Friday, March 31
Friday, March 24
Run your hands over any part of this chair, made by my husband, Tim Carney,
and it will remind you of the smoothest skin, or warm glass. Tim polishes his furniture to a soft gleam, super smooth. People can't resist touching ... when they see this rocker.
This is the crest rail for his first rocking chair ... it's made of curly mango. The rest of the rocker is of mahogany.
To see more of Tim's furniture, check out his website, Timothy's Fine Woodworking.
and his blog, Shoptalk
Sunday, March 19
This digital painting for Beautiful Sunday, is dedicated to one of my flickr friends, Christine, whose photo-imagery I truly enjoy. She has a keen interest in and love of horses and all things-horse ... and she is consistently generous with her comments not only on my photos, but on many others as well. Christine, may all your dreams come true.
Thursday, March 16
This is from one of my most favorite poets, whom I've quoted many times, May Swenson. Seems lots of people are discovering her these days.
Originally uploaded by MontanaRaven
with my breath
to make a mountain,
with my sucked-in breath
a valley, with my pushed-out
breath a mountain. I will make
a valley wider than the whisper, I
will make a higher mountain than the cry,
will with my will breathe a mountain. I will
with my will breathe a valley. I will push out
a mountain, suck in a valley, deeper than the shout,
YOU MUST DIE, harder, heavier, sharper a mountain than
the truth, YOU MUST DIE. I will remember. My breath will
make a mountain. My will will remember to will. I, suck-
ing, pushing, I will breathe a valley, I will breathe a mountain
--- May Swenson 1913 - 1989
to enjoy more poetry from other poetry fanatics like me ,,,, go to Liz's blog.
Tuesday, March 14
My Accidental Self:
For Jean, inspired by the many facets of her inner self she shares so courageously.
I was shooting some interior photos of Tim's woodworking, in a house that had lots of mirrors. It was a challenge to stay out of the photos, with all the mirrors and reflections. I noticed one photo where I didn't get out of the room fast enough after pressing the timed shutter. This is a very small section of a larger photo ... my accidental self-portrait.
Okay, so Self Portrait Tuesday is obviously supposed to be about our selves, so it may seem weird I'm sharing just one SP of my own, while sending you off to see someone else's photos. But to me it fits even the idea that I am writing about and sharing my own photo today and that is because my friend, Jean Albus, is the one who has given me so much inspiration to accept myself just the way I am. I have learned so much from her in a short time and look forward to a long, long time of being friends. Jean reminded me today that "There are no accidents." The comments on my photo make up a stimulating conversation about self-portraits.
If you have even just one free minute and you want to see some awesome self portraits, please check out Jean's album of strong self-portraits, My Aging Beauty. There are only 6 photos, so it doesn't have to take long to see all of them. Here's another album of hers I admire, Love Myself.
Monday, March 13
to be used without my permission and credited to me. You can find my email address in my profile.
Thank you for your consideration.
Thursday, March 9
try to catch a dream then it will take you
riding, wild through the night wind
the tighter you cling the wilder it flies
wait a little, loosen your hold
look sideways at the shadows
the night riders will find you
when you least expect them
Sunday, March 5
This is dedicated to all the mothers and fathers who have raised their children to adulthood and let them fly, whether those children be human children or creative works they have brought to life ...
And for those who have embarked on the second half of their lives, in hopes they find fullfillment, fruition and wisdom, spiritual seeking and renewed love of life.
This is for those parents who have fledged their children from the nest ... who have let go of the ones they love the most.
milkweed mother, full bodied in the
evening light, her belly bulging
children round and round, she wants
to wait to let them go. keep them
til they're ready, wants
to hold them just a little
while. she turns her palm
up, lets it shake and glide, she knows
the zephyr beckons, she hears the
quiet, slightest sigh and feels air's
breath come on. it pulls them
lightly, lifts their silken
strands with gentle tugs, floats
their tiny bodies away then back.
they hesitate, she knows their
dreams. she pries small fingers from
her ruffled skirts, she smiles
and lets them go. like shy
ballerinas they take the stage look back
then lift and twirl and brighten.
she wonders will they be strong will
they fall well, will they go far,
will they be tender, will they remember?
she trembles, as they fly, she sees
herself again her hands belly breasts
empty and melancholy finds her.
she has released her brood to their
blind aerial dance. they gesture to her.
relieved and just a little lost, she
cups her palms into a golden
bowl as if to carry water to
her lips. like smoke, they fly, the ones
she loves the most they fly into the light
and she, left back finds wisdom, rest and
dreaming, dances with the light before it
sinks below the sky.
to see a set of photos that accompany this one, please go to my flickr set here.
In honor of Joleen's request/idea that we post something "beautiful" on Sundays. I heard about "Beautiful Sunday from my friend, Kim in Seattle (on her Something to Say blog) This is something I made from a really really bad reject photo. It's more beautiful than the original, that's for sure. ;))
Friday, March 3
Thursday, March 2
And so, I would like to share a poem by Galway Kinnell, one of my favorite poets whom I discovered when I was in highschool and just starting to write my own poetry. I was re-introduced to Kinnell in the early 70s by one of my university art profs, Ritchie Kehl. Kehl was the single most influential art teacher I ever encountered and he got me started on collecting quotes to use in my art pieces. I will be forever grateful to him. The poem follows this image.
Saint Francis and The Sow
stands for all things,
even for those things that don't flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;
as Saint Francis
put his hand on the creased forehead
of the sow, and told her in words and in touch
blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow
began remembering all down her thick length,
from the earthen snout all the way
through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,
from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine
down through the great broken heart
to the blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering
from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths
sucking and blowing beneath them:
the long, perfect loveliness of sow.
-- © 1980 by Galway Kinnell
For another poem I posted with one of my collages, on Tuesday this week (I couldn't wait til Thursday, Liz!) check it out here.