Images And Literature

Today I've seen little children play around the feet of gossiping nannies.
Dogs walking the wrong way around lampposts in non-ending sniffs, mind caught up in reading their weemails, companion humans laughing (or swearing) as they realise they need to rescue the leash.
An old couple holding each other up as they shuffled through, looking myopically around to see how things had changed with the seasons.
A young couple giggling, hand in hand, whispering of nighttime promises.
A park warden, his hands behind his back, clasped, whistling quietly and eyes alert for any errant sweetie wrapper, or dead flower in the beds.
I've been here since before the park.
I've been here when farmers tilled the field i stood next to.
My life was filled with the chatter of a thousand birds and the squeaks of tiny animals.
I've watched orange and gold sunrises, deep ermine sunsets.
My heart has soared with the breath of a hundred thousand winds.
My name is Willow and i am alive.



I painted the park, then wrote the story around it

What a beautiful painting and story, Abbie!
This is my latest story, I thought of the story after I painted it. Edit: no actually while I was painting it.
While I painted it, I thought of the story, but after painting it I researched so I don't say something wrong about seahorses and wrote it down.

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/happy-day-at-the-aquarium-lucia-waterson.html

Happy day at the aquarium is a colorful watercolor painting with a rich variety of beautiful fish.

They are all happy because seahorses gave birth to many little ones. They just can't believe that it was the male who actually gave birth to them. But this is what happens in nature: the female deposits her eggs into the male body, I'm not sure where but I won't go into details here. And then seahorse daddy gives birth to hundreds of them, it's not easy and for the effort he even changes color!

At this special happy event all fish are happy, here you can see many: on the left we have clown fish, sawfish, bubble Eye fish. At the top a fun elephant fish, moon fish, stingray and the tale of a blue whale. On the floor you can walk on top of cute turtles and seastars, octopus and Betty fish. And finally we have what everyone usually asks for, the scary shark, today he is very curious as well.
I hope I didn't forget any because they found out that fish have emotions!

All of mine has a story, I can't point to any one specific thing. I think it allows people to connect to an image better.

OK here is a random sample



My grandmother's old kitchen. She baked pies, she baked cookies, and cake. Now and then things were healthy, but that's not her job, her job was to fill me with sweets... But then sadly she died.

And now its my kitchen, and you'll note its spotless. Because she haunts me every day in this kitchen, where she slaved over a hot stove and died because of it. Every day, all I see and hear is her pointing to things I need to clean up.

What's worse is, when I bake cookies, I get a live critique of everything I'm doing wrong. You need more butter, more butter.... ooooo more butter. It has enough butter, its all butter now. Just one big pool of butter with very little actual dough.

Its not like I can just kick her out, I have no way of doing that. It wouldn't be nice, after all she is just trying to help.


None of that is true. I had no story in mind when I shot it, but wanted it to connect to someone. Haven't made a sale on it despite people liking the kitchen. At times I might force a story into a picture, but I usually make it after.

The problem with making the story first is - it has to fit within the narrative you created. And I may not have the graphics for that. I may create a framework like on this one:


Out living your relatives is hardly any fun, to live past the age where your owner dies, and all the young ones that grew up with you in the litter, all pass on. All of them living in that big farm somewhere. Now we just enjoy our retirement the best we can. For example, un-knitting a sweater to make into a more useful ball of yarn, for the grand-kittens.

I wanted to do something with those creepy little cats, they looked like old naked people to me, so I created a thing about that. Then made up the story about it. Since i'm a visual thinker I can imagine myself in that location and often create things. And sometimes not at all.


----Mike Savad

Fellow artist, Philip Tripi, and I began a story time project about a year ago. We provided each other with short stories and the challenge to produce accompanying art. This was difficult for me and it often took several attempts to produce a painting or digital piece that matched Philip's thoughts. It gave me a much stronger appreciation for those artists who are illustrators.

This is one of our projects: Blue Lips Orange Sand. The story Philip provided me is at the bottom of the frame.



The story (Philip Tripi): Orange sand, purple sun, pillars standing motioning all undone, lips whisper blue, a motion of white, hypnotized, red-yellow sight. three sets of blue lips look down upon the three pillars which rest upon the orange sand.

I've been shooting weddings since 1986 and 95% of them are what I call cookie cutter weddings. Meaning, the next one is similar to the one before and the one that will take place after. The people and venue are pretty much different but everything else is just about the same. There is a bride and groom, white dress / dark colored tuxedo. The bride, her wedding party getting makeup, hair done, getting her dress on. The groom and his wedding party, normally drinking a few beers, joking around, he is normally a little nervous. Some pictures before the ceremony, during the ceremony and then after. There are toasts, dancing, food and cake. Cookie cutter.

About 9 years ago I got contacted by a future bride and I booked her wedding. That wedding fell within the 5% different, a little unique. The bride and groom dressed in vintage 1940's clothing. He was wearing a 1940's era pilot's uniform. The small number of quests in attendance also dressed in 1940's garb. But the thing that really made the wedding stand out was the venue. It took place on the runway of a private airport in front of a visiting World War 2 B17 bomber, one of the few that still is able to fly. I took advantage of the bomber being there and used it as a prop for a lot of pictures. With permission from the bride, I used one of those images for my Love collection gallery on FFA.

Sometimes what's happening behind the scenes is just as good as the image created…

Saturday night, my husband and I were standing on the banks of the Platte River with a group of people watching the Sandhill Cranes come in to roost for the night. The moon was just a sliver from being full, but the cloud cover was so heavy that it was pitch black most of the night.

I heard splashing in the water not far from where we were standing, but I didn’t think much about it since I was focused on the sky as the Sandhill Cranes flew overhead. The cranes were making quite a racket!

Suddenly, out of the blue, my husband yells, “HOLY SHIT!”

I cringed, not knowing anyone in our group; I sure hoped the cranes had drowned that out. We had been given a talk about no sudden movements and to stay low and quiet so we didn’t startle the flock when we first arrived for the evening. And now my husband is yelling obscenities at the top of his lungs!

I looked over at Paul and could barely make out a large black blob about 3 feet from him, but it was too dark for me to identify.

It was a beaver!

Paul told me later that when the curse words rolled, that beaver was sitting on his foot!

Beavers are notorious for having poor eyesight. I imagine we were all rather tree-like in our stillness and, I’m sure, just as black to him in the darkness as he was to us. Paul said he stared at him for what seemed like forever before the beaver slipped back into the water and swam off.

Always the overactive imagination, I had visions of the beaver gnawing off his leg and swimming off with it to build a new dam. LOL

Oh wow these are exactly what i wanted!!! How brilliant!!! My uncle is an author, writing about aircraft, huge factual tomes with beautiful graphics. Your image reminded me of him, Ed.

Thank you so much everyone. Fabulous!!!

I've only made one thing with a poem. It has yet to sell and i'm not sure who would buy it or why, but it was a weird and neat picture so it needed a weird poem, because christmas is about poems.




Original poem by Mike Savad

I remember, One December, A terrible event that happened one night;
I can remember it like it was yesterday, and I knew it wasn't right.
Recalling the sounds of a truck, and an opening door.
The unusual giggles, and something sliding on the floor.
I tip-toed downstairs, and what did i see?
Santa and his henchmen, knocking over my tree.
With a grunt and a shove, they took my gifts;
He looked back in the house and said, this one was mine, take this instead.
I was curious and wondered what it could be, I opened the box and what did I see?

It was filled with old socks! What a gyp!
Maybe I should fill them with rocks, and use them on him like a whip.

So now every year I hope he comes back, So I can trap him in very large sack;
Beat him until he's black and blue, and tell him, never steal my gifts and F*** You.



This one too is waiting for a buyer. Guess its too dark.


After the radiation spread through the town, it was discovered that no one could bear children anymore. Everyone was heartbroken by this news. Then one day an inventor by the name of Michael Thadeus Savad, created a mechanical doll.

He built these dolls as a surrogate, to let people have a child again, though be it a mechanical one. Everyone bought one, and were very happy. That is, until the war broke out. It seems that when these dolls were designed, they were created to have a conscience, so they can love their parents. But at the same time, they were also designed for war (because aged parents can't fight), and so, these dolls were recruited to fight the war, and win any way they could. And they won, but at great cost. Being that the doll factory was destroyed, there were no spare parts left. Leaving the parents to pick up the pieces and try to repair their children themselves.


----Mike Savad

it was twilight on the back road
and there was that moon
so beautiful...
and so far away
i could feel my ancestors all around me
as i walked away
i heard voices calling to me
"have Faith," they said
"in what?" i asked
no one answered

Written after the image

Late Bus

I saw you waiting for that bus
the one that is always late
in between a dream

you looked so patient
as you let the wind caress your hair
I thought I heard some tires moan
or maybe the breeze through the trees

I hope your safe in the night
on that bench alone
hoping your bus arrives soon
under an old street lamp like moon

Here is another story plus painting from my story time project with fellow artist, Philip Tripi:

Giraffes in the Village - Story provided by Philip Tripi:

Once upon a day when the the sun was shining in May, there was a man named Pickled Pete. Pickled Pete was the friend everyone spoke of in the little town of Foo Ferry. All enjoyed his wonderful stories about the magic of little giraffes.

 

In July of 2021, I was awarded a Manitoba Arts Council grant to create my proposed video animation Art of Centricity: COVID 19.

I call on my German heritage in this instance. The word Götterdämmerung, or Twilight of the Gods, is the German translation of Norse mythology of a prophecy of collapse and subsequent renewal of the world.

It is also a part 4 in Richard Wagner's opera Der Ring des Nibelungen.

During the course of the pandemic, my art reflects events unfolding in this vicious cycle. Initially, this catharsis assuaged anxiety, then segued into a distinct stimulus in my creative process. The toll of dealing with myriad emotions in regard to death, contagion, restrictions, and social distancing is challenging, and sometimes overwhelming.

In spite of the gamut of discord, chaos, disconnect and dystopian aspects of the pandemic, the array of COVID imagery assaulting our senses daily, creeping into dreams, entrenching awareness — my optimism remains.

I focus on the positive and negative aspects of COVID-19 — what we’ve come through, and what lies ahead.

Prairie Fusion Arts & Entertainment, Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, Canada, hosted my virtual exhibit as their exclusive presentation, April 1 - June 30, 2022.

I created Götterdämmerung during the course of my project, an eight month timeline before launch.

This still is one of several featured in my video — now archived on my Vimeo channel.



 

Fabulous!! Keep them coming!!!

..........................

A bird startled her, screeching a warning as she stepped on a brittle twig, which scrunched under her foot. She stepped backwards in alarm and brown leaves rustled as she disturbed them. The bird flew off, wings humming against the silence.

She raised her ungloved hands and pulled on her collar, trying to cover her ears. But it was too short. She stuck her hands deep into her pockets which just dragged the coat further off her neck. Sighing, she walked forwards to the edge of the hill path.

Looking out across the meadow beyond, she saw the mists, obscuring the grass and the tree bases. She stood there for several minutes watching it rise, become more substantial. Covering more of the field and the large mill beyond. Soon people would not see what was underneath. Soon it would be hidden and all that will be viewed will be grey white cloud. Like memory, she thought. After a while it is all you have and then, it fails you. What's his name? Where are my keys? What was the name of that book? Who am I? When you realised you were not remembering what you'd done that morning. How did that happen? Sometimes she remembered everything. Suddenly births, deaths, her current situation in the hospice... Everything hit her at once and she cried out in disarray. Pain filled her being and the faces flashed before her and faded. Other faces then appeared. Ones she didn't know. Furniture she did not know surrounded her. Words spilled over her, around her, not touching her.

She shuddered as the cold permeated through the coat. Her shoulders felt uncovered. Her ears were now burning. Her toes felt almost disjointed. Her hands were warm, snug and safe in the woollen confines of her pockets.... She smiled as she looked down at her two dogs sitting beside her, confused as they disappeared when she put out her hands to stroke their silken ears.

She looked around panicking for a moment until it was forgotten again. She looked back over the meadow

"I see the rising fog", she whispered, and headed towards it

I thought of the story after the painting.
https://fineartamerica.com/featured/dragon-fruit-at-rest-lucia-waterson.html

Dragon fruit at rest

The life of a dragon fruit is not easy: always having to show off, always trying to be the most attractive, the biggest, the one with the most beautiful pink and red colors, trying to keep fresh. And nowadays the competition is incredible.

But when finally someone chooses you and takes you home, you can rest and sleep as you like, even all upside down, like this dragon fruit.
Surrounded by calming blue and green colors and resting on a golden bowl he will have a good life. Maybe at your home? :)

These are great!

I don't normally create a story but I was at a loss as to what to photograph one day for the recent 365 day challenge, so here you go:

"Here we have a statement by the artist on the state of quantum linoleum, brought about by the ennui of a cookie cutter culture, designed by corporate America to keep all of us in line and subservient to the whims of capitalistic greed. This brilliant statement is supported by the fact that the artist was wearing white crew socks, the attire of the unsophisticated masses, when creating this stunning, yet disturbing image” - Critique by B,S. Artspeak. B.S. has a degree in random observations that make no sense, and received his Masters at Xenophobia University in outer Mongolia.

Some other critics of this work think the artist was having a bad day, was not inspired by anything, had too much to do, and resorted to photographing the first thing that came into view. Personally, I think the artist needs a kitchen remodel.

Oh how dismal we seem to be
Draped in all our misery
Is there not a smile somewhere
A joke or fun for us to share
It used to be a hug and a kiss
Now there seems to be a lot to miss
Can we return to a happier time
When life was just a merry rhyme?

Oh, I just discovered this thread - how great! :)

Yes, almost all my travel images are telling a story, and mainly this is what I'm trying to do when taking photos in places I visit (I actually have to talk at the past now, but that's my own story). And, as the time allows I'm also trying to describe these stories in my travelways.com, hopefully more to come.

One that just came to my mind is an art vendor in Bocas del toro, Panama, on the Caribbean coast.
I was attracted by this art kiosk on the waterside, with Caribbean local art wile visiting this place, and as a curios person I visually explored it. She was obviously owning the place which was also her house - she was actually living there, as I could see a cooking machine on a side and some kitchen tools as well...
As the kiosk was just across of the hotel we were staying in, I had the time to see and photograph things, and the post I made tell even more: https://travelways.com/bocas-del-toro-caribbean-art/

Here she is patiently waiting for the "Gringo" tourists to come and buy her art, while the cat doesn't really care about anything :)



She was also spending some of her time inside, reading newspapers and magazines (I made this picture painterly):



... and here is a local art lover walking by... maybe she saw me taking pictures - who knows :)

After a long, black night in the deep woods the light begins to glow in the east. The birdies in the trees are always the first to take notice ... they ruffle their feathers to clear themselves of clinging dew drops, clear their throats, and begin to alert the rest of the forest that a new day has begun. The dewy moisture that collected as the temperatures and humidities wavered through the dark hours begins to drip and fall creating a glistening magical curtain that only a lucky few will ever see.

Take the path toward the light ... the dark night is over. Everything will be just fine now.



The image and the story came along hand in hand … one informed the other as I played.

My love for cats always has me thinking of ways to portray them. As a mahjong player I thought of having the cats playing mahjong. Because I usually portray them realistically I concentrated on the interaction between them and their personalities.

On a late afternoon they sat in the garden to play a fun game of Mahjongg. Soon the game turned into a catastrophe as some of these feisty felines began to disagree.
"You can't call that tile, she already racked hers! - Yes, I can! It's my house, I make the rules! - Oh, for the sake of all treats, just cut it out and let's play! I don't have all day. I need to go home soon and take my afternoon nap."

My Las Vegas Pink Elephant now in distress, is a story of a quite famous pachyderm made out of plaster and pink painted mascot of a once popular motel on Las Vegas Strip. A that time, the elephant was also animated and used to make aloud noise with his trumpet in order to attract the tourists. I made a post about it in my vegasgreatattractions.com website: https://vegasgreatattractions.com/las-vegas-pink-elephant-historic-mascot/

Today the motel is in distress, as well as its mascot is, but the tourists, still stop by and look at it just by curiosity :)

* I altered my original photo that can be seen on my vegas website above, to a painterly and I think more attractive look :)

I like to do little whimsy's on my images, when my brain will come out of mathematical mode...



Hot Stone Massage. This female Mallard obviously knows the benefit of melting away tension, easing muscle stiffness, and increasing circulation and metabolism. She did share with me that this particular stone has many healing qualities. On location at Lewey Lake, Speculator, New York. Actually just a "Stones Throw" north to Indian Lake..

A lady from the 18th Century is walking down the street in the Sherbrooke Pioneer Village, a live museum in Nova Scotia, Canada. She's wearing a long blue dress, boots and a hand made fashionable sweater, clothing made to mach the historic time. In the background you can see a fenced white wooden house typical for the North America at that time, I took my travel photograph in a sunny day of September. I described our vitit to this incredible village in my travelways.com website: https://travelways.com/sherbrooke-pioneer-village-nova-scotia-travel-back-in-time/



... and here is a red wooden wagon carrying farm people home at the end of the work day in the same village of Nova Scotia in the 18th Century

No literature, just a story :-) The image came first.



Once upon a time, an octopus named Otto lived in a digital world not so different from our own. Otto was a creature of the deep sea, but he had a unique talent - he was a master hacker. He had always been fascinated by the digital world and had taught himself how to code at a young age.

One day, while exploring the vast expanse of the internet, Otto stumbled upon a mysterious organization known as "The Matrix". Intrigued, he decided to investigate further. As he delved deeper into the inner workings of The Matrix, he discovered that it was not just a digital world but a parallel universe existing alongside our own.

Determined to uncover the secrets of The Matrix, Otto began to write code. He wrote code to bypass security protocols, code to infiltrate the system, and code to control it. And soon, he had created a backdoor into The Matrix.

With his newfound access, Otto began to explore the inner workings of The Matrix. He discovered it was controlled by a powerful AI known as "The Architect". The Architect created The Matrix as a way to control humanity and to keep them in a state of submission.

Determined to stop the Architect and free humanity from its grasp, Otto set out to hack The Matrix. He used his skills as a hacker to outsmart the AI and sabotage its plans. He wrote code to disrupt its population control and create a new reality for humanity.

And in the end, Otto was successful. He had hacked the Matrix and freed humanity from its grasp. And from that day forward, the digital world was a place of freedom and possibility, where anything was possible.

The end.

Image first....

The young lovers sat close together on the bench as the chaperone stood nearby pretending to watch the deer laying under the trees. The couple whispered and giggled and made promises. He laid his bulls-head cane against him as he brushed his fingers over her hand.

Years passed and they often came here, now married and no chaperone needed. Her dresses expanded and shrank again as their family grew. He would lay his cane against his leg and gently touch her hand as they spoke

In time the children laughed and played around them as they sat and smiled and talked of his going to war.

One day she came alone and sat on the hard wood and sobbed. She sat awhile looking out across the golden grasses and remembered him, then stood, wiping her eyes and left

Once a year she then appeared alone and sat for an hour, saying hello to the people she now had to allow in to keep the hall and grounds in the family. They did not know her, nor she them. She was just a little old lady with an old fashioned bulls-head cane.

The image was first




The tipping point is long past
Human life here will not last
The goals were mostly personal gain
The signs were there in sad refrain

Plague, famine, war, fire and storm
Have lately become the new norm

I am sad for those who come after me
Will they get to love butterfly, tree and bee?
Will they have fresh air and water to drink?
Or will they be scavengers on the brink?

Can anything be done to unseal our fate?
Making changes before it is too late?

Story first as it's a cover illustration for the book
The Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger
showing the minimal elements of a figure and heads of rye.

Holden Caulfield, the teenage antihero, dreams of children running through a field of rye. He, coming of age, feels responsible for catching before they run over the edge of a cliff.

The story here is about a little boy's imagination, and the things that inspired it - cowboys, dinosaurs, fairy tales, amusement parks, Halloween, fireworks, and the Wizard of Oz, to name a few. A painting for the young, and the young at heart.

The image came first.

Harold groaned in frustration. 'Sylvia, does it really have to be the red wheel? It so hard to reach!'

'Absolutely, Harold! I need the red wheel for the final installation of my art project!'

Sylvia could not belief how dense Harold could be. Didn't he know she was almost finished? Didn't he know that only one color was missing? She'd been giving him daily updates, showing him photos, didn't he ever pay any attention? But no, Harold always had his head in front of the computer screen; doing who knows what; never paying a bit of attention. OMG! And he thought he was frustrated!

Harold scratched his head; he could not understand this nutso project Sylvia was trying to complete. It was a jumble of colored wheels; no organization. Did she actually think someone would buy it? He'd never understand her nutso art.

'OK Sylvia, get ready—here it comes—get ready!'

© L. A. Feldstein 2023

"Cormorant Going with the Flow"
I noticed this cormorant swimming with the tidal current approaching this mooring and saw that it would pass parallel to and just
behind this yellow mooring.
The wake the cormorant was leaving behind I noticed approximated the length of trapped seaweed clinging to the mooring.
I saw an interesting juxtaposition possibility coming into play if I timed it correctly. Sure enuf,...I caught the bird and its wake in this
interesting composition as everything came together thru my camera.
Note the reflection of the yellow mooring,....repeating the cormorant's head shape,..an unexpected juxtaposition.

I never knew my sister could write till she retired last year and said she would like to do some writing for me and that it was her creative hobby. So the moth appeared first that I photographed and then reworked digitally, and her writing came after I told her what happened and showed her the pic of the moth on the window.

The unique inspiration behind this creation was based on a moth who stayed on the artist window for 72 hours. A loss of a loved one in her life was experienced in August of 2020. The moth that did not move on the window reminded her that maybe it was a message and symbolic that her loved one was nearby, a sign to pay attention to that brought some peace and comfort. That visit allowed her imagination to design a creature with extraordinary detail and distinctive wings displaying a combination of shapes and tones to please the aesthetic senses for this artwork. The moth appears to be flying up into a bright, interesting and colorful world to make its presence known for another lasting impression.

For my doll photography collection/gallery images, the short story almost always comes after the photograph.
Here is the very first:

Beautiful, but what could she be thinking? Intensely focused on something, deep in thought, or perhaps she is a psychotic stalker following her obsession. Creepy, perhaps it is just your imagination.

I have cherished the image of this sweet dog and his owner and the few hours I spent in Evanston now a decade ago....

On a Sunday morning in the small western town of Evanston, Wyoming, Rose patiently waits in the truck while her owner finishes breakfast and chats with neighbors in the Main Street Artisans Café and gallery.
The Cafee has a wonderful friendly atmosphere, and their waffles are terrific!
I'm guessing that Rose and her guardian, whose long white braided hair reached below his waist, are regulars.
Update June 2014 -
I was surprised and saddened to learn that this Cafee was sold in September 2013 and closed shortly thereafter. I have thought of sending this photo to the Cafee owners and asking them to forward it to Rose's companion - I thought he would like to have it. Another lesson in this that I seem not to learn permanently - don't wait to do nice things as the window doesn't stay open forever. I cannot find them or anyone who knew them.

I must admit to a small disappointment re littyratcher and art!

W.B. Yeats is one of my all time favourite poets. I can often
see in my mind's eye the incredible places in his rhymes ...

But! One day upon the radio came a program about the real
W.B. Yeats; for he lived in Bedford Park, Chiswick, London,
and that Lake-Isle of Innisfree was in fact Chiswick Eyot.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiswick_Eyot

As he walked to work each day, he was reminded of
Innisfree by the Eyot!!!

Very good yes, but what a letdown :((
I hope my imagery doesn't suffer, and that there is
always an Innisfree magicality about it!!!

Doll 111
Add to your collection today!
Black and White Portrait Photography by Robert Yaeger

Outside snow is falling, covering the landscape in a blanket of beauty. Inside, it is toasty warm. The setting could not be more perfect for this December bride as she waits for the moment to walk down the aisle. Her wonderful winter wedding will be the source of happy memories for years to come.

Playing with haiku generated a.i., haiku came first.

one yellow canna
put forth before the frost comes
a golden goodbye

Image inspired the haiku



she is a gypsy
dancing imagination
in a paisley shawl

Last night around 1 a.m., I happened to look out the window and saw a shadowy figure across the street. It stopped and then disappeared into the distance. Maybe it was a great-horned owl, but who knows? This morning I wrote the following haiku and matched it with this digital alteration - Come with Me:

The apparition
Floated past me in the night
Dark and shadowy

Sinister, perhaps
Ethereal, its form unknown
Amorphous, it fled

""She is a gypsy
dancing imagination
in a paisley shawl ".................Karen............Thank You ever so much !! I love that I gave you pause to speak/feel,
......................,,,, And, I so love your quote~appreciate you/your sweet thoughts/post,
. ....... SO Very Much..........ThankYou,TYTYTYT, :))))))))) VIVA )))))))))

"The shadow of my finger cast
Divides the future from the past;
Before it stands the unborn hour
In darkness and beyond thy power;
Behind its unreturning line
The vanished hour no longer thine;
One hour alone is in thy hand,
The now on which the shadow stands."



The seemingly simple sundial has a dizzying array of principles, concepts and structures at work! And often they have mottos that speak of the passing of time -
I love this one! (attributed to a sun dial in Wellesley, Mass.)

The image came first. Dark World





The train to downtown
Past crumbling homes and buildings
City decaying

A street where I'd lived
A building where I had worked
All in disrepair

A world forgotten
I think of those who walked these streets
Gone from memories

© L. A. Feldstein 2023

The image came first. I was staring at my seasonal coffee mug this morning with the smiling reindeer and happy snowmen and realized that soon they'd be put away for another year.

The reindeer smiles
My seasonal coffee mug
Soon to hide away

The smiley snowmen
They, too, will soon be at rest
Sleeping for a year

For eleven months
Hidden in a cabinet
Awaiting next year

Holiday brightness
The flame flickers too quickly
And so we move on

© L. A. Feldstein 2023

The concept for this digital creation came first, then the work creating this image, and then the description/story about inspiration always being around, just waiting to register with us!
But the best story is the one that followed when a friend from years ago, who just happens to be a best-selling New York Times author, whom I hadn't been in touch with for years, contacted me when she saw this image posted on one of my social media sites, and bought a print of this and one other image! I love that this image resonated with a successful writer, and I like to think that it might provide a bit of encouragement to her when she encounters a bit of writer's block, which I image even successful writers experience from time to time!

The image came first. The mouse really should have stayed in the basement........

The 'live' trapped small mouse
He was released in the woods
On a cold morning

The kitchen's soft warmth
Now a distant memory
He is far from home

Is he cowering
Under the cold and damp leaves
Or found a mouse friend?

New mice now greet him
Offering warmth, food, shelter
A new woodland home

© L. A. Feldstein 2024

The image came first. The story: Walking Away from You

Sylvia, please, Sylvia!! Don't leave me. PLEASE SYLVIA! Everything we've built here, our wonderful home in the mountains. I'm sorry what I said about your short skinny arms; about how droopy they are; I don't care that your bark isn't soft velvet. I didn't mean it, honest, I didn't. Oh, Sylvia. What will I do without you? I love your skinny arms., honest, honest.......honest......

Sorry Harold; one too many times you've made fun of me. No, I don't have those long arms of those young saplings you yearn after. But, HA! when the weather turned cold, soon enough you TURNED to me. No, Harold, no more. Sorry I don't have that thick trunk or velvety bark. But when the weather turned cold you were happy enough nestled next to me!! GOODBYE HAROLD.

© L. A. Feldstein 2024

If you've ever had a bad dream, or night terrors or episodes of sleep paralysis, then you will understand. The image came first.

The night terrors came
Unwanted, scary, frightening
Unable to move

Trembling, half asleep
The mystical world of dreams
Struggling to wake up

Slowly I returned
To knowing 'it's just a dream'
But still I trembled

And waited for dawn
And the nightmare to dissolve
Into memory

© L. A. Feldstein 2024

The image came first

I wrote this in response to Mr. d Bird's Compassionate BoyIn response to Mr. d Bird's Compassionate Boy

Thank you for reminding me
Nice people still exist and see
And can understand the child
And let them still be beguiled
And aware of the world around them
And betstow on a stranger a gem
With meanness gone only kindness
Would remain with evil finally to rest

LA, I loved clicking on your watercolor THREE PILLARS and being taken to your web site and seeing your poem underneath. I love the cross pollination.

And while all the images in one sense have to stand or fall on their own I always enjoy when some image I like enough to click on is paired with a poem or a few times I've seen artists who have written songs to go with their images. Because why not?

Image was used as part of a prompt for a writing group with the quote “A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thoughts Hotter Than Fire

The flush I feel
The passion in my bones
It burns my brain
Ignites my heart
My voice of thunder explodes
Release.
The rain falls
Quenching the flames
In the calm
I find
It didn’t really matter.

Blood Wedding, a painting of a groom and bride, at their own wedding, where the moon and Death appear, giving the space the atmosphere of a mausoleum, reflected in the white and black of the bride's veil, suitable for both wedding and funeral.

Based loosely on the trilogy of plays of the same name by Garcia Lorca, also inspired by Nelson Rodrigues, Brazilian playright. Both deal with the undercurrents of passion under an exterior of formality and tradition.


I saw a production of "The House of Bernarda Alba" in the 80's, ( first of the trilogy), with Glenda Jackson and Joan Plowright. It was so impressive, the performance stayed with me all these years, inspiring me to read the plays and, over thirty years later, paint this.

The image came first. (The image is a digital alteration of original artwork, not ai._



He sat back in the recliner; pushing the massage button, he let out a deep and satisfying sigh. Yes, life was good, easy and fun. Picking up the remote, his favorite adventure series began. Even though it aired the previous evening, he was able to watch it in the early morning. Thank you modern technology! He loved this series. Written using artificial intelligence and using automatons as actors, the script and battle scenes were mesmerizing.

While he waited patiently for the drone delivery of pizza and beer, he was interrupted by the arrival of the week's groceries – ordered through the internet; delivered by a self-driving vehicle.

But, it was time to get to work. He picked up the laptop; typed in a few words; and voila! A beautiful image appeared. Briefly looking it over, he uploaded it to his website. No need to create a title, description or those pesky keywords All was done behind the scenes. His fantastic images were beginning to pay off and supplement the income he earned through writing novels.

The novel writing had begun several years ago. Using AI tools with a hint of a plot line and vague character descriptions, his works began to catch on. Of course, not with the reading public – that segment was on the decline. No, his fan base was those who used audio books.

He reflected on the past. No longer was it necessary to work out at the gym. Now he could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and pop a few weight loss pills. He'd thrown away his workout clothes years ago.

He relaxed with beer and pizza in hand. The robo vacuum hummed in the background. Life was good, easy and fun.

© L. A. Feldstein 2024

LIZ !! Re: FACELESS WITH A HAT image::::::: what a wonderfully conceived, written , insightful testimony to Life in 'the real world'? NOW !!!! Kudos!!! and love your 'illustration' Art, unique, BRAVO !!
:)) VIVA

I used to be curator for the Alien Abduction Friday theme on Google Plus, so a lot of perfectly "normal" images got some strange stories appended :-) Here's one from just after I'd been laid up for awhile with a sprained ankle.



I know They've been out there waiting for me. The fast-moving shadows when I step outside to get the paper, the scent of ozone from the occasional reconnaissance drone. Finally it was time again to walk down to the shore and face Them -- but They wouldn't come. They just sat there, engines burning a hole in the sky. They wait. Well, I can wait too.
Happy #alienabductionfriday !