art
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Metamorphosis by Asher Jay
Metamorphosis: – an original literary work by ©Asher Jay 2013 I have been the wild horse that could not be tamed, the unpredictable storm, the loose cannon, the changing wind, the winding ocean current the meandering river, the vagrant cloud and I have always found the other to be a shackle This maybe why I have never been the sails of a sturdy oak ship never the salt by the pepper shaker the oars to a hand carved canoe, the ornate brass legs to a rosewood table nor the buttons of a bespoke shirt something in you has left me feeling more button than horse, more salt than storm more…
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My Chronic Condition by Asher Jay
This original artwork was created using scans of napkins that were stained with paint from cleaning brushes that were used to render other canvases in progress. To me it represents both process and the pulse of the remainder from an equation, much like love. So I wound up writing a little poem about the feeling that fueled the piece: My Chronic Condition: Asher Jay Cannot function when you are near You’re in all I do and say, it’s clear I am wrapped around your little finger, Thoughts of you do make me linger. Every word you utter a cerebral kiss Your eyes spin my world off axis When you smile…
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Call the Bluff, Know your Tell: Presidential Elections 2012 by Asher Jay
It’s odd sometimes who chooses to run As a presidential candidate, just for fun With no compassion, logic or common sense A grasp of past, future or present tense Hoping to secure swing vote oscillations Using dated slogans, false accusations Fluffy promises & fist pumps to endorse lies Ignorance promotes 1% biased money ties Women’s rights set back to days of yore Career choice between witch and whore Romney you know not what is right You don’t have collective welfare in sight To you climate change is a fat myth FEMA was about to receive the scythe You have left the American people with no choice All your campaign statements,…
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TENDER MOUNTAIN by Kris Tate & Kristy Lynn
Kris Tate creates vibrant, psychedelic, geometric illustrations based on subject matter ranging from indie culture figures to forest animals. Kristy Lynn creates luscious paintings and delicate drawings inspired by nature and dreams. The two artists connected via the artist site Society6, and after becoming friends and supporters of one another’s work, Tate asked Lynn if she would like to collaborate on a piece, to which the answer was naturally, yes. Unsurprisingly, the artists decided to make a piece based on a wild creature from nature. The only question was: what member of the animal kingdom? After much discussion they decided on a wolf motif, and worked together to join their…
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Mr Brainwash, Tolstoy and Salvador Dali Mashup
The artist of the future will understand that to compose a fairy-tale, a little song which will touch, a lullaby or a riddle which will entertain, a jest which will amuse, or to draw a sketch which will delight dozens of generations or millions of children and adults, is incomparably more important and more fruitful than to compose a novel or a symphony, or paint a picture which will divert some members of the wealthy classes for a short time, and then be for ever forgotten. The region of this art of the simple feelings accessible to all is enormous, and it is as yet almost untouched. Tolstoy “What is…
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Milk
Forgetting the milk was a mistake. Do the shopping bags feel lighter? Are they noticeably sans milk? Don’t be ridiculous, they’re shopping bags. They feel as heavy as all shopping. It will be fine. How can it not be? The sun has that brilliant winter-weekend-morning touch about it; cold, blinding and strong enough to make you smile at the frost particles in the tarmac. The gloves don’t really work. The weave is too loose and they let the chill of the season through, and at the same time they restrict finger movements; making it all but impossible to pick the right key out of all the others on the chain…
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Hisami Tanaka at waitingroom with Mark M. Whelan
Hisami Tanaka’s recent solo exhibition at waitingroom in Tokyo presented his latest works, reflecting his graphic design background and an approach to abstract painting unique to the artist. The style in which the pieces were installed in the gallery space itself further emphasized the artist’s dynamic inner relationship between painter and designer. from waitingroom: Hisami Tanaka was born in Ibaraki in 1976 and graduated from Tama Art University, majoring in Design. Recent exhibitions include “windows and the stories” (2011, waitingroom, Tokyo) and “Tokyo Wonder Wall” (2010, Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo, Tokyo). In previous years, Tanaka was focusing on the “existence and non-existence of the quality and power” for different…
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Interview with Stephen Tompkins by Samuel Dodson
Every time I look at Stephen’s work, I find something different. All objects merge and have the ability to take on new shapes, new meanings. Almost like trying to pin down a definitive image from a dream, the images envelop you, and bring you into their fold as you search further and further into them. They stretch boundaries, inspire new thought and make you question existing notions. It is a pleasure to bring you the following interview with the man behind such “addictively absorbing” (Robin Clark) artwork; Stephen Tompkins. Is art your first love or do you have another passion? My own work is my first passion. I studied years…
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Interview with Slaven Gabric by Mark M. Whelan
“So long as men die, liberty will never perish” – Charlie Chaplin Every single thing is an homage to everything in the world; even things that haven’t happened yet. In all the intricacy’s of our humanity, there is one thing which binds us together; our mortality. Now, this is not to get all gloomy on the subject. At the same time, it’s not to say that death is actually really groovy and fun-filled. Rather, this is to celebrate the unexpected, the poetic and the absurd creations found in the graveyards where we pay our own homage to friends and loved ones past. The meaning of life and death can appear…
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Hunger by Samuel Dodson
For a long time he stood with the lights out, looking through the blinds at the gravel lot and the incessant lights of the trucks going by on the highway. He counted thirty-seven of the 86,400 seconds of the day, tried to time each of his thoughts in time with his heartbeat. His mind fell over itself, impossible rings of colour almost blinded him and he paused. He could see a green dress lifted by the wind on the streets of Harlem as infinite laughter spilled down the walls, running along sidewalks and concrete playgrounds. He set his glass of water down at his feet. The water was dead. Bubbles…