Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Friday, March 17, 2017
Artsy -- an Online Art Resource
The Michelangelo Buonarroti page on Artsy provides visitors with the artist's bio, over 20 of his works, exclusive articles, and up-to-date Buonarroti exhibition listings. The page also includes related artists and categories, allowing viewers to discover art beyond our Buonarroti page.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Rock from the Universe
This image belongs to someone who uses the handle jhamomlb, and is posted here with permission:
What do you think of this rock? What's his name? Where is he from? Something to meditate upon...
What do you think of this rock? What's his name? Where is he from? Something to meditate upon...
Friday, April 23, 2010
SDP: Learn and Create with Processing
Processing is an open source programming language and environment for people who want to program images, animation, and interactions. It is used by students, artists, designers, researchers, and hobbyists for learning, prototyping, and production. It is created to teach fundamentals of computer programming within a visual context and to serve as a software sketchbook and professional production tool.- from http://processing.org/
Art, Computer Programming, Math -- could Processing have most of my favorite topics melded together? I'm not sure I like looking at computer generated art. But you know how sometimes things seem to taste better when you cook or bake them youself? I think the same might be true of this art form.
The Processing website also has links to programming toys for younger folks, specifically Alice, Scratch and Pippy.
So much to explore -- so little time!
Monday, February 22, 2010
Train Station Drawing
On her blog Long Island Daily Photo, Lily Hydrangea posted a picture that includes the Farmingdale train station. It's the building on the left.
Very many years ago, I created a pencil sketch of that building, which you can see below.
This was done on something like 11" x 17" sketchbook paper, so rather than scan it, I had to photograph it.
About two years ago, I decided to throw out all my old artwork. But first, I went about scanning / photographing it. For some reason, my daughter liked this piece best of all, so it's the only piece of art I saved from that time period.
As I wrote earlier, I didn't really see the subjects of my drawings. This is evidence of that.
Just thought someone might find this interesting!
Very many years ago, I created a pencil sketch of that building, which you can see below.
This was done on something like 11" x 17" sketchbook paper, so rather than scan it, I had to photograph it.
About two years ago, I decided to throw out all my old artwork. But first, I went about scanning / photographing it. For some reason, my daughter liked this piece best of all, so it's the only piece of art I saved from that time period.
As I wrote earlier, I didn't really see the subjects of my drawings. This is evidence of that.
Just thought someone might find this interesting!
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Health Food Store Chicks
If you want to meet the most nonconformist humans in a single structure, visit your local health food store. These places seem to employ the folks that have the most piercings and tattoos, and the least interest in personal hygiene. Some of the customers aren't exactly stellar models either. I should know -- I am one!
The two women tonight seemed fine and ordinary enough until I got close enough to hear their conversation, which was about buying a house.
"Nobody puts 20% down," said the cheerful brunette.
"I don't care. I don't want to be anyone's bitch," replied the natural blond with the baby blue eyes.
Not wanting to side with the blond, I pointedly did not chime in with the fact that I paid a 20% deposit on our home's purchase back in 1995 because I didn't want to pay PMI. But those were different times. So instead I placed my items on the counter to be rung up.
A very cheerful piece of artwork, about 11" x 17" landscape, was taped inexpertly to the wall behind them. It easily outshone the dingy clutter. I figured I'd try my hand at being social for a change.
"That's a nice drawing, or painting," I remarked, pointing to it. The blond, who was bagging, didn't turn to look where I was pointing right away. But then as she started to reply, she stole a glance at it.
"I did that. I got an A in it," she said flatly.
"Oh it's so nice and cheerful!" I said with honest enthusiasm.
"Thanks. Yeah, I was going through a breakup and when I finished it, I felt so much better."
Faltering a bit, I ventured, "Oh I see. Um, so you go to art school?"
"I used to. I quit. I don't think I need to go to school to become an artist," declared the blond, now sporting a deeply furrowed brow.
"No, I guess not. My daughter really likes art."
"Tell her to drop out of school."
"Well, she's only eleven. Besides, she's really good in math and music, too," I offered as defense.
The brunette, who was finished ringing up the purchase, came to my aid, "Being good in math helps. She could get into graphic arts...."
At this point I took my bag and said good-bye. I was troubled by the blond because she seemed so troubled. So later on I imagined myself giving her a warm, caring hug.
I could identify with her "bitch" comment. I believe credit is a modern form of slavery. But I don't think you can become a homeowner without being someone's bitch, even if you buy the home outright. You'll still need to pay property taxes on the land and dwelling.
Rather, I was troubled by her negativity over school. Was she doing so well as an artist that she didn't need school? If so, why is she bagging groceries in the designated deodorant-free zone of town?
Perhaps I'm worried that our daughter's negativity might progress to just such a point that she'll drop out, too. That's why whenever she gets in one of those "I can't stand living here" moods, I simply say, "Do really well in school so that you can get a good job and move out as soon as possible."
So, to all you health food store chicks: being someone's bitch ain't so bad -- you get used to it. And please stay in school. Peace and blessings to you.
The two women tonight seemed fine and ordinary enough until I got close enough to hear their conversation, which was about buying a house.
"Nobody puts 20% down," said the cheerful brunette.
"I don't care. I don't want to be anyone's bitch," replied the natural blond with the baby blue eyes.
Not wanting to side with the blond, I pointedly did not chime in with the fact that I paid a 20% deposit on our home's purchase back in 1995 because I didn't want to pay PMI. But those were different times. So instead I placed my items on the counter to be rung up.
A very cheerful piece of artwork, about 11" x 17" landscape, was taped inexpertly to the wall behind them. It easily outshone the dingy clutter. I figured I'd try my hand at being social for a change.
"That's a nice drawing, or painting," I remarked, pointing to it. The blond, who was bagging, didn't turn to look where I was pointing right away. But then as she started to reply, she stole a glance at it.
"I did that. I got an A in it," she said flatly.
"Oh it's so nice and cheerful!" I said with honest enthusiasm.
"Thanks. Yeah, I was going through a breakup and when I finished it, I felt so much better."
Faltering a bit, I ventured, "Oh I see. Um, so you go to art school?"
"I used to. I quit. I don't think I need to go to school to become an artist," declared the blond, now sporting a deeply furrowed brow.
"No, I guess not. My daughter really likes art."
"Tell her to drop out of school."
"Well, she's only eleven. Besides, she's really good in math and music, too," I offered as defense.
The brunette, who was finished ringing up the purchase, came to my aid, "Being good in math helps. She could get into graphic arts...."
At this point I took my bag and said good-bye. I was troubled by the blond because she seemed so troubled. So later on I imagined myself giving her a warm, caring hug.
I could identify with her "bitch" comment. I believe credit is a modern form of slavery. But I don't think you can become a homeowner without being someone's bitch, even if you buy the home outright. You'll still need to pay property taxes on the land and dwelling.
Rather, I was troubled by her negativity over school. Was she doing so well as an artist that she didn't need school? If so, why is she bagging groceries in the designated deodorant-free zone of town?
Perhaps I'm worried that our daughter's negativity might progress to just such a point that she'll drop out, too. That's why whenever she gets in one of those "I can't stand living here" moods, I simply say, "Do really well in school so that you can get a good job and move out as soon as possible."
So, to all you health food store chicks: being someone's bitch ain't so bad -- you get used to it. And please stay in school. Peace and blessings to you.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Winter Beauty Affirmation
My daughter made this for my wife. It reads, "Snowflakes are unique and beautiful. So are you!"
Saturday, April 12, 2008
High School Art Classes and Maturation of Seeing
I helped clean out my mother's house last Saturday and found my old art portfolios.
I took art in grades nine and ten. As a grade nine elective, art was one of three choices, the other two being shop (a noisy dirty class for jocks and bullies) and home economics (for girls). Being neither a jock, bully or girl, I chose art. Besides, I figured I'd really like drawing -- I used to enjoy it as a child.
My ninth grade art class was the last one of the day. It was a great way to wind down. I really became absorbed in the work and found solace and escape. (This was Junior High School, after all.) I focused a lot on detail -- bricks in the wall of a building, the bark on a tree, etc. I enjoyed the media of pencil and pen and ink best.
I managed to produce some impressive things and got consistently high grades. One piece won honorable Mention at a local art gallery in a student contest. It was a (partly abstract) pen and ink drawing of a train station.
I dropped art after tenth grade. One reason was that it was the first class of the day. I'm sorry, but art should not be done at 8:00am. Another was that I had classmates that were much better than me. (The classmates were in grades ten, eleven and twelve.) I remember one guy who could draw amazing fantasy creatures. And yet another reason was that this class was such drudgery. In looking through the work, I remember the assignment where I had to turn in four sketches of my hand in one week. There was also some art history that I was expected learn and write essays about! [shudder]
The main point of this post is that I realize now that I could not really see back then. It wasn't until I bought "Drawing on the Right Side of Brain" several years later that I learned how I should visually perceive my environment. Not that I actually could visually perceive my environment, mind you.
And now it's fifteen years later. I'm finally trying to look carefully at what's around me instead of walking about in a fog, ruminating on past conversations and events. I no longer arrive at work, not remembering the drive. I don't very often walk into a room forgetting what I it was I went in it for. I'm almost becoming lucid just like I used to in my dreams years ago.
Seeing seems so simple. But it's not, at least not for me. In fact, there are many things that seem so simple, and yet we don't do them well. Breathing, eating, hygiene -- these autonomous activities suffer from lack of concentration. We eat without paying much attention to the taste and texture of the food, let alone how the food can replenish us. Our breathing becomes more and more shallow as stress weighs upon us. We brush our teeth mindlessly, hoping to get it done quickly, utterly failing to imagine them clean, strong and healthy.
When you see, really look at the scene in front of you. Take in the detail of the tree branches, the iridescence of bird feathers, the diamond-like sparkle of dew on the morning lawn. Be present in the moment. Treat the present as the gift that it is. See it. Feel it. Be it.
I took art in grades nine and ten. As a grade nine elective, art was one of three choices, the other two being shop (a noisy dirty class for jocks and bullies) and home economics (for girls). Being neither a jock, bully or girl, I chose art. Besides, I figured I'd really like drawing -- I used to enjoy it as a child.
My ninth grade art class was the last one of the day. It was a great way to wind down. I really became absorbed in the work and found solace and escape. (This was Junior High School, after all.) I focused a lot on detail -- bricks in the wall of a building, the bark on a tree, etc. I enjoyed the media of pencil and pen and ink best.
I managed to produce some impressive things and got consistently high grades. One piece won honorable Mention at a local art gallery in a student contest. It was a (partly abstract) pen and ink drawing of a train station.
I dropped art after tenth grade. One reason was that it was the first class of the day. I'm sorry, but art should not be done at 8:00am. Another was that I had classmates that were much better than me. (The classmates were in grades ten, eleven and twelve.) I remember one guy who could draw amazing fantasy creatures. And yet another reason was that this class was such drudgery. In looking through the work, I remember the assignment where I had to turn in four sketches of my hand in one week. There was also some art history that I was expected learn and write essays about! [shudder]
The main point of this post is that I realize now that I could not really see back then. It wasn't until I bought "Drawing on the Right Side of Brain" several years later that I learned how I should visually perceive my environment. Not that I actually could visually perceive my environment, mind you.
And now it's fifteen years later. I'm finally trying to look carefully at what's around me instead of walking about in a fog, ruminating on past conversations and events. I no longer arrive at work, not remembering the drive. I don't very often walk into a room forgetting what I it was I went in it for. I'm almost becoming lucid just like I used to in my dreams years ago.
Seeing seems so simple. But it's not, at least not for me. In fact, there are many things that seem so simple, and yet we don't do them well. Breathing, eating, hygiene -- these autonomous activities suffer from lack of concentration. We eat without paying much attention to the taste and texture of the food, let alone how the food can replenish us. Our breathing becomes more and more shallow as stress weighs upon us. We brush our teeth mindlessly, hoping to get it done quickly, utterly failing to imagine them clean, strong and healthy.
When you see, really look at the scene in front of you. Take in the detail of the tree branches, the iridescence of bird feathers, the diamond-like sparkle of dew on the morning lawn. Be present in the moment. Treat the present as the gift that it is. See it. Feel it. Be it.
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