Trompe L'Oeil method of creating depth perspective
Escaping Criticism by Pere Borrell del Caso, 1874
Saturday, November 28, 2009
One Fine Day: August 2009
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Spring 2009 Metro Art: Takoma to Cheverly
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Summer 2008: Summer of Swing [Semester]
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Cheverly, Environs: Fall 2007 and Spring 2008
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A William Faulkner inspirational
"Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself."
Thursday, November 12, 2009
November in the Mid-Atlantic
O Nature, your primal sanities
Are my disease
And I see my sickness shining
On the endless avenues of common concrete faces
To them I must seem ill
Still I resist their medication
While I'm tempted to be healed-
My mind grows obese on the delicacies
Of sex and gourmet things
And jealousy stokes my hunger
Many are the urban fruits
But each is a bit rotten
A bit plastic
A bit pappig
A bit anonymous
A bit wanton
And mostly deceptive
Trotzdem, On a balmy November day
I smell something familiar and sweet on the air
While standing at the end of the platform
And no one seems to notice
The next day is brooding, grey, and chilled
But once again near the train station
I'm struck by the wild scent
Which I find from flowers
Like little lillies
Silent among sharp osmanthus
So give me your fruits, o nature
Your pure seductions
Your wild rapture
Your chirping crickets mating desperately
Before the first frost
Give me the clean danger of animals and storms and rivers
Where I find my humble place among the universe
Of rocky tundra
Your feast and famine
---------------------------
In conversation ~
"Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun" by Whitman
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
Are my disease
And I see my sickness shining
On the endless avenues of common concrete faces
To them I must seem ill
Still I resist their medication
While I'm tempted to be healed-
My mind grows obese on the delicacies
Of sex and gourmet things
And jealousy stokes my hunger
Many are the urban fruits
But each is a bit rotten
A bit plastic
A bit pappig
A bit anonymous
A bit wanton
And mostly deceptive
Trotzdem, On a balmy November day
I smell something familiar and sweet on the air
While standing at the end of the platform
And no one seems to notice
The next day is brooding, grey, and chilled
But once again near the train station
I'm struck by the wild scent
Which I find from flowers
Like little lillies
Silent among sharp osmanthus
So give me your fruits, o nature
Your pure seductions
Your wild rapture
Your chirping crickets mating desperately
Before the first frost
Give me the clean danger of animals and storms and rivers
Where I find my humble place among the universe
Of rocky tundra
Your feast and famine
---------------------------
In conversation ~
"Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun" by Whitman
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
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