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Posts Tagged ‘Inspiration’

iceonwindow

One day I’ll try to learn more about the science behind these indoor ice formations. But for now I’ll just try to capture the images.

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LayeredCoasterCeiling

It is a new year and one of the things I intend to do is continue to tap into my inner child and play with shapes and colors. These images, produced with GIMP, begin with a tiny detail from the beautifully painted ceiling inside Trinity Church Boston.

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It was cold. We couldn’t last long but what we did see this New Year’s Day was quite worth the frigid quick roundtrip.

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https://www.mass.gov/locations/belle-isle-marsh-reservation

 

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ice2

I know that the formation of this ice on the inside of the windows is indicative of how cold this lovely old house can get at night, but I don’t mind peeking out from beneath the pile of covers to see what the morning sun reveals on the glass.

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… viewed through a screen door.

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It has become an ongoing project to capture the angels amidst the green vines of the Edward Burne-Jones & William Morris windows at Trinity Church in the City of Boston. I’ve fallen a bit behind but now I’m back at it!

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See for yourself at Trinity Church: http://trinitychurchboston.org/visit/tours

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One year ago it was my pleasure to share, in his own words and images, a glimpse into the life of painter Donald Langosy. Through his 14-page Story of My Art, that I condensed into roughly six blog posts, Mr. Langosy shared his amazing creative journey that involved the likes of Ezra Pound, William Blake, his wife Elizabeth and of course there is Shakespeare. His work is unique and quite inspiring as can be seen in the new book Donald Langosy: The Poet’s Painter. This book of 99 poems by Eric Sigler illustrated with full-color reproductions of the 99 paintings by Mr. Langosy that inspired the poet.

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Available online from a variety of vendors as listed below. If I have one criticism, after having seen firsthand the scale of some of these paintings, it is that I wish the book was physically bigger. Meanwhile I hope there will be an art opening one day so that more people can view his work up close and meet both painter and poet!

https://eyewearpublishing.glopal.com/en-US/p-8574461128/donald-langosy-poets-painter.html

 

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On my birthday I have to celebrate my parents … the good, the bad and all of the beauty in between.

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This past year I read quite a few slave narratives by African Americans who were interviewed in the late 1930s to document their childhood experiences and memories of slavery prior to the Civil War. These people, ranging in age from octogenarians to centenarians, were also asked about their feelings toward the people who had formerly owned them. The wide-range of responses highlight the complex relationships that developed between those who enslaved and those who were enslaved within an institutionalized system of slavery as it existed in the United States for well over two centuries.

The following words that I call Winter into Spring were inspired by one man’s memory of the tough times after the Civil War and his continuing close relationship with the family who had previously owned him. In broken English, he conveyed the depth of his feelings using visual metaphors. He spoke only of his personal experience, but I was moved by something that I felt was universal … how people experience grief whatever its source. And so I took this man’s words, tapped into my own personal experiences and observations of others to draft the following. It may be a work in progress …

 

Winter into Spring

I remember the day, both of their days,

the soil covering them like I no longer could.

What can I say except losing them was like being a tree in the winter wood. 

Understood?

Every cold wind, so sharp, blowed my leaves and tore them loose.

They fell to the ground, crumbling to dust, as if to follow those two,

my master and mistress, into their graves below.

I was in a world so dark I could not see.

Naked and alone. Stripped bare like a tree soon to fall.

Then one day I felt whole.

It was a strange day. What day, do you say?

That day it was like Spring, and it come bringing light!

I could see.

Well I guess you could say that little tree it was me.

You asked me how it felt and now I’ve told you.

When they passed I felt done, but the day did come,

though I still sometimes wonder why,

when I finally felt alive again.

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