Life is Art

There is beauty in the mundane. It is real. It is alive and it is in your face, yet sometimes we miss it all together. It’s easy to overlook the small and the so called insignificant; those everyday things we see all the time. The big picture can be looking us right in the eye, obscuring our vision as to the seemingly unimportant details. And it is in those details; intrinsic little flourishes that sit undetected in the plain open. It is that we must endeavor to see which makes the best art. 

Optimistic Sunflower and Bee. Credit N.L McKinley
Optimistic Sunflower and Bee. Credit N.L McKinley

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This art that is life. It is all around us.

 

 

 

 

Free Spirit Sara By N.L Mckinley
Free Spirit Sara By N.L McKinley

 

 

Whatever we seek in our hearts our eyes will find. Generally the experiences we have in life live up to our expectations. Life is beautiful when we can see beauty in it. Each moment is a masterpiece unto itself. A wondrous snapshot framed by time passing from the all powerful now into into the fondness of  memory.

 

 

Sky Pictures by N.L McKinley
Sky Pictures by N.L McKinley

Art engages the senses. It interests, it entertains, it delights and at times makes us think. It teaches us about ourselves and the world around us. Art makes us feel.  Art is life and life is art. It is anywhere and everywhere one looks for it. I have seen it in a flower that dare sprout in a crack in the sidewalk  and in the way the shadows of the maple leaves dance across my bedroom wall.  Art is contained  in the laughter of a friend, the optimism of a child and the smile of a stranger.

Art  dwells in the caws of the crows on a Sunday morning in May. It is the way the light shines in through the front window and straight into my eyes in the morning and just how good a cup of black coffee smells and tastes.  It’s “Ventura Highway” blaring on my neighbors radio outside and  Mario the cat sitting in the windowsill taking it all in stride.

There he is!  Mario my famous cat in all his glory.
There he is! Mario my famous cat in all his glory.

 

 

Art is the perfect toasted cheese sandwich, a cold glass of milk with a shiny red apple. Art is saying “I Love You” for the one millionth time and meaning it all the more.

It is out there just waiting to be appreciated…to be felt…to be acknowledged and embraced…to be lived.

 

Nancy

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free spirit woman colorful paint
Credit: Public Domain

 

 “Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music. Your days are your sonnets.”

~Oscar Wilde

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 Artistic Sounds ala YouTube

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Norah Jones – If I were a painter

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Starry Starry Night-Don Mclean
My Colorful Imagination. in Colored pencil by N.L McKinley
My Colorful Imagination. in Colored pencil by N.L McKinley

 

 

 

We share the same sky

Credit: SBI
Credit: SBI
The night air is hot
Heavy dark and damp
I sit by the back door of my imagination
in the green denseness of dreams
there lies a brick courtyard
that faces the western sea
The rain grows hard
and blows soft mists
across my warm face
I imagine they are your tender kisses
and a smile forms across my ruby lips
I gaze out into the abyss
straight to the deep nothings that darkness
creates from everyday
A thought from the back of my mind
comes forward
commands me to
pay attention
I can do nothing else
and the dark trees and moonlit sky
beckon me toward the light
through a meadow of wet silvery grass
there is a pool where my dreams lie
across a galaxy and  six thousand miles
waiting for the impossible
by the back door
on an idle rainy Friday
and the sky opens up
stars like tears that stain the night
the persistent moon
haunts the sky
the very same lonely sky we share
and your name lies unspoken on my lips
like a lost promise
under the warmth
of a distant sun

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©2013 copyright. N.L. McKinley

glass cosmic-explosion-1360359523BCu

 (YouTube)

ACROSS the UNIVERSE by The Beatles

Interstellar Overdrive by PINK FLOYD

TED TALK–Brian Greene: Is our universe the only universe?

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The Mad Artist

You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.” 

― Friedrich Nietzsche

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What is it that takes over one’s mind and compels them to create? Is it sickness? Or madness? What is it that runs through the long corridors of souls and haunts hearts with this need to make something where once there was nothing; be it a blank page or a white canvas…or a pile of wood…empty bandwidth or file space or…. just empty silence? Whatever the emptiness, it is the artist that yearns to fill it.

How does one fill emptiness ? I suppose there are as many different ways to create as there are individual artists. The nature of creativity is that it is centered in the new and the untried. There is always a risk to creation. It takes a lot of backbone to present ones work to be judged by the eyes of others, to be put up on display in front of the crowd…. it’s a gusty thing to do.

Art is definitely meant to be appreciated and the role of appreciator can be just as important as the artist. Art can be a group experience–community wide.  Art encourages more art…which is a beautiful thing.

L I F E   is   A R T

Art comes in endless various forms..shapes and hues.  It is a rich phenomena, experience, wonder…whatever you call it it..it is sheer delight. Art can awaken and excite the senses.

It can be exhilarating, scintillating, sensual even, but also fun and whimsical…it can also be deep and rich and sometimes sad..it is emotional and it is real. You can feel it. It is that feeling that makes it great art in whatever form.

Artists, good ones, anyway…infuse an essence of themselves into their creation; a small taste of their inner soul…the really good ones make you feel what they feel.

 

monarch-butterfly

Life is color…

It is vivid-intense, sometimes stark and sad, but a great bright and spirited thing with wings.

~N.L McKinley

sbi eyes new sepia

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” 

― Ray Bradbury

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It’s a mad compulsion, speaking here from experience. Writing is infused into me…I need to write, it is a thirst that is never quite quenched. As a shy child I spent many hours alone. Writing was my only outlet. I would pour out my feelings to paper, writing as fast as I could. I would keep everything I wrote and I never showed anyone.  Whenever I was happy or sad or confused my thoughts would go straight to paper.  I was never much for talking. I kept my feelings deeply contained inside me.

I still do write everything out. I have made the mistake in the past of publishing things perhaps I shouldn’t have. I am a sensitive sort and at times I cannot move past something without writing it out.

I can become quite testy when I don’t have a chance to write. I become like a caged animal; I pace, looking out the window. I get anxious and tense.  It is not fun to be around me at those times. I must admit I do have my dark moods but once I get at them by writing I am as free as a bird–totally unencumbered and at ease with the world.

It’s like I am a junkie who has just had a fix. I am never as happy as when I am in the middle of it all; writing away…fingers tapping, when I reach an especially engaging patch my fingers get faster and faster, the tapping gets harder and louder. When I am going at full tilt it is total ecstasy!

That is my personal madness and I claim it as my own. Are you a bit mad? Do you engage in a creative endeavor that demands your engagement? Tell me about your madness and we can compare notes.

Have a fantastic day full of loveliness,

Strawberryindigo.

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“You have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame permanently aglow in your subtle spine

Vladimir Nabokov

van gogh self-portrait-with-bandaged-ear-1889-1.jpg!Blog

Famous Artists a to z

(biography.com)

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 A brief history of mental illness in art (scientificamerican.com)

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Artist Paints by Snorting Colors Then Crying Them Onto a Canvas (newsfeed.time.com)

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