Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Wave


In another installment of illustration & poetry collaboration between the brilliant Quirine Dongelmans and myself; Wave.



Wandering.
Dreaming shadows.
Never cease to exist.


Wave; watercolor, D. Renée Wilson.  


There is quite a lot I could say about the undercurrents of this piece, no pun intended. How thoughts, emotions, and action are seamlessly linked in the cycle of creation with stagnation being an illusion, but I've already written about it on the Patreon page, and I think Quirine's piece sums it up quite nicely. I don't discuss the meaning with her before she writes, either. Funny how that works, out. 

 What kind of waves are carrying you?

What waters lift you into action?

Can you change the swells of the tide?

Is your mind the turning of the globe or own the Fates your winds?

Whatever you need for your next piece of wandering, may you find fair winds and following seas.

~D. Renée




Rain and Renewal

My collaboration with "Q" a few weeks ago, see the post here,
was a fun change of pace for me. 

As it's been gray and rainy all day, I'm sharing another piece and poem created with the award winning writer, actor, film-maker, and now poet extraordinaire.

I won't go into details, but it's been a rough month. 
Her poem for this piece was especially poignant, and we had quite a bit to say and commiserate on regarding personal tribulations and the sometimes rocky paths an artist's life presents.

Excuse the use of a trite phrase, but we truly are soul surfers.

There can be a deluge of overwhelm, pain or loneliness at times, but for an artist there isn't really an alternative. Our vulnerability and openness, our fiery and sometimes easily bruised hearts, are what help us to flow with the emotional current we are supposed to ride. 

For eons the emotions have been tied to water.

It is also what heals and renews us.



Tears from the sky. Pouring. Pain. Sadness. Despair.

Water splashes. Diluting. Lifting. Giving life.

Mend your reflection; flourish.

~Quirine Dongelmans



Wow.
She really boiled it all down, didn't she?

I love her writing.

Visit Q's website to learn more about her & her art.


If you like my Rain Break painting, you can click here to see details without the text, 

or add it to your collection while it's in my DPW gallery. 

Thanks for stopping by to see the collab. 

Subscribe to the newsletter and send an email with your links if you're a writer that would like to submit to collaborate on the project.

What do you do when you're in the doldrums?

Here's to the rain & her renewal,

~D. Renée


National I Love My Feet Day & a Haiku Collaboration

Today is National I Love My Feet Day!

I created a piece that fits today's theme and am very excited to share the first in a collaborative series with poets and writers.
But first...

If there's one thing I'll never understand, it's those people that can't go barefoot.
You know the ones. They hate feet. They hate their own feet. They always wear socks. 
They turn their noses up at other people's feet. 

I don't have a foot fetish, but I seriously love feet. 
What's not to love about a mechanism that houses over 7,000 nerve endings?!
28 bones, 30 joints, and more than 100 muscles, tendons, and ligaments working together to support the rest of the amazing machine that is my body.


I don't even have "pretty" feet. My second toe is much longer than my big toe. 
(Seriously, sometimes it scrapes under on the sidewalk.) 
My feet are long with really high arches, and big, bony ankles.
 I wear a 9 1/2 to a 10 depending on the shoe, and I'm short of 5' 6" on my best posture days. 
Unless I'm somewhere that requires shoes, I go barefoot most of the time.
Therefore, I don't have the softest of soles. 
I also run and walk long distances, which leaves me with callouses and blisters.
But you know what? Those long, rough feet carry me for miles and miles.
They root me down into balancing yoga postures, and they bring me much needed joy when a rough day calls for a dance break.

I created this piece to remind me to take more time to honor my feet, but also of the connection our feet gives us to the Earth and its energy.

I am very honored to share with you my watercolor and ink illustration and the haiku it inspired, written by award winning writer and director, Quirine "Q" Dongelmans.




Rooted are the feet
To Mother Earth, universe
Show them loving care

Thank you so much to Quirine for collaborating with me on this project.
I absolutely love her writing, and I hope you do, too.
You can visit "Q's" page and read about her and her work by  clicking here.

If you like the illustration Grounding you can visit my DPW gallery to see a detailed view without the text. The unframed original will be in a low bid auction this month.

Okay then, I'm going spend some qt with my infrared foot spa. 

Thanks for stopping by, and I really hope you give your feet some extra love today.
They deserve it, and so do you.

XOXO,







Auld Lang Syne; lyrics to the song that makes me weep for no good reason



Last sketch of 2015 (probably);
 Life drawing, quick charcoal & pastel sketch on mi-teintes, Auld Lang Syne,
click through to read sketch narrative.
The Scots have given us many wonderful things, 
and tonight we will sing a tune that is perhaps one of their most far reaching creations.

Penned by poet Robert Burns, this song stirs my soul like no other.

It's one of the most beautiful songs in the world, and it is sung all over the globe.
It doesn't matter if I'm having a blast, this song starts and I'm all choked up.
Seriously. It's like this song embodies all the melancholy I could ever possibly feel in the span of five minutes.

Literally translated, auld lang syne means "old long since", or long, long ago, days gone by, etcetera..

For the record, it's basically a song about remembering people and times gone by, 
not about forgetting them, but you do what you gotta do on New Year's Eve.

(But My God, the line about the "seas between us broad have roared"...*blinks back tears*)

And taking a cup of kindness is raising a glass and toasting to times gone by. 

Below are the modern lyrics, because Scottish is hard. 

(Visit Scotland.org to learn more about Burns and the original Scottish dialect lyrics.)



Auld Lang Syne

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

Chorus:

For auld lang syne, my dear*, 
For auld lang syne,


We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne,

(this "my dear" is sometimes "my jo" or love)


We two have run about the hills

And pulled the daisies fine;

But we've wandered many the weary foot

Since auld lang syne.


Chorus

We two have paddled in the stream,

From noon till dinner time;

But the seas between us broad have roared,

Since auld lang syne.


Chorus

And there's a hand, my trusty friend!

And give a hand o' thine!

And we'll take a right good willy waught, (goodwill drink of ale)

For auld lang syne.



Chorus

And surely you will buy your *cup (*pint)

And surely I'll buy mine!

And we'll take a cup of kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.


Chorus


 (yes, again)





Stay safe out there tonight.
May you look back with love, 
release what you don't need, 
and take a cup o'kindness~

Always





Apple A Day Challenge #1 - Apple Picking and Overthinking with Robert Frost



 After Apple Picking, 8"x10", ink & pastel on 138 lb Canson

For the Apple A Day art challenge I'm participating in, I decided to start off a little heavy by creating a handwritten calligram using the words from one of my favorite poems,
"After Apple Picking"
By Robert Frost
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
I cannot rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking trough
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and disappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.
And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking: I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
  I chose to depict the apple core to represent the theme of hunger and endings.
"...Of the great harvest I myself desired."  
  The ladder, apples, and sleep can be metaphor for many things and an analysis post is a whole other ballgame. Personally speaking, here are just a few applications that ring particularly clear presently-
  •  Accumulation of knowledge and climbing toward truth.
    "My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
    Toward heaven still,"
  • Chasing ambitions and saving material wealth throughout life.
    "There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
    Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall."
  • Our perception of reality and its toll on our life/work balance.
    "What form my dreaming was about to take.
    Magnified apples appear and disappear,...
     "My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
    It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
    I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend."
  • Simple sensual autumn nostalgia. The interpretations are wide and deep on this work, but the beauty and simplicity of Frost's words can be appreciated at face value. As an autumn baby raised in the Midwest, the sights and smells of fall are rooted in my core and illicit a deeply emotional response. This point brings me back to the crux of autumn and its universal implications;
    "But I am done with apple-picking now.
    Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
    The scent of apples: I am drowsing off." 
    Death is the ultimate sleep. We can't be sure what will come of our harvest, but the apple picking will end. Do we worry about filling baskets? What goes in the cider bin? I can only try to work hard yet enjoy the task and hope the apples I have picked feed those I leave behind.
    Happy picking,
    D. Renée

 Click here to bid on "After Apple Picking" in the Daily Paintworks auction. 
And join me during the challenge for a chance to win an original from this series.

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