Like I said getting a good likeness of someone in a portrait is a very tenuous grasp...I start out well...looks like them...hey I captured that...just a little off...Oh Crap! Still, I keep trying.
The tables were covered in white paper. Crayons, pastels, and smooth sticks waited quietly. Then came Lucy’s glittery purse—her 8-year-old hands had filled it with stones to pass along, one by one, to the strangers around the table.
We traced them. Pushed them. Held them.
Then we let the colors lead:
-Red for emotion.
-Yellow for curiosity.
-Blue for memory.
Each color came with music, with story, with space.
At the Museum of Wisconsin Art, we made marks not for meaning but for presence.
Thank you to Ann Marie and MOWA for the invitation and trust. And thank you to the participants—some new friends, some old students—for showing up and making lines that listened before they spoke.
I have been watching a lot of sci-fiction lately. Like so many others my age or younger, the weight of global warming sits on my shoulders constantly. I imagined the final trek through a wormhole as someone sees their new solar system for the first time. I enjoy the bright colors and such but wish I conveyed a more bittersweet emotion.
A mason jar filled with glowing fireflies casts a warm, bright light. The playful arrangement of the fireflies creates a whimsical and enchanting effect.
this drawing influence by the 1994 movie Twenty-five years later, it is widely considered one of the best documentaries ever made.The three-hour film, which follows two black teenagers in their wearied quest to make it to the NBA.
