When common objects are transformed into intriguing pieces of art.
I see so many different things in this strange still life!
Monthly Archives: February 2015
Milky Quartz, Ocean Caressed
Rocks and Mineral
Beauty in the simplest of still lifes.
Little Bird
In the morning, when their song is the sweetest.
Not Tipped
Perfectly balanced.
Shadow Play: Burj al Arab?
A bit of shell in New Jersey, wishing for a warmer beach.
[photo from http://www.mediastream.jumeirah.com]
Our Capricious Wind
Who knew our beach wind could do angles?
I’ve had this poem memorized since I was very, very little. I rarely feel the wind, or see its work without having these lines run through my memory.
Who Has Seen the Wind?
By Christina Rossetti
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
The Ocean’s Talking Stick
Talking sticks are part of Native American culture, particularly the tribes from the Plains (Cheyenne, Blackfoot). They are used in discussions, permitting individuals to share points of view. Each item on the stick has meaning.
This still life is evocative of the shape and form of a Native American talking stick. The reeds and leaves speak of the land, the feather of the sky, and the bubbles of the ocean. This “talking stick”, found just at the water’s edge, speaks of the place where all these elements meet, the tide line.
Nature Imitates Art
With single digit temperatures, ocean water had frozen along the upper tide line this past weekend. This small shell fragment would be insignificant along a summer tide line. Buried within the frozen and crystallized sea water, though, it transformed into a small piece of impressionist art – painterly, indistinct – drawing me into the image.
I love beautiful landscapes and still lifes, but I also love gentle, almost mysterious compositions such as this one.
Presidents Day: Red, Ice, and Blue
The rim of ice around the edges of red stone almost glowed in the grey-day light, but I couldn’t capture it well. It is committed to my memory, and maybe you can imagine it.
Tide Line Still Life 