Thursday, 24 December 2009
The old cemetery
One night we were lucky enough to see a star being shot like an arrow from the bow constellation,
I love how the frost frames each leaves winter colour.
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
The singing whale. In the days of wooden sailing ships seamen were often treated to song recitals of humpback whales amplified through the hulls of their vessels. Then steam and diesel engines drowned out the whales song until only a few yachtsmen knew of it. Their songs are a long plaintive melody, stretching from high and low notes, repeated in sequences that vary widely with the singer. They may be seven minutes long, or 30, and sometimes different songs are worked into performances lasting for hours. The whale may repeat the same song over and over with minor variations.
-Jacques Cousteau
Acrylic and Ink on chunky found wood
Open Steppe
After reading about the nomadic gypsies of the steppes I wanted to make a painting. A little extract from the book free spirits of the open steppe, people without frontiers
The town was in the middle of the steppes, and at night the only light came from the campfires of the gypsies. Nowadays there are very few areas of the steppe that have not been plowed up. But anyone who has traveled across its desolate expanses knows how deceptive the horizon can be there-how it fades into infinity just as you think you are getting closer to it, how heaven and earth become a huge sphere, and the human being shrinks to a tiny speck in the universe.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Thursday, 3 December 2009
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