Whipped to
Latent
Eyes
Shuffling
In
Feathered holes.
Crossed beyond
The point
Of
Whispering
Clocks
Taking the
Place of
Nights gone
Placid.
Whipped to
Latent
Eyes
Shuffling
In
Feathered holes.
Crossed beyond
The point
Of
Whispering
Clocks
Taking the
Place of
Nights gone
Placid.
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…
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!
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