quote of the day – Vernon God Little by DBC Pierre

“She has a lunch date, and her life is all separate, and full of sunny-smelling skin and panty lace. I just have grisly fucken reality, uninvited with its smell of escalator motors and blood, and whirrs and beeps that suck away your shine. Dreams are so damn perfect, but reality just always tugs the other way.”

Riika Sormunen

I’m reckoning she’s Finnish. Seemingly influenced by Aubrey Beardsley, another one of my faves.

Cherry Stern – find more here

Thórdís Aðalsteinsdóttir, Iceland

Carnegie Art Award – Every second year, the members of a jury compile a group of artists representing a diverse spectrum of Nordic contemporary painting. Thórdís Aðalsteinsdóttir is from Iceland.

Spot Portraits

Arresting yet disturbing – Spot Portraits by Timothy Cummings

Numbers

She wrings out of her days the wants of a thousand people.

She squeezes from her pores the expectations of millions.

She knows inside herself there is one song that should be sung, but is only being hummed.

She walks a path much like this one, but it is a billion miles away.

Heart Words

Flat, splat water in the golden bowl.
Pouring out over my table, and
Covering my breakfast in a shimmer.
I was eating plums when the bowl overfilled,
Now I’m standing ankle deep.

impending doom

Impending Doom, oil on panel, 2006

Paintings + Drawings Jonathan Weiner (Viner)

Thanks to Padacia for the inspiring link

There’s a twig man in my dreams

Observer of the march of ants, wondering about the start and the finish of the queue.

He is knitted and folded into beautiful shapes, silhouetted against the dim.

Collector of pearls, of stones, of wasp nests and moss. Hunter of feathers and broken glass.

A roughened heart fully exposed, beating through the knot of vines.

Simultaneously he scoops me up, and I scoop him.

We weave together, tangled, in glorious harmony surprised.

Twig man against my skin.

Box

This piece was written for the Twisted Story Tale prompt in the Red Bubble community. It was my first stab at a story which was meant to be under 250 words, have something to do with boxes and have a twist at the ending. It was hard going to be so disciplined, and not my usual way of working. However, I think I might have managed it. This needs the hand of a stern editor. Anyone?

Tears

I have been mulling over a piece of artwork which an artist on Red Bubble had posted. It resonated with me. I had kept the photo for a week or so, wondering how to respond. Finally, I grabbed an old door which had been loitering about the place – which old doors are wont to do – and decided it needed an upgrade. Saturday afternoon loomed large, and I started to paint. Here are the results.