Posts Tagged ‘art’

The other night, as I was drifting off to sleep, inspiration suddenly hit me.  And I was wide awake thinking and planning and madly tapping ideas into my iPhone while hubby snoozed on beside me. (good thing he’s a heavy-sleeper!)

I want to paint my “plain-Jane-faux-wood-slab” interior doors. But instead of just painting them a solid color (like the traditional white doors of modern day homes), I want to paint designs or nature inspired murals.

Naturally, I have been scouring Pinterest for more inspiration. Have a peek:

 

 

The washed-out blue with the intricate designs on this door is beautiful!

 

 

 

Love, love, love the daisy! {duh!}

 

 

Source: google.nl via Pinterest

 

And this is a pretty amazing mural of a tree house.

 

I love tree-inspired art…I’m thinking golden Aspens would look pretty amazing on my entryway closet door!

Or what about tall, seeded grasses…cattails?!

The possibilities are endless! {If only time was too!}

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my  curly web

{filagree is fun to draw!}

With Autumn quickly approaching now (my young Oak tree in the backyard turned yellow overnight!) – I find myself inspired more and more by the whimsy of fall and Halloween.

This is a small illustration I did based off of a stamp I saw at the art supply store a few weeks back. I snapped a picture with my phone to remind me of my inspiration. I use my phone’s camera All. The. Time. for those little inspiring images that I find while out and about. Otherwise, I think my sketchbook would remain blank!

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flowers
{flowers}

Flowers…pretty self-explanatory, I guess.  I prefer the more wild varieties, like daisies and sunflowers, or a messy mix of everything – like this bouquet!

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Today’s topic of flowers wasn’t as inspiring as I thought it might be.  Maybe because I’m always taking pictures of flowers, so the novelty just isn’t there for me?!  Whatever the case, I chose this picture because I really liked the vivid colors.  The bright pink petals really set off the other more ordinary flowers in the background.  

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faraway
{far away}

This photo, taken near Cottonwood Pass {Colorado} on August 5, 2012, captures “far away” perfectly.
At over 14,000 feet above sea level, you can’t get much higher without needing oxygen! Even a native Rocky Mountain girl like myself still gets a mild headache and a little dizzy hiking those peaks which nearly puncture the heavens!

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Are you wondering how I managed to get this perspective? Simple…I just laid down on my belly right in the middle of the trail! Some fellow hikers coming down the trail were puzzled I’m sure…even my kids thought that maybe Mommy needed a nap! Alas, the artist is always so misunderstood! ;)

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clouds
{something fun + clouds}

One of the best things about where I live is that nearly every single day we are given magnificent sunsets to feast upon!  I took this shot with my hubby’s iPhone 4 and all I did to “enhance” it was add my web address.

I know, right?!  Jealous?

Clouds are fun photo subjects because depending on the lighting and the other background elements you never really know what you are going to end up with.

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I typically don’t post on the weekends, but I am having way too much fun with these August photos!  I’ve always taken lots of pictures, but never really given much thought to them.  What are your favorite photo subjects – beyond the kiddos, of course!

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owl
{something I made}

I’m getting back in touch with my inner artist. And, you know what? Creating is incredibly healing.

This is a mixed media canvas that I sketched for my daughter. My fave things to draw with are Sharpies and colored pencils…but I’ve never tried that on canvas until now. To get the darker, richer color (like the night sky) I broke out my old acrylics.

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What have you made lately? Artsy craftsy stuff or otherwise? I’m really into making my own stuff lately – food, cleaning supplies, even some natural skincare products!

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We are all bored out of our minds.

So – we look for more every single day.

The balance of nature has been offset for so long – our survival instincts to find food, shelter and water – have no where to go except the aisles of our abundant grocery stores.  And houses of all shapes and sizes fill the land as far as the eye can see.  Sure, we have to have money to provide all of this, but earning a paycheck does little to fulfill our innate need for survival.

{Source: homesteadingsurvivalism.myshopify.com on Pinterest}

There is little reward felt at the end of the day for a job well done because the job(s) most of us do have such intangible results.  Instead of filling our days with hunting and gathering – surviving – we fill our days with computer screens, virtual meetings and fuzzy, beige-y gray partitions.

Even those of us who don’t work in the traditional sense (housewives, like me!) – while sometimes it may feel like we are traipsing through the muck and mire of a vast frontier, in actuality, we have homes filled with running water and electricity keeping our food cold, our clothes clean and our bellies full (at least most of us do  - I do realize that people do without these things even here in the US).

When basic survival isn’t at hand, it seems to be in human nature to constantly look for ways to fill our desires and to constantly look for more desires to fill.

Don’t get me wrong, I am just as spoiled and comfortableand quite possibly bored – as the rest of you!  I love sipping my iced coffee in my air conditioned living room as I tap away at the keys on this laptop.  In fact, I love it!

It’s not like I think civilization should reverse itself to fulfill our bored survival instincts.  But I do think it’s interesting to watch these instincts of ours try to busy themselves and take note of what they produce.

{Source: masikawa.tumblr.com on Pinterest}

Human survival instincts may just well be the foundation for the great creative minds out there!

Art - in all its glorious forms – could very well be the expression of our human survival instincts.

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Where do you think Art & Creativity are formed?  Are some people just born that way, or is a factor of survival?  The tortured artist is a cultural stereotype…do you think there is some truth to it?  Do you really need to endure and survive something extraordinary in order to be an artist? Or does “ordinary, modern human existence” qualify as surviving something extraordinary? I’d love to hear your thoughts!  Oh, and Happy August to all!!  

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Morning light filters through

And my purple clover reaches for more

light

I shut my eyes to thoughts that race

“What If”  never finds peace

And my blue mood reaches for more

dark

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A little poetry for the Trifecta Challenge this week.  Blue – as in “feeling blue” – was the prompt this week.  Now, go enjoy some more wonderful Trifecta writing! 

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Source: topit.me via Pinterest

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“Be a good boy, Mosley.”

I felt the sun’s warmth still lingering in the bricks on the garage wall as I leaned back. I slid my thumb across the shiny rectangle in my hand, tapped here and there, looking for something to fill the time. June’s cool night air rustled my hair into my face.

Outside the wooden gate, I heard something moving.  Then, a faint grunting sound.

“Damn it!” I hissed. “That raccoon!”  I said loudly, in hopes that the little bandit would be startled and find another back alley trash can to dine from.

Mosley’s flat little pug face was vacuuming the grass, in search of a spot worthy of his poo.

“Be a good boy, Mosley. Let’s go night-night.”

I coaxed him along, wondering if there would ever be a day that didn’t end or begin with me involved with some sort of defecation.  Between diaper changes, potty training and Mosley my poo-less prospects were slim.

The muffled grunt, and rustle had caught Mosley’s attention this time too.  He was kicking his back legs for a job well done, and woofing his little yappy snort.

I opened the back gate into the alley, searching the gravel for trash, and a fleeting coon.

But nothing.

There it was again.

Except, instead of a grunt, it sounded like the soft gurgle of a baby – a human baby.

I felt my arm hairs prickle with the chill of uncertainty.  I picked up Mosley, wanting to head back inside. He growled at the lilacs near the garage and I saw movement in the dimly lit alley; it was definitely not a raccoon.

Rocking ever so slightly, with tiny feet peering out from a fluttering, fuzzy blanket, there sat a baby carrier, with an envelope duct taped to the handle.

“It’s a baby, Mosley.” Although I was mostly just talking to myself, out of sheer disbelief.  I walked over, and knelt down.  A pale green pacifier bobbed frantically in her tiny mouth.

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I had to try my hand (or words, in this case!) again at Trifecta this week!  I forgot how fun writing fiction and spinning up a story can be! Thanks Trifecta for some much needed inspiration!   Now go check out all the other awesome participants this week.

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I watch her.

I ache.

She shudders.

“I’m still here,” I whisper, faintly.

She closes her eyes.

“I’m still here,” my whisper fills her ears, and she shakes her head, trying to ignore, escape.

I watch her:

At the park

In her car

Running errands

Visiting with friends.

I ache.

She shudders.

“I’m still here,” I whisper again.

I close my eyes.

I am alone, floating weightless, aimless, boundless.

My ears flush with warmth.  I ache to feel her essence.

I open my eyes.  Slowly, I focus.  There are cars, a street, trees reaching from the concrete sidewalks, stretching to grab a ray of sunshine through the towering shadows of the cityscape.

My eyes are adjusting; I can’t seem to find definition in my surroundings.  Everything is gray.  The colors faded, muted, gone.

A young girl is standing on the corner, just feet away from me.  She is watching me.  But no one else seems to notice.   I am just as faded and muted as the rest of the city.

The girl’s mother is holding her daughter’s hand and a cell phone in the other, chatting away about a pair of shoes she saw in a store window display earlier that day.

I shudder.

My gaze goes back to the little girl, curiously watching my every move.  I manage to smile, albeit weakly , but a kind gesture none the less.  Her dimpled grin assures me that she is, in fact, watching me.

Her attention fills me again.  I feel the girl’s warmth envelop me.  I yearn for more.  I start towards her.  Every cell is tingling now.  The girl continues to smile, and has pulled her hand from her mother’s grip.  Her mother is too caught up in mindless chatter to notice.  I kneel down on the sidewalk in front of her.  My knees ache against the cool, rough concrete.  I focus on the warmth from this little girl, this new little soul in front of me.

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Another little bit of fiction that I’ve being writing on & off for a year now.  It came to mind when I read the Trifecta challenge for Week 30 – New.  Thanks for stopping by to read – be sure to go check out all the other writer’s entering this week!

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