Been painting this painting again and again and again since the summer.. i dont know how many times i scraped the paint off the canvas and started again.. its been a frustrating journey where i still havn't found the end. I asked Paolo if i could paint him in the summer.. and i have been apprehensive in posting the result.. since this is where i have got, which is not great.

Too many psycological things happening, which strangely affect the way i work these days.. energy is somewhat down, i dont have the spark that i use to, its hiding somewhere.. somewhere in the night bushes.. i have to find it fast befor i lose it for good..

Cultural colors coming together

Flowing, merging with the soul,

Outside mirrors the inside but not entirely,

Ideas and beliefs come from everywhere not just one source

One cannot literally face themselves, it is impossible.

Mirrors tell the truth in reverse

I wonder how it would be like to face ones self

Watch the mannerisms

Listen to ones own voice from outside the body

It sounds different in the head

Always wondering and exploring

I duno… im just babbling…

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added to www.flickr.com/groups/cotc/

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Can be used for www.flickr.com/groups/picturetravel

“A goal is a dream with a deadline.”

- Napoleon Hill

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There is no feeling like acomplishing a goal...The sleepless nights and the tears are worth it, the goal makes everything worth while.

I'm visualising the end.. thinking positive.. im almost there..

Every storm has a silver lining..

"Some appreciate art,

Some don't,

Some like it,

Some don't,

Some get it,

Some don't,

Some make it,

Some don't.

It CAN be learn't,

It CAN be taught,

but what does it matter?

Am i an artist?

What is an artist anyway?

There is no clear definition for it..

it flows.. it moves..

it moulds itself with time.

Art can be whatever it wan'ts to be.

Does it have a life of its own?

Do we control it?

or

Does it control us?

Practical...

Decorative...

here and there..

up or down..

left or right..

What does it all mean?

In the end we are left with..

A thought"

- Honest (being Confusing)

Steping back in time, remembering the days when families actualy went out together, had fun, laughed and talked. Actualy talk about something good. Children run up the dunes and roll down. The young girls picking up their dresses and tying them above their heads rolling down the hills so the sand does not get into their eyes. The smell of the wood on the fire is intense, mothers and fathers cooking, the camels and goats roam around. Stories ingrained in every grain of sand can tell thousands of stories about happyness, sadness, tears and war.

Yet now some have lost the language & understanding of that place but from time to time the whispers of the past are carried by the wind.

I think i hear something.. or do I ?

the cloth makes her seem not incontrol.. maybe weak maybe even oppresed.. but the truth is the contrary, she is the boss.. she is in control of the ropes. Doesn't let you judge her for what she looks like, but for who she is. She forces you to look inside of her befor seeing her "outside" The power is in her hands, she decides who she reveals herself to. Only the worthy are able, only the worthy can appreciate. Don't feel sorry for her, for she holds the power, don't let a piece of material confuse your thoughts.

Inspired by some old shots Crea-tive did.

although the meaning is totaly different.

"Life. Anxiety. Depresion. Pain. Hurt. Work. Read. Write Work. Paint. Read. Write Work. Paint. Think. Do. Job. Life. Family. Helpless. Hope. Think. Do. Work. Write. Job. Structure. Read. Design. Create. Produce. Enigma. Anxiety. Depresion. Me. We. Who? What? Where? When? Sleep. Eat. Shower. Write. Produce. Direct. Create. Life. Anxiety. Pain. Upload. Impload. EXPLODE !"

-Me

There comes a stage in every artists life where they question what they are doing, if its good enough. Are photos even worth taking if they are the same as someone else took or could take? Is there even originality anymore? How can one be original..?? different? unique.. one of a kind.

so what i'm thinking now is..everyone is unique, yet no one is..

its frustrating..

"Time is upon us,

we say farewell to Ramadan,

welcoming eid,

family and friends,

fragrance shall perfume the air,

tables filled with feasts fit for kings,

doors opened welcoming all,

sharing the love,

hopes and dreams,

a time to come together,

being grateful for what we have been given,

a time for giving,

being generous,

having understanding."

i dedicate this to all of you beautiful flickreebies.. especialy to my personal friends studying abroad who cannot be home to celebrate the occasion... Aphrodite, Crea.tive, Shimmy, Reason, Windlass.. and many more.. thank you all for being a part of my life and adding that little extra color to it.

Eid Mubarak..عيدكم مبارك from Honest

Midnight Ramblings Again...

(Of course it won't make sense)

Between two worlds..

they meet and are unaware that the other exists... or do they?

A third entity emerges creating a world where anything can happen..

Whatever happens in that world cannot leave..

a safe cage..it is blury.. and clear.. a paradox.

Questions and more questions..

sometimes there are answers,

although most of the time more questions emerge.

Words and more words repeating after one another..

i know they are beautiful.. although what they are i do not know.

Things are missing things do not fit.....

...........perhaps tomorrow.. the canvas will be painted and the white will be filled with color.

She knocks on my door

She says:-

“Call him

Call him

Call him”

Ring, ring, ring…

Phone’s off..

She says:-

“Call him

Call him

Call him”

Ring, ring…

Phone’s off.

What do I do now?

He needs to know.

What do I do now?

He needs to know.

She says “Call him”

I can’t… He’s with him.

She say’s “CALL HIM”

Why? Why?

I’m not angry.

I’m scared.

I won’t do it.

He always does this,

Always, always.

It’s a vicious cycle…

Ending in heartbreak.

Mine.

That is the story of my life.

- Honest

"...searching for a muse.. wherever she, he, it may be.. high and low its no where to be found. it was lost for sometime thinking everywhere has been searched . Then.. the realisation hit.. to look internaly.. deep inside where no one has gone befor.. where no thought of light has passed or has seen what resides within the unlocked chambers. The light gets into the crevases, revelaing hints of what is inside, yet not all is revealed.. we can only asume, glance from a distance through the narrow opening to read every hidden message, every meaning, it is not clear yet understood.

Everyone has gone through the same journey yet each journey is unique, creating its own bumps and shapes, building upon one another creating an entity understood by all to be human. To walk, talk and smile.. each journey is incomplete and remains mysterious, where is the begning i wonder... is there even an end?"

- Honest

________________________________________________________________

I invite you to share any ramblings you have in mind.. it does not have to make sense or even have anything to do with the image..

- a simple word..

- a phrase

.. it can take any form you want..

show us a chamber.. :)

I remember the days when the coffee was brewing in the kitchen and the jasmine was freshly picked after a morning walk.

Having breakfast before school and running out the door so as not to be late.

Coming home to hear tales about the days when…

The days that will never return but that are etched in our memories

Thoughts drifting back to the past because of a scent

It triggered story upon story

A smile starts to be drawn on the face,

Those were the days the sun shone brightly and life was all about the games

About breathing the fresh air and appreciating every single part of life.

Now that summer is here and the Jasmine’s are blooming,

I remember her voice, the voice of kindness and understanding,

She held my hand and placed some flowers in them…

I breathe in today the scent of the past, remembering the days when…

A summer breeze is always unique, carrying memories within it. As the flowers bloom scents of the past drift back filling the air. They create a large embrace... everything feels better today, the sun is shining brighter though the heat seems less, or maybe its just because im writing this in the shade. Taking in a deep breath, turning a new page, looking at life with fresh new eyes. This is the time to re-evaluate, think and to renew and confirm the people we are.

Have a great summer everyone. *Hug*

Hands converse under the sun, disjoined from the body they roam around freely. Walking like tip toes but on their fingers, lying in the shade talking about the old days, about their past present and future. Warmth is not just felt from the sun but from the core.

Take time for yourself, take a break, look around, ask questions, be curious. Remember to breathe to truly breathe from the inside out.

Sun peaking through the curtains

A curiosity starts growing

What lies beyond is what has always been

Yet the light calls eyes to whitness the new day

Birds singing their morning songs

The energy, the mood, the sounds

Everything seems fresh and new

Or am i just observing life in a new light?

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Im rambling again..

"This is not suposed to make sense. . . . . . .

A dream repeating itself, night after night, its not scary but surprising. Does it reflect whats happening in life or is it some strange phenomena that some will never understand? Its cold, its hot, or can the breeze be felt if it even exists in the realm of the dream. Meeting people across the sea's our souls leave our bodies while we sleep, living their own life until the time we wake up is the time they enter again into our bodies so that we "humans" function. Robots, repeating everything day after day the same way but never the same. Everyone is unique yet the same. Hopes, Dreams, life, love, hate...

A hand is shaking me..

its time to wake up.."

-Me

((this will make sense to some, and absolutly no sense to others. It depends how deep u read into this))

________________________________________________________________

"sketch after sketch.. .. again and again on repeat..

looking at the past, the history, stories to be told to be read into.

Have to watch out for something around hiding in the background visible to some. We all know they are there but sometimes they become a blur.. in the distance.. we forget..but then something strikes and destroyes everything that has been built. Years of experience builds mask upon mask upon mask creating a shell. A shell covering a beautiful soul hiding it from the world. it takes the strength from within to let someome into the secret shell where story upon story is unfolded. When we think we cannot learn something new, an idea arises we never knew existed. Question upon question builds a life, of truth and of lies people told, years of learning to uncode the code of lies.. reading the stories in the eyes.. in their faces. Their thoughts are revealed seen crystal clear though they themselves cant see it.

If you want see the truth, dont look at a person. look within them."

-Honest

For Details

its a plant that is thinking, feeling and breathing.. taking colors from nature, well it is nature. Am i making sense?

i think something, yet different words come out, its like the brain and the tongue are not connecting in some way. Its strange, but if you can make "art" out of these awkward moments, then that is when the unique art emerges.

I don't know if i am able to do that yet.

Time and time again our bodies and minds go through some sort of trauma, it is inevitable. What is facinating though is the way the body heels, creats its own natural unseen bandaid. Although it takes time for the bandaid to hide the scar but it happens,if you look closely you will see it...

The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.

- Robert Heinlein (1907 - 1988)

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Critiques can be harsh sometimes and hit straight to the heart, other times they can make you grow as an artist. They can reassure you that what you are doing is right, or can rip your core right out of you and make you come face to face with it. Moods swirl just like mixing of paint. What I love about critiques is when someone says something you never thought of ever, giving birth to a new idea that one could develop, just like a tree growing new branches and creating deeper roots.

Today I don’t know how I feel after the fact, I need the information to sink in and get absorbed into every cell in my body, then move from there. I tried new avenues of work for 6 months now and I like what I have come up with. It has taught me to appreciate what I have leant years ago. It made me cherish holding a pen or pencil in my hand and to be able to move it on the page spilling out what is in the mind. We take that motion for granted sometimes.

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P.S. Thanks to www.flickr.com/photos/mcclanahan/3812259/in/pool-89937805...

"I think i found it.

I think i have.

I see the results..

The results of this antidote..

shall i reveal it?

Shall i not?

..

its all..

all..

in the mind."

-Me (thinking out loud)

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I would like people who have not discovered the GREAT antimethod to go and discover him RIGHT NOW.. the man is a GENIOUS.

also..

View.. Aphrodite's "Antidote" here.

To get things done sometimes 24 hours without sleep is required.. suggestions..

Drink alot of Coffee.. water.. water.. water.. coffee.. coffee.. and more coffee... maybe a little sandwich as well.. n just hope you dont sleep on your work.

If you dont get enough drinks.. ull have dry splotchy skin in the morning and ull scare whoever you meet.

These are my midnight ramblings.. i have a long night ahead of me !

Coffee is my best friend tonight :)

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P.S. tag whatever u see fit.

Spending time on the steps,

Looking around saying goodbye to everything and everyone I see,

It seems so quiet in here; voices fade into the distance

Another academic year has ended; the doors are being locked for one more year

Students are leaving, graduation is almost here,

I keep thinking, one more year, one more, it feels bizarre.

It was almost like yesterday when we stepped in and now we are almost at the door stepping out.

I wonder what will happen next, careers are going to be formed, some dreams might come true and some might shatter.

A new chapter in life will begin, fresh new curious eyes unleashed into the world..

That is what I thought of in that particular moment, it all started by light caressing the stairs which made me stop in my tracks, take a breath and think.

Created for HonestReporting.com on June 26, 2012. Image Credits:

jeffanddayna/4006898842

Please credit as "CC BY-SA HonestReporting.com, flickr/jeffanddayna" (without quote marks) and link back to this page for attribution.

Original article: The BBC In Its Own Words: “We Made a Mistake"

" She's back,

passes right by me and whispers,

whispers words of sorrow,

a moment of understanding,

something in common,

she still searches,

for that thing,

sensing me,

a tear runs down her cheek,

eye to eye connection,

heart to heart comunication,

finaly, finaly,

i know what she is searching for,

she smiles a hopeful smile,

walks away knowing..

finaly someone understands."

- Me

(of course im in no way a writer, these are just random words from my mind, combined together to create.... a thought.)

sleep..? umm.. what .. is there even time? deadlines deadlinnes deadlines, calls here and there.. go shoot this.. go write this.. print this.. no .. wrong.. right... up down .. left right.. perfectionism, realism, tired eyes speak of something silent.. with no sound.. yet so loud. I hear the sounds, the calling of nothingness.. of being.. of what who or where? Subconcious or concious.. utter randomness meaning nothing in this world.. or does it? questioning> unquestioning? words are magical.. sometimes making sense sometimes just confusing. People turn away not wanting to hear the story of the eyes, it may just break their hearts, they choose not to see.. but it is there.. one must only seek it.. take a step in a direction.. something will come out of it. Im not thinking, my fingers are moving across the keyboard.. i have no idea what i said ... it is just here for all to see and read.. well ppl will get bored n not read.. tooo confusing or is it? links here and there always, its funny no one has seen it yet. I put it out there.. yet.. no one no one knows.. Bed is calling..

i'm okay..

48 hours and almost 3 hours of sleep.. im not sleepy anymore, i crossed that line, now im just a zombie existing.. working like a machine doing things because i have to. Inspiration is lost, gone far far away i remember a time i use to be inspired moments where there was time to laugh, to smile and to talk. Moods go up and down, side to side and upside down. Classes feel empty and useless.. i can feel the end although its coming in slow motion. Electricity in the air, something is going on im not sure what it is.. i hear whispers in the darkness saying words i don't understand.. im still.. immovable.. uninspired.. where did the time go? How did this happen.. The only thing i know is everything that happened befor got me to this place right here right now. I work with what i have thats all we can do, draw inspiration from whatever we can.. if its from a simple flower, gesture.. or thought.. Thats what i use to do.. but now.. im lost.. lost again in this mean world. No matter how many people we have around... we are always alone.

Again ..midnight ramblings.. that dont make sense.. and do somehow.. no idea what im saying or why im saying it. I'm just releasing words into the atmosphere so they arn't in my body anymore.

Break is over, back to work.

P.S. Im okay .. really.

"The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die." -- Edward M. Kennedy, 1980.

For the full speech: tedkennedy.org/ownwords/event/1980_convention

"She walks in the hallways

looking, searching.. trying to find..

to find something, someone,

no one is there,

the hall is cold, freezing,

a breeze.. ever so cold..

from where.. no one knows.

Her presence is felt in the bones,

for comfort or sorrow,

she is there,

hope is all she has,

to this day she walks in the night,

searching for something,

something,

will she ever find it?

no one knows."

-Me

(of course im in no way a writer, these are just random words from my mind, combined together to create.... a thought.)

Fresh Air ~ Floofy and shiny Merino/Silk thick & thin handspun by me from a lovely dyed top from Funky Carolina. Spun with big, soft slubs and plied with a shiny pale blue thread to create gentle waves & coily poofs. Soft & subtle shades of spring greens, ice blues, eggshell pinks & touches of white. Lovely sheen from the silk and super springy!

81 yds

Bulky/Superbulky

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20293

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20255

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20290

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20313

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20313

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

Fresh Air ~ Floofy and shiny Merino/Silk thick & thin handspun by me from a lovely dyed top from Funky Carolina. Spun with big, soft slubs and plied with a shiny pale blue thread to create gentle waves & coily poofs. Soft & subtle shades of spring greens, ice blues, eggshell pinks & touches of white. Lovely sheen from the silk and super springy!

81 yds

Bulky/Superbulky

SOLD

Fresh Air ~ Floofy and shiny Merino/Silk thick & thin handspun by me from a lovely dyed top from Funky Carolina. Spun with big, soft slubs and plied with a shiny pale blue thread to create gentle waves & coily poofs. Soft & subtle shades of spring greens, ice blues, eggshell pinks & touches of white. Lovely sheen from the silk and super springy!

81 yds

Bulky/Superbulky

SOLD

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,3706

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20276

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20243

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20251

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

See deila.dickinson.edu/u?/ownwords,20286

Courtesy of Dickinson College Archives and Special Collections

Fresh Air ~ Floofy and shiny Merino/Silk thick & thin handspun by me from a lovely dyed top from Funky Carolina. Spun with big, soft slubs and plied with a shiny pale blue thread to create gentle waves & coily poofs. Soft & subtle shades of spring greens, ice blues, eggshell pinks & touches of white. Lovely sheen from the silk and super springy!

81 yds

Bulky/Superbulky

SOLD

The artist seeks to give a positive voice to men of color as well as empower them to both confront and shift constructed racial perceptions. The process involved re-contextualizes aspects of law enforcement as its starting point. Men of color are publicly singled out, not to be “stopped and frisked” but rather to be “approached and interviewed”. Each person is asked to write something about himself on a small dry erase board and is then photographed holding it against his chest. The rounded corners of the white board and handwritten, self-defining statements act as a strong symbolic contrast to the square, black, police mug shot board containing numbers rather than a name.

The artist seeks to give a positive voice to men of color as well as empower them to both confront and shift constructed racial perceptions. The process involved re-contextualizes aspects of law enforcement as its starting point. Men of color are publicly singled out, not to be “stopped and frisked” but rather to be “approached and interviewed”. Each person is asked to write something about himself on a small dry erase board and is then photographed holding it against his chest. The rounded corners of the white board and handwritten, self-defining statements act as a strong symbolic contrast to the square, black, police mug shot board containing numbers rather than a name.

Merino/Silk singles on the bobbin, ready to be plied. The fiber is some lovely Funky Carolina top.

The artist seeks to give a positive voice to men of color as well as empower them to both confront and shift constructed racial perceptions. The process involved re-contextualizes aspects of law enforcement as its starting point. Men of color are publicly singled out, not to be “stopped and frisked” but rather to be “approached and interviewed”. Each person is asked to write something about himself on a small dry erase board and is then photographed holding it against his chest. The rounded corners of the white board and handwritten, self-defining statements act as a strong symbolic contrast to the square, black, police mug shot board containing numbers rather than a name.

The artist seeks to give a positive voice to men of color as well as empower them to both confront and shift constructed racial perceptions. The process involved re-contextualizes aspects of law enforcement as its starting point. Men of color are publicly singled out, not to be “stopped and frisked” but rather to be “approached and interviewed”. Each person is asked to write something about himself on a small dry erase board and is then photographed holding it against his chest. The rounded corners of the white board and handwritten, self-defining statements act as a strong symbolic contrast to the square, black, police mug shot board containing numbers rather than a name.

Fresh Air ~ Floofy and shiny Merino/Silk thick & thin handspun by me from a lovely dyed top from Funky Carolina. Spun with big, soft slubs and plied with a shiny pale blue thread to create gentle waves & coily poofs. Soft & subtle shades of spring greens, ice blues, eggshell pinks & touches of white. Lovely sheen from the silk and super springy!

81 yds

Bulky/Superbulky