Mindful Design - EV9 - September 2007
The Evolution of Religion
I go forth
like a cyborg
like an astronaut
studying the far reaches of
There is no face to hold me
to expected form.
Back in the far reaches
there was no need for the
binding of religion.
Small bands of kin with
knew what everybody knew.
It was not 'til population grew
beyond the constant face to face
that a binding form
need be evoked
of common ceremony, festivals,
deities, seeped in ritual,
Fast forward into the future.
Glue dissolves, as, like atoms, we find
built on mysterious attraction.
Why die for angry gods
we no longer need?
(c) May 12, 2007 Laurie Corzett
Thirteen Wizards Shall Guide You, rotating in 7s,
to be chosen from a wizard test administered at regular intervals
to any who wish to be tested.
Each wizard shall serve at his/her pleasure -- until they decide to move on.
Any wizard may return by retesting and getting the highest score amongst those currently in line at the time of a vacancy, the same as any other candidate.
The test will be devised by a wise pre-council to ascertain qualities of
wisdom, compassion, responsibility, integrity and clarity of communication.
The test may be reviewed and revised at any time that the full council agrees to do so, based on evidence of better evidence to be gained.
The wizards do not make the laws.
Laws are made by direct democracy, after a sufficient period of debate when
an overwhelming majority of consensus seems likely.
Wizards do have veto power.
Wizards do not control the economy. That is the province of the market.
The wizards do oversee the use and conservation of common resources.
They do oversee a social infrastructure that assures everyone a basic secure livelihood. They do oversee disputes to assure that everyone is treated fairly
in the course of commerce, and in the course of community life.
They are not paid an outright salary.
They are given ample living conditions so that their minds may be free
of personal want.
The experience of pain and suffering can be used as a gateway to compassion.
Compassion promotes self-compassion
Self-compassion promotes introspection
promotes awareness of the personal operating system
promotes forgiveness of misconceived blame
promotes relaxation of boundaries and restrictions
promotes liminal wisdom
promotes calm acceptance of non-rational realities,
promotes reintegration of self as programmer,
promotes self-reprogramming in alignment with
self-progression to a place of bliss and
dharmic awareness in which
every piece fits magically finds its place
all to all eternally unwinding.
(c) February 26, 2007 Laurie Corzett
"Star" (c) Joel Moore
Humming bird wings beat furiously as slender beak dips deeply into blossom…honeysuckle is happy to have such an attentive visitor and the vine opens more flowers so as to hold the intentions of the gathering hummingbird…sweet succulent juices are heard on the wind being sucked into a tiny aperture of love…the noise heard only by the ants as they gather manna and fatten themselves in anticipation of their offering to the queen…somewhere a man is walking thru a field and thinking of a woman while the flowers bring her scent to him on the wind…he is not alone…the sky sees his solitude and sends the most fluffy white clouds to keep him company on his sojourn…somewhere else she is sleeping on a bed of water lilies and a koala bear is her pillow…she tosses and turns and is moist between her legs and the scent of her desire is pungent like the incense in the temples where the monks pray for strength when she passes by…boys and girls make discoveries that their parents fear only to grow old and forget the magic of their childhood…which is tarnished by the passage of time and the harsh solvents of life…the hummingbird never forgets its first taste of nectar…the honeysuckle never forgets it’s first offering of such and the man is still walking thru the field of time and space and wondering if the woman of the lilies is still sleeping and feels his turgid desire when he remembers the smell of the incense of her temple…he reaches the shore of a languid ocean where small waves massage his feet as he crosses the expanse of water…the seagulls herald his approach and the clouds part so that the sun may shine upon her face…the rays have always been her signal to awaken and they play around her face adding to her luminescence…she rises and wraps soft seaweed around her which is thankful to be able to caress her skin…the trumpeting of the gulls tell her of his love and they circle overhead…the Buddha enters the temple and brings peace and fulfillment to the monks…the ants make obeisance to the queen and the honeysuckle blossom caresses the beak of the humming bird…they touch and a thousand whales spout their joy…they ride on a tsunami of torrid passion across the seas of life while the water lilies become pages for the writing of their stories…a thousand years pass in a second and the lingering kiss is as soft as leaves falling to the ground…their blood is one and their union is eternal…he is drunk with her emotions and she is insane with his desire…this they share like a feast of the senses and they appear to all the world as the splitting of atoms…light and heat radiate in every direction for thousands of light years but brings harm to none…the ants raise a tiny shout of joy which is audible only to the roots of plants…meanwhile the hummingbird dips his beak into another honeysuckle blossom and the tiny droplet of nectar which contains their universe is drained from the willing flower…now the bird is sated…wings silent…he sits on a flowering branch observing the world…
Copyright 2007 d.jones
Days Of Trees, Cheetahs And Mountains
In my maiden days
I laugh, sing
dream my dreams
live my fantasies
run like a cheetah.
In my mother days
I ache with pregnancy
scream in childbirth
feed with love
gaze longingly at mountains
In my crone days
I tell stories
pass on wisdom
marvel at cheetahs
think like a mountain.
imagery and text © 2007 Maureen Sexton
Male-Female Merging (c) Jerry Wennstrom
Were a woman of design
To find herself in a place
Where fabric falls in rivulets
Of sound against her thighs
Would she know wherefore
And what to?
What would she call the space
Between the pages, the race of beings
That suddenly spring from her like winged
Creatures at dawn?
What would she call the new face
She found in the mirror's eye,
Springing from her skull and staring
Beyond mere daylight from the
Darkest corner of her being?
Would a name suffice to explain
The mythological necessity of the traces
She would claim and someday
Or, what is it in a name
That gives voice to the dream?
Were a woman to design
The newest place to call now home
Would the faeries lend a hand
Or leave her quite alone
Until riding the east wind
On a poppy bloom
She is done?
copyright Kala Snowflower
"Twinkle" (c) 2007 Rosa Seyah
All Existence is...
Give from heartsong tears
soothing what was
water flowing, cleanse
gifts, this feeling, this
being inside, allow
I cannot frame the moment
in gauze, mere
allow myself receiving
the present, the sunset,
grave bodies decomposing,
singing past prayer, allowed
to be presently in flow,
how the light feeds
Beauty dancing on eyes
sparkling sorrow, love
they take you
healing for healing
like cool hands
revival rising through
dark water, rising
through dirt, roots
hair still growing
in sound, landscapes of
flesh, kisses opening
coarse fabric of time to
immortal rooms beaming
bright solitude in crowds,
waves exclaiming, crests
of excitement riding,
Destiny, take me!
Love, Open me!
Wider, I'm yours
purpose, light caresses
my hair integrates this
moment, rides the wave
dancing the cycle of perception
without thought, care, notice
bright red fruit beckons,
enticing with life
Mother loving Father
Sun and Earth embracing
my heart kisses tiny birds above
with only one true purpose
pure with joy.
copyright Kala Snowflower
Vision Thread Painting 34 X 32 © Robert Forman 2002
"Isle of Ruins" Jude Cowell Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative 2.5
Beneath the House of the Monks.
There is a cave beneath the House of the Monks
and a narrow path that winds steeply down
to the bowels of the Earth
and a deep black pool
where blind fish circle endlessly...
There is a hidden stairway behind the panneling
in the House of Thieves
that leads all the way to the Moon.
Sometimes when a silver-voiced Siren calls to him in his sleep
or a cold white owl hoots in his dreams,
one of the thieves will furtively enter the hidden stairwell
and climb the widing spiral way;
and if, when they gather in the darkness and gloom
of their common-room to discuss their plans and secrets,
his fellows notice that one amongst them is missing,
they say nothing but make a secret sign beneath the table
and keep it to themselves...
"Perhaps he will bring a Moon Diamond back", they are thinking
"an opal or two; a pocketful of sapphires
or a crystalised Rose...
If I keep quiet about it I may be able to persuade him
to share his loot with me.
No need to tell these other fellows!"
Strangely enough, in the deep black pool
beneath the House of the Monks,
the reflection of the beautiful silver Moon
can sometimes be discerned quite clearly
- despite the thick layers of intervening rock
and when it shines thus, deep in the
cold mysterious mirror of the deep Black Pool,
it illuminates many diamonds, opals and sapphires
embedded in the solid basin of the stone that holds it,
twinkling like so many submerged stars.
"Perhaps these blind fish that circle endlessly
are in fact inhabited by the souls of thieves",
an imaginative monk might speculate
" - circling forever around mystical treasure
they can neither see or hope to touch
but haunted by its invisible presence..."
But, of course, if he has any sense he will dismiss
any such idle speculation the moment it arises,
returning his errant attention to his meditation
and the gentle breath of the Universe...
"Healing" (c) Nisvan
"contemplating the future" (c) Gregory Lent
With great valor on his side, the warrior monk posed at the crossroads of multiple elevens, great intersections of fiery jolts of life, the novitiate, the adept, the master, all stand in file at the beckon of the philosophers stone, while Mars holds court over the lion, both in stately regalia.
The new found knowledge of stability as a perception versus a concept, the nine cups overflowing, ripe in their outpour, delighted in the song of waterfalls cascading and filling full vessels, while Jupiter and the fish dance eternal, a mischievous sparkle in the multiple I's and in their varied lives.
He faced up square shouldered to the task at hand, the duty of transformation via a process of rams and lambs, of shields and staffs. On the road to this redemption the righteous man of faith and the god of war stand together surveying the metaphysical battlefield upon which life and love's conquests take shape and are determined.
It's a shame and 'tis a pity, but indeed we say goodnight to the Dionysian queen, the fire mother herself, holy leopard and pine cone setting in the west, where dreams and ancestors find a home in the ether. Goodnight sweet lady, the world doth eternal spin.
And behold to the east, for there rises the very same seed of the once known mother, the birth of fire, bold and new arising Ra, the landscape of a singular shine perpetual and life giving, redeeming and renewing, dispelling and discerning, reborn once more…
(c) Javier Yoacham
"Athena" (c) Stevon Lucero
(c) David Harrington
Come: Look and see the wonderful sights through the eyes of the visionary.
I was driven by the Spirit to a high plateau near a river of rushing waters. And overlooking the sea wall where the waters cascade into the sea, stood two, like rams, clothed in long flowing robes all decked in gold.
And in their hands I saw them juggling open books as would a pair of charlatans. And out of the mouth of one I saw fabulous tongues of fire stretch forth over the congregation. And in the eyes of the other welled up great pools of water that whenever he opened his mouth to speak, an endless flood of tears would pour down upon the congregation: In order to extinguish the flames that the first ram had spit forth from out of his mouth.
Above the crashing of the waves I could hear the rams speaking great things concerning the Living God before the assembly, who had come to witness the powers of their healing word. But when they spoke their words clashed and went against one another, not too far between.
Nevertheless, the rams stood fearlessly in the midst of the congregation, facing each other in bitter opposition, kicking and snorting as they prepared to do battle. And bowing their heads in prayer, they charged at full throttle.
And when the rams locked horns, I heard a loud crack of thunder. And all about the arena the mountain rattled. And it was high tide and the waves were battering ferociously against the sea wall. And the boulders were loosened from their places, and the great slabs of marble, granite and slate of their temples broke loose from their foundation and washed out to sea.
And their faith faltered and gave out from under them by way of their pride and shame. And their ministries fell hard against the rocks and broke apart. And their lavish kingdoms were thrown down hard with mighty vengeance against the sea wall and crumbled to pieces.
And the congregation disputed one with the other over the great things which the rams had spoken in their midst: For one spoke vehemently and with great authority, and the other mildly. And the assembly was torn in two and divided by way of the great things which the rams had spoken. And departing from the midst, went their separate ways.
And as I stood wondering what these things might mean, I heard the angel answer and say,
"Marvel not: For I shall show you the cause of the rams' great downfall, with whom they have committed adultery."
And as the angel was yet speaking, behold, up from out of the midst of the congregation arose a she-goat despoiled with the filth of the earth. And she ascended to the crest of the mountain and opened her mouth to speak great things against the rams.
And the she-goat had a small following that went up after her with hammers and chisels that they might carve in stone every glorious word that proceeded out of her mouth. And she lashed out fearlessly against the rams, accusing them of debauchery and treachery. And the congregation was appalled at the rams and cast them into prison because of the glorious words which the she-goat had spoken.
Come and see the terrible sights through the eyes of the visionary.
It was Fall Equinox and I was headed for lower ground when looking up, I saw a great gull circling above. And leading me down the face of the mountain, I was drawn like a magnet to the sea. And being about the second hour of the day, I could hear the surf pounding gently against the rocks as I stood by the water's edge with my feet planted firmly in the sand.
Clutched tightly in the gull's beak I saw a long rope with both its ends dangling in space. And a full moon rose in the Eastern sky above the ocean. And I watched in fascination as an angel took up one end of the rope and looped it around the moon like a noose. And with the other end of the rope still grasped snugly in her bill, the gull soared across the horizon. And flew straight into the sun with the moon towing behind her.
And I watched as the sun was swallowed up by the moon. And the earth was plummeted into total darkness seven minutes. And the stars and planets appeared aligned in a bizarre configuration.
And up from out of the waves came millions of giant salamanders. One by one they crawled until the beach was covered in slime.
And looking up, I again saw the sea gull fly across the horizon tugging the moon behind her. And as the veil of darkness lifted and daylight returned to the earth, I saw the giant amphibians that were caught by the mighty undertow and dragged back out to sea.
Time was virtually swept away as the days, months and years were shortened. There were no more seasons and Dusk and Dawn could not be found. And those grand monuments and towering pillars of stone that the ancient astrologers built came crashing to the ground, one great column upon another. And I saw those who stood by with their sundials fall backward on their heels and flee.
And those that navigate the high seas with compasses and chart their destiny by the stars were blown off course and vanished along with their ships. And all about the face of the deep magnetic storms raged and many more were lost at sea and perished.
And the rotation of the earth was quickened. And the windmills and water wheels of the world were hurled into orbit like spinning tops. And the tides roared furiously as the lunar cycles grew more frequent and the gravitational pull of the moon increased in strength. And I saw those mammoths of the deep that were driven ashore by the hundreds and crushed themselves to death.
Falling flat on my face in the sand, I prayed to God that in His mercy He might spare His servant from harm. And I heard the angel answer and say, "Fear not: For one cycle has passed and a new one is begun! From here on in each year shall consist of two hundred and ninety days. Each month twenty-four days, and each day twenty-one hours. Night and day shall be equally divided in that there will be ten and a half hours of darkness and ten and a half hours of daylight."
And when I had picked myself up, I peered into heaven as would one looking through a seven-dimensional kaleidoscope, and lo and behold, above the wind and weathering there appeared a dazzling phenomena in space: A blazing disk of fire spiraling toward the earth like an enormous dial.
And I saw seven spectacular points of light like the colors of the rainbow shooting forth from out of the wheel like flaming arrows. And upon each of these mysterious crowns were written in glory the seven virtues of faith which come down freely from God to a troubled world.
(c) David Harrington
"Saturn" (c) Aloas Kino
"Indian Arcade Mystery"
On a distant highway in the Western U.S., there was a Native-American roadside exhibit; the kind where billboards announce it miles ahead with mysterious teasers, like "The Thing" and "? Ahead." After I explored the dusty little museum next to a Brand X gas station, I wanted to see the real mystery of the Navajo or the Apache. The guide said it could be arranged for a little more money. Behind the amusements out back, they showed me to a gravel and sand pit. I fell in and was drawn into a magnificent mineral whirlpool. I wanted to be pulled in, but resisted nonetheless. The Indians dashed around screeching out primal incantations. Behind me, I saw an Indian filming me. I was a specimen of the white tribeless ones; those who conquered the wilderness and left a little of its splendor – in a highway amusement arcade.
image & text copyright Carl Linkhart
"Circuitree (c) Stevon Lucero
You've forgotten what you are,
You've traded liberty for far, far less--
A thing of paltry grasping...
Yes; find a wild place,
far from noise, from stress,
From senseless orders and obedients
And mystic pretense (bureaucratic 'gods'
There your stupored sense
can rouse to breezes, scents,
a world entirely apart
From vivid nightmares taking the form of days...
Reconnect. Touch your hand
to rough bark. Scent. Taste the wind. Feel..
Walk down a woods' trail;
know some prairie's tremendous space
Its flat unbarrier'd leagues and planes;
the floating weight of cloud and miles and
You are of this, the creatures, the sounds, the
Growths, dangers, scope--
this: the soul's fierce quietness...!
Robert David Michael (Cerello)
Contributors to Mindful Design
is an artist, writer, and seeker, interested in the merging of all religions and all science into ONE spirituality, believing that the body is aligned with Mother Earth, while the spirit is aligned with the universe. For more information, you can catch up with Rosa at http://www.somethingtosay.gather.com/
PO 522 Clinton, Whidbey Island, WA 98236
Artist, author Jerry Wennstrom was born in New York on January 13, 1950. He attended Rockland Community College and the State University of New Paltz. After producing a large body of work, at age 29 he set out to discover the rock-bottom truth of his life. For years he questioned the limits of his creative life as a studio painter. After destroying all of his art and giving away everything he owned, Jerry began a life of unconditional trust, allowing life to provide all that was needed. He lived this way for 15 years. In 1998 he moved to Washington State, where he eventually married Marilyn Strong and produced a large new body of art. Marilyn and Jerry’s charming Whidbey Island home is now filled with his unique interactive sculptures and paintings. Jerry also built a 40-foot meditation tower on his property, which is featured along with his story in a book by Laura Chester called Holy Personal.
Jerry Wennstrom’s unusual story is told in his book, The Inspired Heart: An Artist’s Journey of Transformation (foreword by Thomas Moore) published by Sentient Publications, in Holy Personal by Laura Chester and in the Parabola Magazine documentary film, In the Hands of Alchemy: The Art and Life of Jerry Wennstrom. There is also a new Sentient Publications DVD with the same name, which includes a second feature film called Studio Dialogue. Studio Dialogue is a presentation Jerry did before a live audience with music by Susan McKeown, sung by Marilyn Strong. Jerry travels with his wife Marilyn Strong internationally lecturing, teaching, showing the films and presenting their work. He writes a monthly column called "Between the Lines" for Inferential Focus, a New York City consulting firm (“Think Tank.”)
Jerry Wennstrom has presented at the Birmingham Art Museum, the Seattle Art Museum, the EMP (Experience Music Project,) Glen Arbor Art Association, the Old Firehouse Art Center, Other Side Arts, UCS-NAROPA (Wisdom University,) the Vancouver Public Library, Western New Mexico University, California Institute of the Arts and NYU. He has also done over 50 radio, TV and magazine interviews and art features.
His web site is http://www.handsofalchemy.com/ or http://www.jerrywennstrom.com/
is seeking clarity, wisdom, and ecstatic union with visions and art. She is always moving into new (or resurrected) projects, including Emerging Visions, visionary art ezine; Seers and Seekers Yahoo Group; The Healing Dance Network Yahoo Group; Visionary Arts and Minds Tribe; anthologies of her writings; a leisurely emerging novel working title: Something Sacred; as well as her Flash Utopian Fiction Project: series of flash fiction pieces around a federation of diverse villages each working out their methods of community life -- little dramatic impacts illustrating creative solutions to social problems (temporily shelved due to lack of collaborators).
check out my book: Words from the Sky: http://www.lulu.com/libramoon
where you can also find
libramoon's observatory (blog)
I am a self-taught, visionary surrealist painter (for lack of a better definition). I believe that reality is a cultural consensus, that people perceive the world through the "filter" of their society. This conditioned perception of reality, along with the tendency to grow less observant of the world around us as we become adults, dulls our awareness. Our concept of an object profoundly affects the way we see it. Often, we are seeing our concept of the object more than we are actually looking at the object itself. When someone is unfamiliar wih something, they examine it more carefully than they do when they have a preconceived notion of what it is. I like to take images that seem familiar and render them unfamiliar, allowing the viewer to see them as if for the first time. I agree with Magritte that an artist's work should "evoke a sense of mystery" and feel that the best advice ever given to an artist was director Sergei Diaghilev's command to Jean Cocteau "Astonish Me."
I was born in a small town in Oklahoma. I began painting in oils around the age of twelve and produced a considerable body of work before graduating from high school in 1968. Although I attended O.S.U. as an art major for several years, I never enrolled in painting classes so I don't consider myself to be formally trained as a painter. I have continued to paint throughout my life and have had work in juried shows in various cities over the years, including Los Angeles, New York and a museum show in Brooklyn.
I am currently in the process of making my paintings available as Giclee prints on paper and on canvas, mounted on a wooden stretcher. Feel free to e-mail me with any questions about my work or about availability of paintings and prints.
My Art is a language, in which I converse with spirit, the world, myself and the people around me. Subliminal, whispering or screaming, it is a guide if I allow it to be. It is my teacher as it patiently waits for me to listen… it is a journey that is endless, one that will help lead me to the awakening of my full potential.
I was born April 19, 1978 in Colorado to my fabulous parents You & Jackson. I have been blessed with the support of my family and extended family to pursue that which I felt was most important. Starting in 1996 my travels & projects bounced me between Bali, Indonesia and Vienna, Austria. I studied for 1,5yrs with Michael Fuchs, and was a painting assistant to Ernst Fuchs for 6 yrs. Michael taught me to ‘see’ the world around me thru the brush and Old Master techniques in painting. Ernst Fuchs helped guide me to ‘listen’, which opened up other ways of ‘seeing’ as well. I have been blessed with a beautiful Studio in Vienna’s Culture House ‘WUK’, this has provided me with community, space and time to discover my own visions, share questions and absorb information.
My dreams are vast and grand, reaching around the globe, and further, to touch, share and inspire as many creatures as possible to awaken to their inherent right to be creators of their lives and the world around them/us.
That we become aware of the necessity of community, of our connectedness, that we globalize thru the appreciation of our differences and the sharing of our personal expressions.
By following the line of the brush, I am dedicated to the vastness of the Imagination – on a Quest to discover new and grand territories, with the path ahead full of wonderful & amazing surprises!
I'm a woman, been born several times, and celebrate Summer while others enjoy Winter.
My email address: firstname.lastname@example.org
was born in Wheatcroft, KY, in 1955. He is a product of the turbulent 50’s and 60’s in the rural southern United States. After the death of his parents he relocated to Indianapolis, Indiana where he lived with his sister and was introduced to poetry during his high school years. Also at this time, he began the first of many sexual and interpersonal relationships with white women. In that regard, he believes that everyone wants what they are not supposed to have. His work is sometimes angry, sad and poignant, but always true to his life experiences. He has been featured at many open mics and has competed in regional and national poetry slams. He has been a featured reader at the Seattle erotic art festival for the last 3 years. He is a single father of a 20 year old son and a 14 year old daughter. He has worked many different jobs in the manufacturing sector. He currently works as an electroplater in the defense and aerospace industry. His poetry is an attempt to chronicle the life of a working black man in modern day America. It explores the darker side of life, sex, interpersonal relationships and race. It is reminiscent of writers like Mumia Abu Jamal and Bell Hooks. He performs regularly with a dinner theater troupe called Little Red Studio here in Seattle, WA (http://www.littleredstudioseattle.com/) where he reads poetry and writes pieces for other performers and skits. He is a generative artist, that is to say, all of his works are original. He now lives in Covington, WA with his girlfriend, her son, his son, two dogs and a cat.
David Lee Jones
16214 S.E. 256th Pl.
Covington, WA. 98042
and if people want to see my work, they could come see me perform at the little red studio (http://www.littleredstudioseattle.com/)
is a freelance writer, poet, editor, photographer, artist and event organiser in Perth WA. She has a BA degree in Writing, which she completed at Edith Cowan University, with some of her studies undertaken at Murdoch University and Flinders University. She is currently the HaikuOz WA Regional Representative. She was a co-founder of WA Poets Inc, the annual WA Spring Poetry Festival, Creative Connections Art and Poetry exhibitions, and Walking on Water readings. Her poetry and haiku have been widely published internationally and nationally. She has also had success in national poetry competitions, and many of her short stories, articles and reviews have also been published. She was the WA state co-ordinator for National Poetry Week in 2006 and 2007. No website yet, but soon … Email: email@example.com.
I'm very excited to have finished my latest book of poems, Snakebite, and currently am planning an e format release of it. A new book of devotional poems is in the works, so far entitled, Adore. In addition to keeping the flow of poetry alive year after wheel of the year, I am now taking my studies of herbal medicine to the next level by growing herbs and preparing my own medicines. Last year I received my third Reiki attunement; and I recently began teaching classes in Reiki and passing attunements. I am enjoying this work immensely and learning so much in the process. My work as a healer and my work as a poet flow from the same source. I am grateful to be able to continue and deepen my understanding of life and love through my Art and artful living. You can reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I would love to hear from you about my poetry, the healing arts,or to share in awe over the Beauty of this sweet Earth.
Forman refers to these works as “thread paintings,” for although they are not made with pigment, they often assimilate the appearance of oil paintings. At times the work is deftly realistic—as in his depiction of light streaming into the window of a frame shop, or the view of a darkened train tunnel—but others are composed with such a dense interplay of imagery that they appear entirely abstract, that is, until they are examined more carefully. Each work in this latter style is preceded by a series of “cartoons” (a Renaissance term that applies to preparatory drawings made the same size as the final image, from which the artist works directly). It is here that Forman’s approach is most effectively revealed, for these cartoons—executed on the surface of large sheets of paper—are used as templates, transferring images that are composed of layer-upon-layer of different, though always related, subjects, so that the final product is a compressed visual amalgam of the individual cartoon images. The only historical precedent that comes to mind are the transparencies of Francis Picabia, although the technique Forman utilizes causes his pictures to take on an entirely different appearance.
Indeed, for years, Forman was under the impression that his use of thread was unique, that is, until walking through Greenwich Village one afternoon he chanced upon an object made entirely with yarn imbedded into wax. Inquiring further, he learned that there were other pieces like it, and that they were made by the Huichol Indians of northern Mexico. In the early 1990s, Forman received a Fulbright Fellowship to travel to their villages in the Sierra Madre Mountains, where he discovered that yarn painting was a highly developed folk tradition among the native people there. He has since maintained close ties with the Huichol, many of whom have accepted him as a kindred spirit. Almost immediately, their rich culture and complex belief systems (they use peyote in ritualistic ceremonies to achieve ecstatic states when communicating with their gods) found their way into the visual vocabulary of Forman’s work, enriching it, few would argue, in dramatically new and exciting ways.
Lifelong artist, Jude Cowell, currently works primarily in oil and watercolor pencil on paper. This Georgia native's drawings may be viewed online at Cosmic Persona Designs Art Gallery, and at Dreamyfish Art, where postcards and limited edition prints are available upon request. Cosmic Persona Designs is a collection of archetypal feminine images, cosmic-visionary art (some from an earlier series, Children's World), children's art, and more. An astrological influence is apparent, for Jude has been a serious astrology novice for 10 years, and is writer and publisher of the Political Astrology blog, Stars Over Washington. Dreamyfish Art is a gallery of Saturn's realism--botanically-drawn tropical fish portraits--blended with Neptune's watery, illusory qualities--a combination which neatly describes the artist's natal Sun Capricorn-Moon Pisces personality. Fish dream, too, and here you may have a sneak peek into their most favorite and secret dream locations undersea at Dreamyfish Art. Several moons ago, Jude was an art student at Atlanta School of Art (now College of Art) on Peachtree Street, and even now you may detect a Fashion Illustration, Layout, and Design influence in her work, especially in the Cosmic Persona Designs collection. You never know what might show up at Cosmic Persona, but you are cordially invited to stop by when you can...and remember that fish dream, too!
For queries, to offer feedback, or for ordering details, email artist at: email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org
Wishing Peace, Love, and Art to All,
http://cosmicpersonadesigns.blogspot.com/ , http://dreamyfishart.blogspot.com/ , http://secretmoonart.blogspot.com/ , http://judecowell.blog.com/ ,
http://limslimericks.blogspot.com/ , and http://starsoverwashington.blogspot.com/
Born 1953, Liverpool. Have worked as a librarian, peanut butter processor, dishwasher and dogsbody in too many hotels to mention. Also an artist - have contributed many black and white third world studies to numerous journals globally, often affiliated with Ananda Marga Yoga society for whom I've done voluntary work in S.E. Asia, including mural painting and work in various social projects. Also worked as a volunteer at a large orphanage in Thailand. Currently making and hand-painting jewelry/ craft boxes displaying fairies, dragons, Winnie the Pooh. Working off and on at a few appalling fantasy novels. Occasionally make dolls houses, castles and rocking horses... A regular contributor to a number of poetry websites.
I am a visionary artist.
My work is inspired by visions received during shamanic ceremonies with ayahuasca.
I invite you to take a look into the magical world of ayahuasca through my paintings.
See more on my website: http://www.nisvan.com/
i am back in india... am making collages of the bo tree with buddha sitting under them... and enjoying...
In human psychology and in contemporary art, there is an area between the purely abstract and the purely realistic. This is the area in which Denver artist Stevon Lucero maneuvers, exploring the edges of his subconscious mind where thought begins to intrude on the real world. Out of images seen in dreams, visions and separate reality experiences, Lucero creates powerful painted metaphors. His paintings are neither reflections of the visible world as in realism, nor depictions of the subconscious as in surrealism. Lucero's unique visualizations are somewhere in between – so he calls his work Metarealism. The psychological border area is the source of his creativity. The reality within is more intriguing than the external reality. Internal images become paintings when they have a powerful effect on Lucero. They also become messages that have something to say to all audiences. In his paintings, Lucero is always synthesizing what his introspective vision produces, gleaning forms, themes, and ideas that portray the similarities that unite humanity psychologically, not the differences that divide it perceptually.
Stevon Lucero can be contacted at: http://www.stevonlucero.com/
or email: email@example.com
Doing illustrations for books and magazines, Long created the cover for HarperCollins’ Digital Art for the 21st Century. This cover for the 21st Century was singled out in the “Editor's Choice” column of Locus Magazine as a “handsome cover.”
Long’s cover art appears on publications by HarperCollins, PS Publishing, iBooks, Pocket Books, Delirium Books, Ballistic Media, Swimming Kangaroo, and others as well as in his 70-plus technical books.
Talk-show host Victor Thorn named Long as one of the three “best graphic artists in the entire world.”
See more of Long's artwork online at: http://DuncanLong.com/
I currently reside in Portland, Oregon with my wife Dawn and two sons. I have lived here for nearly twenty years now, but am originally from the East Coast.
The pieces here are from my collection of short, spiritually-charged allegories written over a twenty year period. These stories are rich with symbolism and strong characterization, but are both figurative and literal.
Several of my spiritual poems have recently been published in other online journals. They are as follows:
1) "Tiny Seed" - Esoteric Quarterly, Summer 2007 edition
2) "Golden Harp" - the-journals.org/harrington/harp.htm
3) "Flashback" - Mystic Living Today, August 2007 issue
4) "Great Mother" - Autumn Leaves, upcoming Sept. issue
my web site of dream paintings; many have text about the dreams they
are based on. And my email: firstname.lastname@example.org
Robert Michael Cerello
was born in Glen Cove, Long Island, New York, and presently divides time between San Diego, CA, USA and Europe. He is an Objectivist philosopher and author. He graduated from Sayville High School, Pomona College, Laverne University's Teacher's program and holds an MA from the University of Virginia and an ESL certificate from S.D.S.U. He has written plays, novels, short stories, songs, screenplays, criticism, non-fiction, verse and poetry for forty years. He aspires to be a scientist of the arts and is well-known as a lecturer, actor, singer and teacher.
I see a portrait whenever my eyes are open and my spirit is alive: not a flat, stiff, frozen image, but a living breathing aliveness. A lake, a mountain, a tree, a flower, a kitty cat, even people, all have spirit, all breathe, all deserve just a bit more than a snapped shot.
My photographic images are my way of writing with light, drawing the portraits of the life, spirit, beauty and truth who so often sit calmly waiting for us to notice them.
My desire to write with light started when I was nine years old, when I stepped off a plane in Djakarta, Indonesia in 1956, just after the dry season's normal 3pm rain. The sky was an intense blue, the sun bright clear and close, and the surrounding forest was an intense green, and everywhere I looked I saw diamonds glittering. The diamonds were the raindrops glistening in those few moments of life before evaporation would take them away. It was the most intense visual experience I've ever had, but it's only recently that I've connected it with my attempts at photographic art.