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Art student in the painting studio of the old Southend Art School - knocked down soon after this photo was taken in 1965.
Altered art necklace
Materials: vintage cameos, watch faces, cats eye, ceramic rose, rhinestones, vintage broken earring, glass beads, acrylic beads
The agony in the garden, after Martin Schongauer, about 1515-1550.
This image is available in full HD resolution upon request.
Georges Braque (1882–1963)
The Large Trees
1906–1907
Oil on canvas mounted on composition board
80 x 70.5 cm
Museum of Modern Art, New York
This is the Sister of Battle (from Warhammer 40K) that goes with the scenery image I posted a few days ago.
Pencil and digital colors in Photoshop
Essa mani ficou muito linda, meninas! Até meu professor da faculdade falou! hahaha
Esse azul escuro maravilhoso é o Deep Blue da B.U. O esmalte prata é o Brinco de Festa da Colorama e o glitter é o Disco Ball da Impala. No final, passei uma camada do brilho da Ellen Gold (não considero top coat porque demora muito pra secar) e ficou esse brilho todo!
O link pro post do blog com mais fotinhas é esse: ideias-de-caroline.blogspot.com.br/2013/12/silver-dots.html
PS.: Não foi proposital, mas achei que ficou uma ótima combinação para o Ano Novo.
Beijos!
2005-2007
Colored pencil, modeling paste on wood panel
Collection:
Crocker Art Museum
Hereafter is a transcription of the handwritten text above:
"In the Janus of every artist’s life, the productive time-span is supported by a fulcrum set of ways in the now. The past is an ever increasing encroachment on the future, the challenge, the balance and verticality of the herm. Is Desire of sufficient weight to off-set the freighted past? Is my desire strong enough to prolong the contest, to shed my past, my skin, my song, rather than have it ripped from me by force of failure rather than by embrace of inevitability? Is my desire large enough to maintain balance of the herm while my ever increasing past forces the downward slash of the flayer? I sense a renewed expansion of possibility in the Winter Notebooks. It is as though the past is being absorbed through utilization of its significance in the future, an understanding of its cadence of repetition and determination of conclusion. Perhaps in the pages to come lies the possibility for fusion of time to effect an imperative shift of the fulcrum in the balance of the herm. This would mean a complete reconstruction of the Now. Is this possible? There appears a puzzling wanting to make these pages beautiful. At the same time there is an increasing aversion to audience. further, I have never felt so detached from the actuality of the thingness in the process of making. What is this seeming contradiction? Perhaps the space afforded within the contradiction is the remainder of my life. Perhaps the fulcrum has already shifted. Perhaps the reconstruction of the Now is simply a furthering deconstruction of the audience through a continued faceting of the self. Perhaps by accepting the unchangeable past, its weight and encroachment is decreased. Perhaps the beauty I want for the Winter Notebooks is simply an expression of gratitude for having arrived at this personal state of Isness. [Many questions are posed by the myth of Marsyas. The most fascinating for me being the anthropomorphizing of artifacts, the life or death contest of competing metaphors, and the eternal conflict between artist and culture-maker, creator and controller, chaos and order, host and parasite. The corpse of Marsyas, a fossil trapped in the amber of linear time, is semblance of the artist’s fate. Dates of birth and death parenthesize the flaying, the pain, the ecstasy, and the inevitable forfeiture of his song. At last, skinless, he enters into the rapturous languor of anonymity and repose. I love Marsyas as I love myself as I love all artists who challenge the gods. The real contest lies not outside ourselves in the guise of muses and culture-makers but inside with our unspeakable Desire and the inevitability of failure. There is no victory here, only the promise of it and the bittersweet pursuit of onanistic enterprise. If an artist’s desire is capitalized, his appetite is unquenchable, his boundaries unlimited, his embrace of failure succinct and pure. Praise and criticism are of equal obscurantism. Both are patronizing and both are obstructive. Muses and culture, who confer either, signify nothing other than their own creativity. Their creation is culture, their objective is history, the hook on which hangs the corpse of Marsyas. Within the sphere of time which spins our lives, past, present and future are the affirmation of existence; our skin our song, the extirpation of this illusion. This bifurcation is not contradictory. It is humanity at its highest cadence of evolution. It is also its key to extinction. The actual and the real. That which is and that which IS. The history of myth and the myth of history. art and Art."
Canaletto (Giovanni Antonio Canal) (1697–1768)
Venice Campo S. Vidal and Santa Maria della Carità ("The Stonemason's Yard")
c. 1725
Oil on canvas
123.8 x 162.9 cm
National Gallery, London
DeGrazia shared dual passions for art and music. Growing up in the copper-mining camp of Morenci, DeGrazia played trumpet in bands with his brothers. To pay for his university expenses, he planted trees on campus by day and led his big band at night, which performed popular music and original compositions DeGrazia wrote in the 1930s. In 1945, DeGrazia completed his Master of Arts in Music at the University of Arizona. For his thesis, “Art and Its Relation to Music in Art Education”, he explored the connection between visuals and music. Visitors can hear DeGrazia’s music in the gallery’s gift shop. Happy Throwback Thursday!