3 posts tagged “barebrush”
"A Little Time For Pain - Pathetic Intrusion - 3 Days Grace and I'll Be Fine"
Pain
three days grace
a little time
and I will be back to myself
again.
A little time for pain
pathetic intrusion
soon to be dismissed
perhaps not forgotten
completely
but the goddess in me will go on.
Three days of grace
pain will be on its way
out the back door
and out of my life.
Mourning and delving into the moment
sadness
inner reflection
women in pain
men in pain
we all feel that invisible solitude of heartache
in the darkness
late at night
some
times.
Such pitiful
immortal lyrics
toasting costumes
masks
traded in for new dresses
and a gilded cage.
Yet fighting those troubles
beautiful is the heart in time
once acceptance is sung
and ultimately
conquered
for the masterpiece
of a steadfast sign.
Sadness
exotic in so many ways
many a song has been sung under its
watchful days.
Dances with the devil
dances with drawings of angels
carved into the heart.
I am aware of secret tactics
whimsical angels of fantasy
perhaps disguised
dismissing coincidences
tis a dichotomy
bleeding.
Evil blessing a fairies song
goodness stoned
dismissed
denied
despite her wilting sighs?
Trees change within every season
telling me...
Do not cry.
Blessed be the changes of the moon
and how the earth keeps singing.
Rock me in the daylight
let me be inside the lions roar
lest I reach the end
within my sacred plight
unexplored.
Rescue me
tell me time is short
that's what history tells a wounded soldier.
Tell me then
before I shut that gate
lest I forget a devils pen might steal
mercy for my own self
and this majestic date.
I will plan the perfect end
battle the forces
combat the enemy
platitudes mend.
Strategies set
planned now with a warrior woman's
precision
I will scheme to save myself.
Three days
and I will be fine.
Pain
three days grace.
I will make a shoebox diarama
in the rain
one hundred umbrellas sheltering my cause
and in my stead for a weeping song
I will place at the feet
of every flower
a precious gemstone.
Blossoms to stand guard
for my swaying
confused at times
lowly heart.
15 April 2009
by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Title: "Primal Block Party 1"
Artist: Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Medium: Oil on canvas
Size: 9-3x3 blocks=12x12
Description: "Primal Block Party 1" is part of an ongoing self portrait body of work. It is ONE of FOUR of a SET. They can also be purchased separately.
Full series can be seen at Barebrush:
http://www.barebrush.com/Artists/ALB43e.html
Kathy Ostman-Magnusen is represented by:
Monkdogz Urban Art, Inc.
547 West 27th Street
5th floor
New York, NY 10001
ORIGINAL ART may be purchased through Monkdogz.
Website: http://www.monkdogz.com
Ask for Bob Hogge
Hours: 11 am - 6pm
Tuesday thru Saturday and by appointment
Gallery Directors:
Bob Hogge
Marina Hadley
Email Bob: bob@monkdogz.com
Email Marina: marina@monkdogz.com
Tel: 212-216-0030
Fax: 212-216-0031
~~*~~
I am an artist discovering my way. The images I post on my profile are tame but not for children, nude art, mostly from the waist up but erotica is most assuredly explored by me. Not for kids. I do have a VERY tame website however where I offer free coloring pages and a letter from the tooth fairy that is indeed suitable for children and adults alike.
The painting I refer to in my story below is from the Monkdogz show called, "Flashing Flesh" is "Primal 1". I was not there for the opening but I wrote about what it would have been like if I had.
I have never been to New York... that may surprise a few. My art is there, I am represented in New York by Monkdogz Urban Art. I have had several shows there, but for reasons I will not share I have never been to New York.
I tend to share a whole lot more of myself than I should to remain healthy, but I think in the end there are people who are just as insecure about who they are as I am. In the end we are quite honestly no different from one another. Success or lack of it depends on your perspective of life in general.
Someday... I will travel to New York.
~Kathy
"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn... Too"
It wasn't hard to pack, I took only the important things with me, a handful of leaves from trees to remind me where I had come from. Yet I expected more.. there had to be more.
There are journeys that people seek out that lend to experiences not yet lived, I am one of those travelers. My plane to New York would arrive late, but it came and I could not stop myself from crying. A dream met, the hope of all who seek out distant lands, but never speak of them out loud. Whatever keeps the prize from those silent souls is often hidden in boxes with labels that remark there is no return. Boxes full of tape that bind gifts and treasures, only released in dark spaces while completely alone.
"I'm on my way to meet my creative side face to face, lest it lose its resilience," I said inside my mind. "Oh fragile path, its time to stop along the way and breathe in those desires. Time to take out your paints and splash their blood from head to my toe, lick up complaints from the wounded, give solace, because they are you". I cried again..."That's how you got here, you paid for a thousand and one days, time to feel your worth."
My goal met, I stood before my shadow, a painting on the wall. I recognized its worth beyond my past objections and wanted only to soothe myself. I had met one of my emotions head on and its fragrance became the charm I had been looking for. I stood before my painting, my painting of me and gave it back a smile of recognition.
"Did you bring the book?" I heard a voice behind me say.
I did not turn around to see the face from where the voice came, instead I closed my eyes and felt the essence from its breath. I felt it on my shoulder like a bird that rested after flight. I had the book, indeed I did. I took it from my pocket and in the process all the leaves that I had carried so carefully, fell to the ground.
"OH NO!" I opened my eyes and saw their green veined figures on the tiles on which I stood. "However will I find my way home again! However will I remember those graves from all my sadness, reminders from where I came from!?"
The door to the gallery opened and a wind swept in. It took up the leaves and caused them to begin dancing. I could only watch in disbelief. They seemed happy and unconcerned about me. I wanted to gather them again, put them in their place and demand they stay put, do as they were told. The next thing I knew they rushed right out the door, on to the elevator and into the street. I ran blindly waving my arms, screaming and frantic. I would not know who I was without them. However would I find my soul again? I watched the leaves swim through the currents of freedom. To be understood later? I was not sure, I was alone.
I walked back up to the gallery.. sensed a shadow but I was too bereaved to search out its eyes. Standing again in front of my painting I wept. Mysteriously the voice of before, was once again behind me, and it began to sing. It was soft and gently, something about it felt soothing and I wanted to stay there forever. I closed my eyes and bowed my head inhaling the music to my ears. I felt its presence, breathing on my neck, then kissing my shoulder. Opening my eyes, holding the book in hand, I knew a question could be asked of the melody that came from the figure behind me.
I heard myself speak up, "What am I going to do? My tokens, my history have left me, I have no more leaves to remind me of me."
Kisses on my shoulder the melody did reply, "You don't need them anymore, no more regret. No more waiting for life to begin or unrewarded promises of places you have never been only to wonder about. There are fresh leaves on every tree on every journey you will step out to meet."
I turned around to see the figure. Confused at first at what I saw but accepting, the voice I saw came from me. I had met my worth, acknowledged the relief of letting go and knew it was just the beginning.
Remembering the book, I opened up the pages to a treasured quote:
"I wept because the process by which I became a woman was painful. I wept because from now on I would weep less. I wept because I had lost my pain and I was not yet accustomed to its absence."
~Anais Nin
Placing the book on the floor beneath my painting, still open to the words I have understood so many times, I knew exactly what she meant. I then took off all my clothes, left the book behind and entered the world outside.
Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
6 December 2007
copyright 2007 & 2008
Represented by Monkdogz Urban Art,, Inc.
Monkdogz Urban Art, Inc.
547 West 27th Street
5th floor
New York, NY 10001
also viewed at:
Discover my journey.
I paint and sculpt female fantasy art and map faery tale adventures. I
dream of beautiful women on canvas and art of exotic women.
S taken from Anne Wilson Schaef's book. I also illustrated for Neil
Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing,
and several other publications. My paintings are collected worldwide.
Giclee canvas art work, greeting cards and posters are available for sale on my website: www.kathysart.com
Sign up for my mailing list for FREE ART GIFTS: Drawings of whimsical angel pictures, legends of mermaids and fairies in art. Tiny angels whisper fantasy art for shrink art, or coloring pages. Also a "Letter From the Tooth Fairy". Ya just never know when you might need one! New free magical gifts are in my newsletter along with stories, poems and good thoughts.
Discover my journey.
Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
free art gifts
http://www.kathysart.com
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