed to have their stems, and caused them to hop up as they rolled. The sun was barely off to the side, so when the leaves rolled vertically they were black, and randomly flashed orange as they caught the sun. The wind shifted as I drove by and they all changed direction slightly at the same time, like a school of fish, or a group of sparrows.
I had the camera in the car, but there was no way I was going to reach for it, turn it on, take the picture, while the offramp straightened out of the turn. And even if I did; I wouldn't expect it to come out at all. So I just watched the leaves for what seemed like 4 seconds (thinking about it now, there was no way it was 4 seconds; it would have had to be about 2 seconds or less. Though when I replay the scene in my head; it takes 4 seconds)
So as I drove by, in the lane next to me a herd of black and orange dots galloped along the asphalt, and turned away slightly as I drove by.
Thinking about it now, it seems very strange. But at the time; it seemed very magical.
All right, that's enough of that; lets talk about guns, and explosives, and... er... cars!
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
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