Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
Webs cross my face
Deep within lines
Already drawn
One for each year
Chill in the bones
A sleeping resurgence
As vague
As hair growing
This slow melting
The longest yawn
Can be seen
Through the trees
Just there
Beyond reach
Untouchable
Unconsciously palpable
oils on canvas 12″x12″
trees are the last to give in….in the forest, we can watch it on the natural screen,
framed for our liking…a movie not to be missed, playing worldwide….one showing only
(About being a child. The smell of fall triggers a waterfall of emotion.
Freedom is lost to structure and the renewed experience of being chosen or rejected in the new/old social setting we call school)
Darkness falls earlier these days
Without fail
The melancholy wells up
Like thermal mud-pots
Boiling over
With pent up anticipation
Soon there will be a choosing
A renewing
Confirmation of what I already know
The abyss in my stomach returns
As I reach out
Clumsily grasping for tree limbs
Eyes closed, over the cliff I go
Encircled by perfection
Conscious of every rejection
Life cycles ended in harvest
A new year
But we’re told it’s not yet new year
If I open my eyes
Will I hit bottom?
Oils on canvas – 16″x20″
The sixties was a time when a child would grow up outside. Mothers would tell their children “go outside and play”. We would….oh we would. We were almost feral….until it was time for dinner.
Going “back to school” robbed us of that freedom, and brought the testing of our worldly social skills to the fore. Some of us were very good at it. Some of us simply blended into the lead-painted siding.
Fall for me has always been painted with these experiences, even after all these years.
“You must join in
You must join us
Not them”
My body floated over the fray
“Come down here
And hate with us.
We will be victorious!
If you do not pick a side
Both sides will devour you.
We are righteous,
And hatred is our friend!”
“So then this must be my demise.
To hover and refuse the chains.
Better to die, than to die while living
For foolish delusions.”
Mounted, divided photograph on plywood. Gesso and oils.
I’m sure I reached out to you
There on the horizon
Words spilled from my tongue
Sonic whispers of many voices
In languages unknown to me
I’m sure you heard me
Ten thousand miles away
Your body facing away from me again
I could feel your grin of satisfaction
Explaining how many deaths must one person die.
My body portal-ed to face you
Over waves of torrential rage
The deluge of clouds
Left tracks on your face
Streams of lost hope
Lightning smacked relentlessly
And wind swept through your hair thick as the loom
Pushing it sideways in slow motion
You were facing down
Then slowly looked up towards me
Eyes black, empty
I’m sure I reached out to you in the pounding rain
But could not traverse the growing chasm
Now between us.
We both knew,
The chasm would consume us.
Eyes locked
I felt your grin of satisfaction
My future on the edge of the waterfall
Holding on to a semblance of self worth
I couldn’t understand
How you were at peace
The storm receded
You, still at its center
It would always be like this for you, wouldn’t it?
I stood silent on the edge
Watching you fade away
My lips mouthing my confusion
How many deaths must one person die?
How many deaths must one person die?
(2) 12″x12″ Oils on canvas – inspired by a dream, by a lifetime
Light’s departure paints
Strokes on canvas gold
There be no better solace
An ancient story told
To sleep my sorrows go
Failures run and hide
A chill engulfs the nape
Cares soon skyward die
My tree is silent strength
Speaking without words
Holds me in her branches
Kissing stars and birds
I know one song, and nature is my muse.
“Night Shade” – Oils on canvas 9″x12″
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 