Holes

Whipped to

Latent

Eyes

Shuffling

In

Feathered holes.

 

Crossed beyond

The point

Of

Whispering

Clocks

Taking the

Place of

Nights gone

Placid.

 

Absence

A face I

Can’t

Delve into,

Record needle

Taken off.

 

Fallen night,

Wound up in

Mirrors,

Smoky remembrance

Percolating…

 

Promulgated fear,

Sentenced to the

Torrid

Isolation.

 

Formulation of

Persona,

Absence in

Understanding

Of what

Takes an

Eternity

To

Recall…

 

Night Rider

Here is a painting I did at art camp years ago in NJ.  It’s called “Night Rider.”  It was inspired by my love for riding horses.  I used to ride in the English style at a place called Seaton Hackney Stables with my Mom when I was little.  I set it at night because there is something so serene and quiet about being out in the nighttime world.  It hangs in my Grandpa Schott’s house in NJ.  He is a treasured being, having spent his life being an inventor at Bell Labs and still life painter on the side.  He always has helped me out with my various art projects.  I used acrylic paints for this piece.  I love what a brush dipped in color can bring to the world.  Fanciful musings on canvas.  Art is love, beauty, and prayer for our souls.  Have a blessed weekend fellow artists!