This is a simple watercolor and pen drawing of a witch hazel tree in winter bloom with an owl perched on top. I love the witch hazel shrub and am thinking of creating a picture book showcasing the plant throughout the seasons.
at some point, information becomes knowledge. at some point, knowledge becomes wisdom. at some point, wisdom become awareness. and so on and so forth. (my original illustration)
Day by day dear Lord, of thee these three things I pray: to see You more clearly, to love You more dearly, to follow You more nearly. Day by day. This is a hymn I hold dear to my heart, and sometimes I find myself unknowly humming to the tune as I go about my day! If you know this hymn, sing it! //There are 6 Sundays leading up to Good Friday. In observation of Lent, I will be posting 6 works inspired by the theme. This is for the 3rd Sunday of Lent.
The day slowly gos to a end while seeing the lovely pink sky and the seagull.
Jean is my clan leader on the dragon petsim Flight Rising, in-game she is a nature elemental female pearlcatcher. Her in-game profile is here https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/4025429 Lore outline: Originally born in the nature elemental lands she found herself enchanted by the stars above the canopy, and journeyed to the light territories in search of knowledge. But these dragons had little in the way of passion besides snobbery and a burning desire for truth. In her love of the night sky and shunning of the sun she did not fit here, and was bullied for it. One particularly bad episode altered the golden runes that her scales bore, covered her with patches of glowing gold - a permanent mark of the burning sun. But she did not only come to harm in the light flight, for it was here that she came across a clan of misfits just like her, formed by a guardian dragon who wanted to protect all those who were different. And then she, along with the clan, moved to the territory of the arcane flight - the home of curiosity, and those that loved the stars. They have been there ever since. Art method: I started with graphite and ink on white A4 paper, scanned it into the computer and set to multiply then used photoshop to add colour and further shading + a simple gradient for a background on the layers beneath.
I take a lot of Genesis as an allegory for birth and maturation, both individually and collectively. The Garden of Eden could easily be interpreted as the womb, and we are all cast out of it at some point. Genesis 2:24 says "This is why a man leaves his father and mother and bonds with his wife, and they become one flesh." Though people use this passage to refer to the tradition of marriage, I think that it speaks to something much, much deeper than that. Literally, when two people copulate, they create a child that is of one flesh. They do not "become one flesh" because they engage in a ritual institution and are now "to be viewed as comprising a single identity," but they literally become one flesh because their genetic compositions are joined into a new being (Mark 10:8 and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two but one flesh. 9 What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate.”). That being said, I read somewhere once that babies born in every part of the world make phonetic sounds from pretty much every language in the world. It is only after a period of time that they start to key in on certain sounds that the people around them are making, and it is only after that that children key in enough to start developing more advanced language skills (typically). However, in this original state, there is a freedom. There are no assumptions. There is an innocence in that state. There is a lack of judgement. There comes a point at which babies/young children begin to mimic and to incorporate what they are experiencing from the creatures around them into themselves. To small creatures with an undeveloped sense of self or reality, the caregivers around them may as well be gods, at least from their perspective. They will learn from these gods around them and will begin to embody their cultural beliefs, their language, their idiosyncrasies, and their perceptions, often on a deeply unconscious level. Adults contribute to that quite thoroughly and somewhat consciously. (Genesis 1:26 Then God said, “Let Us make mankind in Our image, according to Our likeness..") (Genesis 11:7 7 Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech.) In our own way as individuals, we are each a Tower of Babel, and at some point, for each of us, that Tower fell. Barriers to communication of so many kinds were created for and/or by us. Perhaps we still spend time constructing new barriers and thinking up new ways to distance ourselves from the rest of our kind. I chose to use the phrase "materialism" to express how children engender these attributes of caregivers and others alike. However, this can easily be exchanged for a phrase like "socialism," or "corporate capitalism," or nearly any other thing that you can probably think of. Children are like sponges. They soak up even more than we realize. Most widespread religions in the world have some form of renunciation belief or ritual wherein an individual must 'cast off' the old self and put on the new. This is because, regardless of where or when a child is born in the world, the perspectives of the people around them raising them will likely leave much to be desired. It is necessary for beings to continue to learn, and this often entails a serious consideration of what was instilled into them at an earlier time. It is quintessential that we question and evaluate these things since the state of the world will have changed by the time that we reach maturation. The ideas that people gave us may apply to a world that is already different. The story of the Tower of Babel may refer to a state that earlier humans lived in, perhaps on a shared continent, in which the manners in which they communicated were similar. Then, at some point, perhaps these same peoples went off on their travels and developed new languages. In a funny way, we seem to do that as individuals. At some point, we strike out on our own, even if only a little. Though we may differ on surface level behaviors and in the symbols that we use to describe the human experience, human beings are more or less fundamentally the same. We let our differences create so, so, so many barriers between ourselves and other beings. Just think of all of the harm that things like xenophobia, racism, intolerance, and a lack of an ability to communicate verbally with one another have done to our species. Even beyond that, just think of how easily we dismiss the inner lives and inner experiences of creatures different than ourselves simply because they do not communicate verbally with us in our preferred tongue. Research is overwhelmingly in support of other beings communicating with others of their kind, whether we as individuals acknowledge it or not.. Some of us are just really into denial about it. We could achieve remarkably wonderful things, if only we would learn to recognize the similarities of our experiences. (Matthew 19:6 So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”)
We take things in and digest them before regurgitating them or expelling them again through our being. This is true of many aspects of our reality, not just of caloric intake. We take things in through the senses, through the person. We digest with our intellect and with our perception. Then we are able to share that back out through the senses, through our behaviours, and through our being. Food builds our body even as our experiences build our character. The real mark of a mature human being is developing deeper levels of discretion and recognizing more intimate forms of subtlety. Not everyone likes grapes, but to condemn grapes as evil is not prosperous to our species. Some like cherries, but not all enjoy their flavour. Grapes and cherries are still nutritious even though some have allergies to them. And not all cherries and grapes are ripe and nutritious at all times in all places. We must carry this knowledge into the development of our judgement. If it is important and worth while to discuss food and material nutrition, then it is much more essential that we evolve a greater sense of discretion for experience and for the holistic palette of our physical, emotional, intellectual, social, and spiritual tongues. We do that through consumption and digestion. But be aware that a human being can not live on grapes and cherries alone. We should also do our best to not condemn the taste buds or stomachs of ourselves or others. Namaste.
Backstory of the Miss Professor: In the vast expanse of the Realspace timeline, a lone ship found itself stranded and derelict, adrift in the cold emptiness of space. It was a desolate sight, a haunting reminder of the perils that lurked beyond the safety of civilization. But fate had a different plan in store for this forsaken vessel. It was a group of intrepid human ships, their crew members seasoned salvagers, who stumbled upon this forgotten craft. Their eyes widened with a mix of curiosity and trepidation as they cautiously approached the dormant ship. What secrets lay hidden within its silent walls? What tales of adventure and tragedy were etched into its very core? As she slowly regained consciousness, her senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of being cradled in the warm embrace of human hands. Her mind, still clouded by the remnants of sleep, struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Gradually, her thoughts began to coalesce, and she found herself able to articulate the extraordinary tale that had brought her to this moment. In a voice tinged with both weariness and urgency, she revealed that her kind had embarked on a perilous mission to the far reaches of the Andromeda galaxy. Their escort fleet, a formidable force in its own right, had been suddenly and ruthlessly assaulted by an unknown armada. The chaos that ensued was unimaginable, as her comrades fought valiantly to defend their ships against the relentless onslaught. In a desperate bid for survival, her vessel had executed an emergency jump, its hull ravaged by the relentless barrage of enemy fire. Tragically, she was the sole survivor of this daring maneuver, her colleagues succumbing to the perils of interstellar travel. The ship's warp drive propelled her through the vast expanse of the Milky Way, hurtling towards an uncertain fate. Yet, as fate would have it, the ship's generator, pushed to its limits, eventually succumbed to the strain and erupted in a cataclysmic explosion. As the dust settled and she emerged from the wreckage, she found herself confronted with a new reality. It was then that she revealed her true identity as a scientist, her purpose in venturing into the unknown depths of space becoming clear. Upon hearing news of the human's repeated encounters with the enigmatic Alien Union, she felt an overwhelming sense of duty and compassion. Driven by a desire to aid the lost human colony in their struggle for survival and technological advancement, she willingly offered her expertise. Knowing that her own kin were also locked in a bitter conflict with the Alien Union who are enemies to even the archfoes between the United Fleet and the Katuri Empire, she recognized the opportunity to forge an alliance. Drawing upon her Takanii heritage and the vast reservoir of knowledge she possessed, she became the linchpin of the Shingenii Imperial Navy. It was her contributions that formed the very backbone of their military might, enabling them to stand firm against the relentless onslaught of their common enemy. And so, as she lay there, her body still weak from the trials she had endured, she resolved to dedicate herself to the cause. With unwavering determination, she would guide these lost humans colony towards a brighter future, one where they could not only survive but thrive in the face of adversity. Even when the human's home planet Earth was no more following the destruction brought by the vengeful acts of the Katuri Empire against the corrupted council of the United Fleet, the peoples of the Shingenii shall continue their gaze toward tomorrow.
Illustrated with Ink and Ink-Pens on Paper. Urh.-Nr:1811955 Copyright by Carolina Matthes
Colorful drawing of a scene of Studio Ghibli's film "Howl's Moving Castle", Sophie and Howl's kissing Reference: screenshot of the movie scene Techniques: brush pens on regular paper
Take the Rymans, for instance. There is Robert Ryman (1930 – 2019), the patriarch whose paintings are indisputable icons of the modernist canon. Then there are his wives and children. Ethan Ryman (b. 1964) is the oldest of Robert’s three artist children. Though his mother was not an artist, Lucy Lippard (b. 1937) was still a scrappy and eloquent art critic, a feminist, a social activist, and an environmentalist. Ethan’s meticulously considered and crafted artworks might be characterized as somewhere between photography and sculpture, the abstract and the (f)actual. Though Lippard and Ryman divorced just six years after their 1961 marriage, their son is arguably the closest to his father’s methodologies if not his medium, and was certainly the last to become a visual artist. Robert Ryman went on to marry fellow artist Merrill Wagner (b. 1935) in 1969 and they had two sons. Though Wagner is more quietly acknowledged than Ryman, her boundless practice includes sculpture, painting, drawing, installation, and more. With an emphasis on materiality, her sites are indoors and out, her styles alternating. Will Ryman (b. 1969) is the elder son of Robert and Merrill. He started out as an actor and playwright though he too eventually assumed a visual art practice to become a sculptor. He is best known for his large-scale public artworks and theatrical installations that focus on the figurative and psychological, at times absurdist, narratives. Cordy Ryman (b. 1971) is the youngest, and the only one of the three who knew that he was going to be a visual artist early on. His work is abstract, the sophistication understated, and his output is prolific. With his mother’s DIY flair, his homely materials seem sourced from the overflow of construction projects, lumberyards, and Home Depot. Ethan Ryman said that, when he was young, he didn’t want to be a visual artist. Instead, he pursued music and acting, producing records for Wu-Tang Clan, among others, getting “my ears blown out.” But he was always surrounded by artists—Sol LeWitt, Carl Andre, Jan Dibbetts, William Anastasi, and countless others at his mother’s place on Prince Street in SoHo and at the Rymans’s 1847 Greek Revival brownstone on 16th Street in Manhattan, where everyone was often seated around the family dinner table. He would spend part of most weekends in the highly stimulating chaos that reigned there—birds, dogs, plants, toys, art, people, everywhere. “While nowhere near as overwhelming, I was also constantly exposed to artists, writers and other creative folks at my Mom’s place.” “While nowhere near as overwhelming, I was also constantly exposed to artists, writers and other creative folks at my Mom’s place.” Ethan Ryman Lippard was “a powerhouse.” She took Ethan on her lecture tours, readings, conferences, galleries, studios, wherever she had to go. And while that almost always breeds rebellion, at some point, he began noticing all the art around them—both what it looked like and how it was made. He began to take photographs of buildings and realized that “abstract color fields were all around us.” He also began to notice his father and Wagner’s work more carefully—how sensitively it was executed and how reactive it was to its surroundings. “Once you’re interested, you notice. When I asked my dad questions, I would most likely get a one-word response. I had to go to his lectures for answers where he broke down modern art for me. After listening to him, it seemed to me we should all be painting, otherwise what were we doing with our lives?” Will Ryman, on the other hand, said that all his work has a narrative component. His background is in theatre and his interests have always been film and plays, his narratives about New York City and American culture and history. “It’s a city I love,” he said. “I try to observe culture in a bare-bones way and I’ve always been interested in telling stories—we’re the only species that tells stories to each other. It comes from an intuitive, cathartic place in me. I want to stay away from preconceived notions, although that’s not completely possible. I have no plan except to do something honest, with a little bit of a political bent and humor but I’m not an activist. I’m interested in exploring a culture and its flaws as an interaction between human beings.” His interests and his work are very different from his last name. There is no connection to minimalism. He didn’t go to art school, drawn instead to theatre workshops and theatre troupes. “I didn’t become involved with the visual arts until my mid-thirties. It’s easy to say what I make is a reaction, but I dismiss that. And I also wouldn’t say it’s rebellious after twenty years.” Of his family, he said, “we’re a normal family, a close family, with all the dynamics and complications that go along with that. And while everyone who came to 16th Street were artists, they were also just family friends. I have no other measure for how a family interacts. It was just the way it was.” Cordy Ryman was the only one of the three who went to art school, earning a BFA from the School of Visual Arts, but it was reportedly awkward for him, since all his teachers knew his parents. “When I started making abstract paintings, it was kind of push and pull but it became more interesting to me than my earlier figurative or narrative work. That’s when I started to know where I came from. I realized that I had a visual memory, and the language was there, a language I didn’t know I knew. We all had different ways of working; our processes are very different and it’s hard to compare us. Ethan and I use a similar inherited language but he thinks about what he does more. I work very fast, the ideas come from the process itself. I work in two or three modes simultaneously and bounce around.” At home, they were around Wagner’s work since her studio was there. “Will and I were always in her studio, helping her, going to her installation sites with her, adjusting her boulders or whatever the project was she was working on. That was special and made a deep impression, but I didn’t realize it then.” All five Rymans have in common an acute consciousness of space and of place as an integral component of their work. For the brothers, part of that consciousness might stem from their parents, but also from their attachment to their family home, which was a crucible of sorts for them, where everyone was an artist. To Cordy, the house was a “living, breathing thing, and the art in it felt alive, growing, and occupying any space that was available. It was the structure of our world. When I’m making work, it doesn’t need to be the most beautiful thing ever, but it needs to have its own life, its own space, like the art we grew up with.” And the next generation of Rymans, also all sons—what about them? Will said his son is still too young to know. Cordy thought the same about his two younger children; his oldest is in the art world, but not as an artist—so far. Ethan perhaps summed it up best: my two sons are artists; they just don’t know it yet.
The Truth, Life, and Way Medium: Acrylic paint on canvas Size: 10 “x 20” Year: 2021-2022 This illustration is final illustration, of nine, of a mural about the life of Christ. In this painting I attempt to communicate to the viewer who Jesus is to the Christian. He is the truth; Jesus is the word of God that put-on Flesh. Jesuses’ life fulfills all prophecies that were made about God’s Deliver. Though, Jesus was human, He was also totally Devine. God put on flesh with out the nature of sin, by being born through virgin conception. Since the fall of humankind at the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, which took place in the garden of Eden. The sin nature is past down through the generations of humankind through the male. Jesus on our behave, taught humanity the requirements needed to reunite with God, and how to live life in a new and better way. The savior then traded places with a criminal to hang on a cross. The guiltless, paying the penalty of the guilty. For a sinner cannot offer an acceptable payment to a holy God to set them free from facing the wrath of God’s upon their sin. They can only be for given for their sins by coming to God through the savior He has provider for them The resurrection After God had poured out his wrath upon the savior’s body, Jesus was dead and buried in a tomb for three days. God raised him back to life, showing that the sacrifice was excepted. Jesus is the first fruit, so that whoever places their faith in Christ for the forgiveness of their sins, they to shall raise from the dead unto enteral life. Jesus is the life As believer walk in their new relationship with God, they will face many challenging times. For the Devil and his coworkers are unhappy with your newfound relationship with God. They will wage war with you, but be of good cheerer, Jesus has overcome them for us. Jesus promise that He will never leave us or forsake us. He will be with us to the end of the age. I painted Jesus and the believers with their back to the empty tomb. This is to emphasize the price that was paid to set us free from the chains of the power of sin. Jesus standing alongside the believer with the direction finger, as He guides Him along the way he should go. What I was trying to capture. In read the account of the first people going to the tomb where Jesus was buried, it describes the woman getting there before the sun came up. I was trying to capture that time of day in my illustration. Every dawning of a new day is a change follow Christ, better than we did yesterday. Written by Stephen J. Vattimo 11/20/2022
Done 2022. This is my latest artwork so far as i have 2 color pencil ARTS in the making. with lead pencil on 9x12 bristol original up for sale $45+s/h . if interested leave a comment or jungmeister4@yahoo.com. ALSO THERE IS STORY TO THIS DEVIL'S TREE AND IT IS REAL STORY. DO NOT SCARED AS YOU READING YOU WILL BE OK. This is one sinister looking tree, and according to the locals, who told us of its legends, everyone in the vicinity of Bernards Township seems to have a story about it. They say that at one time a farmer killed his entire family, then went to the tree to hang himself. According to some, numerous suicides and murders occurred around the evil arbor. Supposedly anyone who tries to cut down the tree comes to an untimely end, as it is now cursed. It is said that the souls of those killed at the spot give the tree an unnatural warmth, and even in the dead of winter no snow will fall around it. When Weird NJ visited the Devil’s Tree we noticed evidence that many attempts had been made over the years to fell the unholy oak, but all have failed. The tree stands all alone in the middle of a large field off Mountain Road. Its trunk has been severely scared by axes and chain saws, some wounds appearing to be quite old. Why no one has yet been successful in toppling the timber we cannot say for sure. Nor do we know what has become of those who have tried. One Weird NJ reader described the Devil’s Tree to us this way: There’s a big field and right near the road is the tree. It’s the only thing in the field. Supposedly it’s a portal to hell and a sentinel guards it. He drives an old black Ford or pick-up truck and will chase you down the road until a certain point. You will see headlights one second, and the next nothing – the car is just gone. Another local told us that the inherent unholiness of the Devil’s Tree is the result of the evil that men do, and should not to be blamed on the Devil. Devil’s Tree is a KKK Hangout There is a very evil truth to the mythology of the Devil’s Tree. At one time, Bernards Township was one of the central headquarters of the KKK in New Jersey – they held many demonstrations in our town and held many meetings throughout the hills. As per KKK policy, often they would lynch local African-Americans to set an example, not only to other African-Americans, but also as an example of their principles and resolve. The Devil’s Tree was more secluded in those times before the developments spread across the rural countryside like a blight. It stood in a very isolated area of woods and fields, far from the prying eyes of the police. The evil energy around the tree comes from the souls of dead men and women who were killed by this vile organization. If you look at the tree you can see the left most branch extends almost parallel to the ground. This was the hanging branch. Pretty freaky and true stuff. To freak ourselves out, sometimes my friends and I would drive down the road at night telling ghost stories. When the moon is a full red harvest moon, and the wind is blowing just right, it looks like there might be bodies hanging from the branch, slowly swaying in the breeze.” –Rob S. One of our readers reported that at times there have been bodies seen hanging from that branch, though they turned out to be merely uniformed dummies of rival high school football players hung in effigy by the local home team. The Devil’s Tree Will Break You At the time of our arrival to the Devil’s Tree, there was a six foot noose hanging from the big branch, which extends out of one side. We noticed what looked like claw marks from a person or very large animal. To get a better view, myself and a friend climbed the tree to see if any unique marks were further up. After we climbed up, we were sitting on the branch trying to remove the noose. As we sat on the branch, we began to hear noises coming from inside the tree. When these noises grew even louder, a big bang sounded and a burst of energy came from the tree sending myself and my friend flying into the air. When I crashed to the ground, I landed on my ankle, breaking it in 2 places. –Steve K. The Devil’s Tree and Heat Rock Right next to the Devil’s Tree, there is a rock. It is very warm. Some people call it Heat Rock. People say it is the gate to hell. –Elmo M. No Snow at the Devil’s Tree We went to the Devil’s Tree in December when the ground was snow-covered. However, an eight by twelve foot circle of ground around the tree was totally bone dry. Later, when we were driving home, one of our friends thought he was cool because he took a piece of bark off of the tree and had it on him in the car. We pulled the car over, yelled at him, and made him throw it out the window! –Damian The Mark of the Devil My friends and I went up to the Devil’s Tree one night and got out of the car and touched the it. Afterward we went to Applebee’s to get something to eat and everyone that was sitting at the table suddenly had all of our hands turn black! We don’t know why, but it took us two and a half hours to get the blackness off of our hands! –Melissa C. The Children of the Tree We have all heard the story of not messing with Devil’s Tree, so we were smart and didn’t mock the tree. We went right next to the tree, and put our ears next to the bark. We heard sounds of screaming and children playing. –Matt W. A Shocking Experience I went up to the Devil’s Tree this past mischief night with two of my friends (both of whom were girls). I just wanted to scare them. I told them all the stories and tall tales that went along with it. I parked the car and proceeded to get out and walk to the tree. I got within arms distance and reached out and touched it as I had many times before… it’s kind of like a ritual I have. When I placed my hand on the tree, a single strike of lightning illuminated the sky. I don’t know what caused it to happen, but when I touched the tree, the lightning struck, and when I took my hand off, the lightning disappeared. It could’ve been coincidence, or could have been paranormal proof of the legend’s truth. Either way I thought it was cool and it scares the hell out of me now. –Brian D. Don’t Pee on the Devil’s Tree! I am reminded of an incident which occurred about 8 years back, when I was in high school, concerning the Devil’s Tree. We had all heard the legend of this infamous spot and there was much talk of it around my school. One night, my friends and I decided to pay it a visit and see for ourselves how true the legends were. We headed out and came upon the tree. We all began to have very bad feelings and decided to scrap our idea of actually getting out of the car and approaching the scene. We turned around and left without incident. About a week or so later, the talk of the tree began to escalate and one of the kids in the popular crowd began saying that it was all a bunch of bullshit. A few days later, his mind would be changed forever. This guy and a carload of other rowdy types decided to go up to see the tree that weekend. On Friday night, they began their journey up the mountain to see what it was all about. A friend of mine was in that car, and his story is as follows. Apparently, after cruising back and forth several times, the kids were getting bad vibes and wanted to leave. The kid who was driving, and who was the one proclaiming in school that the story was bullshit became angry at the “wimps” for having bad feelings. He stated to his friends that he was going to prove once and for all that the story was nothing and that he wasn’t fazed by it. He pulled his car over on the side of the road, right before the bend and got out. Marching up to the tree, he began yelling challenges to the so-called spirits. Nothing happened, so to further prove his fearlessness, he pulled down his pants and urinated all over the base of the tree. Still, nothing happened. He muttered an “I told you so” and got back into the car. After starting the car, he began to drive towards the bend in the road slowly. Suddenly, without warning, the gas pedal of the car became floored and the car sped up all by itself. Surprised at what was happening, the guy was unable to control the car and it skidded out and collided into a tree. The kids in the car sustained minor injuries but the car was totaled. I showed the stories of the Devil’s Tree featured in your magazines to my sister. As I read the tales aloud she became very pale when I got the part about the headlights which follow you then go out suddenly. I asked her what was wrong and she replied, “Oh my God – I went up there about a year ago and got chased out by the same black pick-up truck. It was severely tailgating me and when we got a short distance away, the lights were just suddenly gone.” She and I have never gone back since then. I am open for commission using color pencil or lead pencil for original artwork of subject matters such as Sci-fi, Fantasy, Horror, Comics, Fanart, NSFW, Surreal art, Whimsical art, Abstract art, and Tattoo designs. Sizes range from 8.5x11, 9x12, 11x14, 11x17. The Commission rate starts from $20 and up. if interested leave a comment or jungmeister4@yahoo.com MY CALENDAR FOR SALE: https://www.artwanted.com/artist.cfm?ArtID=115637&Tab=Calendar