|Painting of Montana "Grain Silos" , reference photo taken by my son. |
|Dmitry's work is like seeing the mental images of a Shaman who is channeling the ancestors & aliens from outer space all at once. His depictions, shows us forgotten memories, future predictions, & ancient stories. His artwork is unique in so many levels.|
|It's so beautiful it leaves you speechless.|
These are polar opposites of each other. One makes you happy to be alive, the world is bright, full of color & life. It makes you want to soar with the clouds. It makes you feel like there are only good things waiting for you.
The other is a study of depression. The world has been bleached grey, everything is devoid of color, his pain is felt by all the living things around him. They weep for him and with him. His posture makes your want to hold him in your arms, even though every touch brings them (a person with depression) pain.
What I love about this photo is that he took a normal everything common object that we walk over and overlook on a daily basis and he showed us the ethereal beauty of it. It makes me wonder what else this picture is trying to tell us & will we be able to understand it in time.
Everyone knows what a tree looks like, yet not everyone can paint one. He painted what was there PLUS endless possibilities of things that could have been or might have been visible if we had the ability to see beyond our human capabilities: like motes of light on the wings of birds or butterflies or scent of perfume carried on the motion of the wind currents. It a dream-like depiction.
She captured a memory of my childhood. These "blue" roses were my mother's pride & joy. In general I am not a lover of roses, as as a child it was my job to keep them (over a hundred rose bushes) de-headed so they could produce more flowers & those things were evil their nasty thorns scratched & poked my delicate skin & make me bleed. Those burning wounds hurt for days & in my case a lifetime.
"In this age of everyone trying to be the same how does one standout above the crowd?" This army of birds look the same yet there are subtle differences; some have enhanced their chest with brightly colored feathers, others stand tilted towards different angles (the clowns of the group LOL). All await in eagerness for what comes next.... will it be food, instructions, wisdom? Maybe they will all receive the same but use it differently. One never knows.
Your Scent, My Memories
The smell of you on my satin sheets will not leave.
It's as if you are stained into them.
Your scent stuck to the pillows that when I lay down
To sleep it makes dreams of you effortless.
The jacket you gave me reeks of your manly sweat
And Grizzly Mint dip.
Your cheap Axe cologne embedded into the collar
And sleeve cuffs that it intoxicates me.
A temporary high.
The memory of you and us together is etched into my mind.
No matter how hard I try they will not dissipate.
Why can't you leave me?
You haunt my being like a lost soul walking graveyards at midnight.
The memory of hot wild nights in summertime, pure wedded bliss
Without being married.
You were my prince charming and I got lost inside the
Fairytale you subjected me into.
|John Epstein: |
"We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parent, or the country of our birth. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live."”
"If you have never been hated by your child, you have never been a parent."
I am the greatest, I said that even before I knew I was.