A piece of my artwork was just published in this NW Creative Arts Magazine!! For The Haute Halloween Edition, page 23, very excited!!! But please, it is for adult mature eyes Thank Craig Solomon for all your hard work you put into this zine!! You can buy the digital form or the whole magazine here >>http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/819654 You can also submit your art in the next upcoming issue here >>http://www.nwc.fixfoto.com/
The challenge for this week"
January 12, 2007
In 1903, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke responded by letter to a young man seeking his advice. Rilke eventually wrote ten letters now collectively known and much published as "Letters to a Young Poet." They are heartfelt advice from a successful (but still struggling) artist to another who was deeply mired in self-doubt. The classic language of these letters soars in beauty as well as lofty good sense. His idealism is applicable today to all who might pursue any sort of creative activity. Yesterday, on a pathside bench deep in a blustery, storm-destroyed forest, I reread the letters. Here, partly in direct quotation and partly in condensed summation, are some of Rilke's ideas:
Your work needs to be independent of others' work.
You must not compare yourself to others.
No one can help you.
You have to help yourself.
Criticism leads to misunderstandings and defeatism.
Work from necessity and your compulsion to do it.
Work on what you know and what you are sure you love.
Don't observe yourself too closely, just let it happen.
Don't let yourself be controlled by too much irony.
Live in and love the activity of your work.
Be free of thoughts of sin, guilt and misgiving.
Be touched by the beautiful anxiety of life.
Be patient with the unresolved in your heart.
Try to be in love with the questions themselves.
Love your solitude and try to sing with its pain.
Be gentle to all of those who stay behind.
Your inner self is worth your entire concentration.
Allow your art to make extraordinary demands on you.
Bear your sadness with greater trust than your joy.
Do not persecute yourself with how things are going.
It's good to be solitary, because solitude is difficult.
It's good to love, because love is difficult.
You are not a prisoner of anything or anyone.
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926) was born in Czechoslovakia and died in Switzerland. Dogged by fragile health and the constant search for inexpensive and healthful accommodation, he anxiously moved from one climate to another. Considered the greatest modern poet in the German language, Rilke counselled the young poet, known only as Mr. Kappus, over a five-year period. No evidence exists that they ever met.
Best regards, Robert
PS: "Being an artist means not numbering or counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn't force its sap, standing confidently in storms, not afraid that summer may not come." (Rainer Maria Rilke)Esoterica: Two main themes--trust and patience--pervade Rilke's letters. "Always trust yourself and your own feelings, as opposed to arguments and discussions," he says. "If it turns out that you are wrong, then the natural growth of your inner life will eventually guide you to other insights. Allow your judgments a silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this is what it means to live as an artist."
See more writings of the Painters Keys.... http://www.painterskeys.com
70 degrees today, I do not believe I will ever get used to this desert~ it's a love hate thing. Friday the high will be 34
I really despise those railings, I think I will change them to ornate iron...yes?
and yes I know.... I need to clean the pool, we had a windstorm a few nights ago ;)
Through sunlit day and starry night
A soft breeze lifts a leaf to flight
In midst of wildflowers a maiden sleeps
Her beauty doth make man to weep
A handsome knight with golden eyes
Holds vigil under cloudless skies
To keep the damsel from harms way
While in sweet repose she lay
Unknown to him he fills her dreams
Of walking hand in hand by silver streams
And as day's lamp shines from above
He sings to her his songs of love
Ophelia by Arthur Rimbaud
On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping
White Ophelia floats like a great lily;
Floats very slowly, lying in her long veils...
In the far-off woods you can hear them sound the mort.
For more than a thousand years sad Ophelia
Has passed, a white phantom, down the long black river.
For more than a thousand years her sweet madness
Has murmured its ballad to the evening breeze.
The wind kisses her breasts and unfolds in a wreath
Her great veils rising and falling with the waters;
The shivering willows weep on her shoulder,
The rushes lean over her wide, dreaming brow.
The ruffled water-lilies are sighing around her;
At times she rouses, in a slumbering alder,
Some nest from which escapes a small rustle of wings;
A mysterious anthem falls from the golden stars.
O pale Ophelia! beautiful as snow!
Yes child, you died, carried off by a river!
It was the winds descending from the great mountains of Norway
That spoke to you in low voices of better freedom.
It was a breath of wind, that, twisting your great hair,
Brought strange rumors to your dreaming mind;
It was your heart listening to the song of Nature
In the groans of the tree and the sighs of the nights;
It was the voice of mad seas, the great roar,
That shattered your child's heart, too human and too soft;
It was a handsome pale knight, a poor madman
Who one April morning sate mute at your knees!
Heaven! Love! Freedom! What a dream, oh poor crazed Girl!
You melted to him as snow does to a fire;
Your great visions strangled your words
And fearful Infinity terrified your blue eye!
And the poet says that by starlight
You come seeking, in the night, the flowers that you picked
And that he has seen on the water, lying in her long veils
White Ophelia floating, like a great lily.
~forwarded to me, by my friend Pilar
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
Hamlet Prince of Denmark
Act IV Scene VII
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals all up in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the deathbed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
photo by Darren Holmes www.darrenholmes.com/
Thank you for your inspirations, thank you for your encouraging words, thank you for sharing bits of your life, you will be missed by many. I hope someday you will come back to share again~
"Blessed is the man who fears the Lord"....continued in Psalms: 112
Happiness depends on more than years.
All one's moments gather to a wave
Passing in a rolling swell of tears,
Passions too immense to name or save.
Yet New Year's is a crest on which to sing,
Now poised between the future and the past.
Each awaits what course the fates may bring,
Winds that never touch the things that last.
Years turn and turn with an hypnotic grace
Even as the depths of life lie still.
Although above one cannot silence face,
Remember that below the divers will.
1. Toshiba laptop
2. Beeswax lipbalm
3. Art from Sombra~
4. Art from Gillian (bohemiart)
5. Paperwhimsy art doll from JoAnnA
6. Date planner
7. Vintage cigar box full of pens & pencils
8. Books (bible, 1000 places to see before you die, others)
9. Vintage lamp
9 Favourite Songs:
1. Lithium~ by Evanescence
2. Your star~ by Evanscence
3. Over~ by Evans Blue
4. Cry to angels~ by Idiom of Sad
5. I want a faith like that~ by Jonah 33
6. Hate me ~by Blue October
7. Nice, Niave & Beautiful~ by Plumb
8. Flood~ by Jars of Clay
9. Something I can never have~ by Nine Inch Nails
8 Favourite Sweet Snacks:
2. Dark chocolate
3. Vanilla bean ice cream
4. I don't eat that much sweets ;)
7 Favourite Recording Artists:
1. Amy Lee (Evanscence)
2. Devi Gottschlich (Idiom of Sad)
3. Crystal Lewis
5. Stevie Nicks
6. Julio Iglesias
7. Plácido Domingo
6 People I Talk to the Most:
1. my kids
5. by email~ my art friends
5 Websites I Visit Daily:
1. Sombra http://sombraknight.blogspot.com/
2. Misty Mawn http://www.mistymawn.typepad.com/
3. Yahoo to check emails
4. My space
5. Indie 911
4 Goals for 2007
1. Spend more time on my art, than wanderlusting blogs & others' art ;)
2. Create a REAL art studio, not my dining room table
3. Donate more art for charities this year
4. Have fun!
3 Favourite Quotes:
1. "Happiness resides not in posessions and not in gold; the feeling of happiness dwells in the
2. "Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake." ~Henry David Thoreau
3. “You were once wild here. Don't let them tame you.” ~Isadora Duncan
2 Favourite Movies of all time:
1. Chronicles Of Narnia
2. Dr. Zhivago
Favorite Inspirational Person
1. God (not literally, person. Inspirational)
Supposed to tag 5 people, but I will just tag whomever would like to join in~
I grow so weary, someway, of all things
That love and loving have vouchsafed to me,
Since now all dreamed-of sweets of ecstasy
Am I possessed of: The caress that clings—
The lips that mix with mine with murmurings
No language may interpret, and the free,
Unfettered brood of kisses, hungrily
Feasting in swarms on honeyed blossomings
Of passion's fullest flower—For yet I miss
The essence that alone makes love divine—
The subtle flavoring no tang of this
Weak wine of melody may here define:—
A something found and lost in the first kiss
A lover ever poured through lips of mine.
James Whitcomb Riley
The Lost Thrill
Merry Christmas my sweet friends~
I wish one day to be able to give each one of you, big velvet hugs & sparkly kisses~
Thank you so much for being there listening to my ramblings. I appreciate all your wonderful words of inspiration & encouragement throughout this last year, it has uplifted me, at times when I needed it the most, made me feel as if I could fly. It's beyond words how you can care for friends so much, not ever having the chance to meet face to face, it's definately a spiritual bond~
I pray for blessings to be poured upon you & your families this Christmas & the coming New Year~
Merry Christmas!! xo ~Bella
what I am reading~ "1000 places to see before you die" a travelers life list~
at amazon http://tinyurl.com/yh62td
these are just a few of the places that I would like to visit someday~
travel to "Soul of the Garden" Tom Spencer