31 december 2009
28 december 2009
Candlelight spills into my room.
It falls across your face and even mine
It falls across your body,
It discovers you,
your perfections, your Imperfections,
Your hopes and aspirations.
The candlelight is soft and so forgiving.
The candlelight is warm and inviting.
When the morning comes and the candle is
Through it will have already discovered you.
Now it is gone the warmth is lost.
You are left in the twilight of early dawn.
You have been stripped bear as sleep rushes in.
Now sleep my darling, for I am here
I am still the candle that burns with in.
by Lindsey R Shapiro
24 december 2009
Happy Holidays for
and a great New Year;
That all your dreams
will be fulfilled!
Hele Fijne Feestdagen voor
jullie allemaal en
een geweldig Nieuw jaar;
Dat al jullie Dromen
uit mogen komen!!!
23 december 2009
It is my Birthday Today,
and I am Waiting Patiently
for my Guests to Arrive!
Here are the First Guests Already!
Welcome, Please Do Come in…
and Join us for some Tea with Cupcakes!
Oh, Thank you Dear, for the Lovely Flowers!
We played a little Game of
Cards in the Afternoon!
And after all the Guests are Gone?
I am Knocked Out!!!
I just want to Dream and Fly Off..
Thank You All for a Lovely Day.
22 december 2009
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
by Clement Clarke Moore
21 december 2009
~ LINK ~
His name is Alon Chou born in Taiwan
He graduated from National
Taiwan University of Arts
He does Illustrations, character designs and
scenery designs for games and animation films.
Drawing to me is like a single frame of a movie,
it is dramatic, and should be something simple
and easy to understand without difficult theories.
A drawing should be a complete presentation of plot,
emotion, the interaction, background, the space
relation, the lights and shadows, the atmosphere, etc.
I would like to include all these elements into my
drawings, and make it better.
19 december 2009
In 1880 Randolph Caldecott further popularized
this centuries-old song with his illustrations to
a delightful Lancashire dialect version,
"The Three Jovial Huntsmen".
Here is a typical verse:
"They hunted, an' they hollo'd, an' the next thing
they did find.
Was a bull-calf in a pin-fold, an' that, too,
they left behind. Look ye there!
One said it was a bull-calf, an' another he
It's just a painted jackass, that has never
learnt to bray. Look ye there!"
"The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allowed
To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin.
Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
Were never folks so glad!
The stones did rattle underneath
As if Cheapside were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane.
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again.
For saddletree scarce reached had he,
His journey to begin,
When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more."
Poem by William Cowper.
17 december 2009
16 december 2009
14 december 2009
Patricia was born in Brazil, where she lived for over
30 years until moving to the United States.
She is been drawing since early childhood, and since
her teenage years she is explored a large range
of artistical modalities: dance, drama, music,
design and literature. she sees Art as
something sacred, intrinsically bonded to the
spiritual. The artist is a worker for the Universe, an
instrument to unveil what is occult from the ordinary
eye, to bring out the freedom of understanding.
She uses mostly watercolors and pencils and
the combination figurative/abstract art to explore
metaphysical concepts and the human mind and
soul in an archetypal, symbolical form.
Her work deals with themes like life and its cycles,
the unconscious, the sacred feminine, transformation
and spiritual evolution and the connections
of man with Nature and the Universe.
. . .
13 december 2009
A special world for you and me
A special bond one cannot see
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.
Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us to the fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast
Bonds like this are meant to last.
And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.
~by Sheelagh Lennon~
Painting by Allan R. Banks (1948-)
11 december 2009
Thomas Bromley Blacklock (1863 - 1903 )
Born in Kirkcudbright he trained in Edinburgh
working mainly in pen and ink and later in oils.
His finest works are his landscapes into which he
began to introduce children and fairies.
He painted in and around Kirkcudbright and
produced many rugged seashore scenes of fine
tonal quality. Sadly he suffered from a severe spinal
ailment which eventually led to his suicide when at
the height of his artistic development.
10 december 2009
a Duirwaigh project!
The other stunning artists involved with this project
are Jena DellaGroataglia, Christophe Vacher,
Agnieszka Szuba, Elisabetta Sinopoli, Barbara,
Marc Fishman and Silas Toball, and the
magical words of Angi Sullins.
A lullaby for the soul - My Wish for You.
9 december 2009
Trisha's Life as an artist began at a very early age.
The drive to capture her immediate surroundings
and find inspiration in everyday events of life can
be traced to when she was only five years old.
This vision and excitement for life continues to be
the creative force behind her celebrated work today.
. . .
Trisha was born in Western New York and moved
to Canada in 1969 to attend Sheridan College
in Oakville, where she received a degree in design
and illustration. She now lives in Niagara-on-the Lake
with her family, who have become the loving focus
of her many paintings in watercolour.
. . .
The popularity of Trisha's paintings continue to grow,
exceeding her ability to supply the demand.
Since 1980, limited edition reproductions from the
originals have allowed collectors to enjoy
her artwork worldwide.
~ LINK ~
~ AND HERE ~
. As Children, we walked by the light of the moon
through the woods and across a crystal field to
reach the pond for an evening of skating.
On other nights our father took us to the town park
where lamp lights glowed through snow flakes
and the ice shimmered as town folk waltzed around
the rink. These images have stayed with me and
were destined to become a painting one day.”
.It was late afternoon, that time in winter when
darkness comes early. Snow was falling in giant flakes
as Whitney and I headed home after a wonderful time of Christmas shopping. . .
I quickened my pace and explained that we must
hurry home to get dinner started. But when I glanced
down, I realized that Whitney had not even heard me.
She had stopped and was silently transfixed by a
glorious nativity scene in the shop window.