Sand under Glass

Talent comes in many forms, in many mediums. In thinking about the artists over so many centuries, we must come to appreciate, admire them and their work. Music? Architecture? Painting?  So much talent.

This was the work of Kseniya Simonova in a Tribute to Princess Diana in Britain's Got Talent from October 2019. Her creations are so unusual and striking there is no description adequate enough.

As art and talent blend, we are privileged to be a part of their world.

Be surprised and enjoy.   After all, surprise and enjoyment is awfully important now.

Garema Place Blest

From Elephant's Child

Billy Bob and Esther Sue had saved all their lives for this trip, and by golly, they would see as much of this street art place in Australia as they could.

The bus tour gave them 45 minutes to roam about this park in the middle of Canberra called “Garema” Place.

“Hell, Esther, if I’da wanted to look at weird metal sheep sitting on a bench, I’da made one at home,” Billy Jim stood with his big belly balanced by hands on hips.  “Mighty dumb, if ya ask me.”

‘Glad I didn’t ask.’  Esther Sue mentally responded.  She came to a lonely plaque on the sidewalk.  As she read it silently, a tear slid down her cheek.  ‘Well, at least you rejoiced when it came, Linette Bone.’

Billy Jim hollered, “Time to git back on the bus.  Git on over here, woman!”

Esther sighed, looking one last time at the plaque.  ‘Hope you were loved, ….’  Then she joined Billy on the bus.



This was a photo prompt from May 2012.  Its story, told in those very few words, touched me deeply.

Here are some other art displays at Garema Place in Canberra, Australia:

Source: mattewharding.com

Source: Hannah....you must visit this site.

This is a re-post from October 2012, a PhotoPrompt provided by Elephant's Child.  My Switzerland family (daughter Mary and 6 year old grandson Benjamin.) are still here. Will be leaving tomorrow. It has been a wonderful time.

We Are Who We Are

When one walks into our home, one could guess that we just moved in and lived in perpetual scattered messes. Well, it is not as bad as all that, but I look at it with dismayed eyes. We are messy, in a community where it seems that other people live organized lives.  

Oddly enough, my house was very tidy when my children were little.  Maybe it was that a toddler or crawler was wandering around, or that I was a stay-at home mom. But things morphed when they grew to be teenagers who left a trails or heaps of stuff.  Then they moved out. (see below what they became as adults) 
Now all the messes around are our own.

We both are eclectic people with our own talents and interests.

He is all math and science, a huge bridge fanatic. Around his recliner, one will find books on bridge, astronomy, science fiction, and investing. 

I am all color and art, with writing as my joy. Around my chair, there is no mess. But on the table, my computer is surrounded  by printouts, post-its, rough drafts being edited, and photos.

When one combines those two, there is and will always be a mess.

So if and when someone visits, we will close doors to our "creative" rooms, hoping that visitors will focus on art around and on the walls. Will go "ahhhh" at quilts commanding parts of their own walls.   Will smile at our collection of family photos. Will nod with appreciation at my laptop on the dining table, knowing that I am a writer, one who writes everyday.

Being as we are, I believe our messes will be understood and maybe even admired.

Well, not admired, but at least understood.

A quilt for my daughter

My sister made this for me.  She is so precious.

Anatole Krasnyansky

Are we alone in this?  Do you have a flare of your own, resulting in a mess? Oh, please say yes.

Time to pass it on...

When paintings on the walls

Blur and disappear,

It is time

To pass them on,

To New Eyes,

Who will

Experience

Joy and wonder

Once felt

By those who give.

source

Eighteen Defining Thoughts

Your thoughts....

Share 18 defining thoughts….

I do not think I can hit #18, but will at least write a few.

#1 and most important is my relationship with God.  Even when my beliefs were wobbling, God kept His hand over me, protecting me.  Through Jesus Christ, my sins are forgiven.

#2 is the love my husband and I share.

#3 …my children who are now mature adults.  John and I were young parents, in our 20s, and did not know what we were doing.  Somehow, these wonderful people did not know that at the time.

#4 …writing, which began when I was barely able to read. Pencil on school lined paper or pen on better paper, writing is more than just tossing some words.  Writing is a constant growing experience which expands the brain and makes me smile.

#5 …art.  My aspiration at one time was to be an artist.  Have a minor in art.  I watched my gr-daughters quite a bit when they were young; we did art together, with me teaching. (I had a “Grandma Bag” which carried a variety of art supplies.)  Maybe I will be more active now that my gr-daughters are pursuing other arts.

#6 …quilting…which is also art.  Colors make my heart sing.

#7 …reading and journaling.  Books of all types and genre.  My husband loves astronomy and so do I.

#8 …my siblings are precious to me.  There were once five of us, three brothers and my sister.  Two brothers died while in their 40s. 

#9 …memories of my parents and long-past relatives. 

#10 …the stories from my family that I recall and write down, now with the speed a computer provides.

#11 ...seeing a baby...holding a baby...watching parents holding babies....a baby's smile...

Well, now you have it!  There are more but they would probably seem unimportant when I re-read this.

Baby!

                                                                         

The World outside my World

So you remember this?

A neighbor gave our family a subscription to The National Geographic when I was ten years old. 

Well, I tell you what!

It exploded my small farm world and filled my mind with questions for which there no answers available to this farm girl. Each magazine was thumbed and read to pieces by the entire family.

“Class Artist” was my nickname then, because pencil and paper were always in my hands.  And now, the Nat’l Geo. was a powerful source from which images poured…flowers, towering trees, and exotic animals.

Then at age 17, a strange metamorphism happened.  The photos had always been my source; now the captions, stories, and the people hit me in their significance.  It was as if the faces and dark eyes leaped out at me, saying, “Look at me!  Understand me!”

Where my pencil had loved flowers and birds before, now my paper flew through fingers as I tried to capture the courage, sorrow, fear, grief and more of people far way.  Peering into their hollow pained eyes, I realized that glass-domed farm-world in which I lived was about to shatter.  At least for me, this would propel me out into other places.

Source

2014 NG photo contest winner

Source
Faces like these captured me.

The Stylish Blogger

Hmmm...these people don't know me very well.  How much should I tell them?  How deep should I go?  Take a breath.
1.  I grew up on a farm with three brothers and one sister.  I learned how to skin a squirrel and rabbit from my brothers.  I can also clean a fish, pluck and dress a chicken or duck.  I will never again clean a catfish.  From my sister, I learned that I love her dearly.

2.  In 3rd. grade, my teacher Mrs. Mary Ellen Willard called me the 'Class Artist'.   She let me write and write, and draw to my heart's content.  She taught in a way that only exceptional teachers can.

Thank you, Kristina!http://kaykays-corner.blogspot.com 

3.  I didn't learn to swim until I was 32 yrs. old.  I was scared to death, but I saw my youngest child leaping unafraid into the deep end.  That made me jump in, too.
4.  We didn't have a piano (couldn't afford lessons, anyway) until I was 14 yrs. old.  Then I taught myself to play, using math to figure out the notes and their relationship to the keys. 
5.  Migraines have been a factor since I was 4 yrs. old, but I thought everyone had headaches like mine.
6.  Living in Ireland was one of the richest experiences of my life on all levels.  The Irish people are among the finest in the world.  I want to go back.
7.  Don't wish away a single day of your life, not one single day.  Life is too special. I learned this when I lost my brother Robert to a brain tumor at age 46, and then another brother Bill to septic poisoning after surgery, at age 44. 
 I will be awarding this Stylish Blogger Award in a few days to some exceptional writers, of which there are many!  Susan

The Crusader Challenge

 We went to the Getty Art Museum north of Los Angeles on the day of the huge rainstorm.  We sat restaurant, eating our sweet potato fries, and watching the water. 

My husband John bloviated about natural disasters, rambling on about weather. We told the waiter Henri that we would like the braised rabbit and deep fried fuliguline to be served now. 

My son-in-law Richard perused the wine list and selected a nice Sonoma Valley merlot.  “It will cut through the gaminess of the rabbit like a hot blade,” Richard explained in his refined English accent.  We nodded in understanding. 

John’s napkin fell unnoticed to the floor.  I watched that napkin, almost shaking with my compulsive nature to pick it up and strangle him with it.  He finds this compulsive habit annoying.

The wine came, and Richard did the oenophile thing.  He nodded his approval.  Henri came with the heavy tray of our order and prepared to place the steaming plates on the table.  That was when he stepped on that damn napkin and slipped, falling to the carpet with the entire order.

It is my nature and an essential character trait to help and be compassionate.  So I leaped from my seat, and began mopping up the floor with my own napkin.  I picked up every last morsel; call it a quirk, but once I start something, I have to finish it.

With a new order on the way, my daughter Mary commented on a William Hopper piece in the gallery.  Visiting an art gallery is my idea of heaven, and we began talking about the different paintings.  She noticed I was squirming uncomfortably.  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.  Looking around, I whispered back, “ Hemorrhoids!” I answered.  There, she knew my secret. 

I may have revealed something about me that isn’t true; can you guess what it is?

Susan Kane