09 October 2013
autumn promised nothing.
but rolling in light
wading in deep
breakfasting on color.
it's an altogether new sensation fumbling into oils without a box of soap to stand on - consumed simply by the changing light we're gifted.
no message this series - just study. just light play. deep breath and color and a need to get closer; forefinger finds her in the sound. brushwork's winter's challenge. gotta get in and get dirty before the light changes. ahtumn.
02 August 2013
i escaped to a high stool in a high window having had my fill of air and art - my art walk consisting of just three galleries in august. eyes dry but distracted, impatient with the gatherings and pretty frocks & hugging in the halls. gut full of empty, needing to write, needing to eat. a plate of spice and a glass of calm, and a pencil and envelope and window -
when a good distance below, invisible as those others had been- those whose stories were nestling in my gut with the drink, nestling on the page - down there near the bus stop i watched his story leaf out. a black man spotted something black on the other side of the cyclone fencing - in the brambles of blackberry & summer spent sweet pea and hip-high golden wheat. as he climbed the fence, the train tracks below the hill beyond the fence and a train that might come added risk to moment, and my dinner lost it's heat. the moment before, sometime before thursday became first thursday: a crime. a backpack stolen, rooted through, thrown in the proverbial bushes. forgotten. in the moment, my urban contemporary naturalist names it treasure. fashion, elegance, artistic tension hum two stories below on my side of the street. on his, something is left in one of the pockets, and he has the time. headphones! backpack back in it's underneath place,cheating the train tracks, not tearing his pants on the way back over the fence, graceful and alone there, smile growing as he fits the treasure in his ears, makes his way to safety, so full of gratitude, reaching up to the sky to thank jesus, invisible to the bubbles on the street - only jesus.
his eyes meet mine up high in my window, and his smile grows, and mine does too, and he reaches up and my hand is touching the glass and his hand is touching my hand through the window.
who was i kidding. the tears came before the thought.
01 August 2013
if i could have slept with you tonight
curled up with the shadow of you
on cold clean white paint
with the cello
with the cello
with the cello-
i breathe in and out through my teeth
weeping would be all
23 March 2013
such a struggle to hold off on the doing till stage is set. for one who tends to think it best to work it till it's ready, woodshedding this time - all the part & parcel stillness - tended toward the painful... the meditative. and this cyclist does not know how to sit still. did not know. had to learn. rounder now, hope pieces that come- if and when- will be richer for this patience. whether in smarts or cynicism, we shall see.
digging in the dirt has commenced - betwixt sunbreaks and gropple. digging through text with intention- my grandmother's narrations; stanzas memorized with mom that summer she decided to make housework memorable; romantic sunbleached undergrad assignments. we have a week left of march, then march into a month of poetry - a month of responding to it. having lost two full seasons of film to my sweet old olympus, there's no choice but to hit the drawing board hard for may magic. bam.
06 May 2012
measuring abundance in transects & babysitting offers, species counts, and seashells with pinholes perfect for dangling- spring stars for the studio.
eagle's there when the uphill gets too steep; an osprey in the soft focus when for sure the sharper gifts me my first rufus.
time to get dirt under the nails again, and paint where it shouldn't be.
in my dreams.
05 November 2011
woodshedding is good, for i've learned there is still much to learn of the business of arting. once a trail's found me, a scale's next up in the queue. weighing audience and intention, how to reach who- when that's my job and when it is not. point blank he said 'triple your prices'. when accessibility's where i live this line throws me off balance. still, stretching one to experience what's for sale might broaden access at the end of the blustery day.
cycles & cycles: whimsy & the things that worry me bayview corner march 9 - april 30
fig*ment - aug 7-sept 2 art/not terminal gallery
address traveling light & re-examine placemaking.
Pieces claim the language of a lifestory imagined,
and invite new meaning to be made.
opening reception: 7 august 2010. 7-10pm
BAWM: august 19, 6-9pm
artists looking to address posting or portfolio requirements for gallery submission can feel confident placing their collections in the capable hands of local photographer, adrian wyard.
an accomplished artist in his own right, adrian delivers consistent quality in a variety of lighting conditions with efficiency, creativity & humor.