life

So Much More 

Music related artwork

In memory of a person well loved the world over: a celebrity of grandeur most dream to become; a son, brother, father and husband; surely a friend to so many more. A person- so much more.

David Bowie was in the news yesterday morning, sadly because of his passing on from this world we call ours. “Peacefully,” I’d read and hoped– for what more can we ask for when remembering those admired and loved?

So much more:

I’d learned about Bowie’s passing in a newsletter and thought it is a great loss in music history besides a life of historical moments. Just the day before I’d picked up my piece of artwork, which was included in the exhibition “Celebrity” at ConArtist Gallery. Consequently it’s a portrait I’d painted of David Bowie. I was so glad to have it back, I was telling my friend about it. I was thinking that as much as we treasure our work as Artists, it’s often difficult to let them go. Art takes time, effort, inspiration, financial setbacks even- and so much more.

Well, I know life has a lot more meaning than materials. 

David Bowie was and always will be remembered as a work of Art- in and of himself. His music lives through the unique sound of his voice and forever classic tracks. The style in Bowie’s fashion choices as most people know, were just as uniquely expressed. I wasn’t among those fortunate to have viewed the recent exhibitions built around all the public details of his life- yet I’m proud to say it’s been an honor to be a fan since Bowie’s start with celebrity. Yes.       I consider myself to have been a privileged child back then. 

Mr. Bowie fit right in if not declared a misfit of the times. To many, he stood out appropriately enough to be noticed- and very well so. As I recall, these ears were in sound training most of my waking hours and I don’t regret much of it when it pertains to music. Still, Bowie carried himself with so much more! 

I know. Life is funny. It’s got a way with making us fall and breaking it; taking our breaths away at the most incredible moments and still, (you know the rest). Such is Life…and Art- the mirror upon which lies its reflection.

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Art Is…Inspiring; therapeutic; time consuming; full of effort; expressive; Meaningful- and of course: Full of LIFE! 

The Art that is Bowie and all he produced is all that and so much more. Art such as his, LIVES. In effect, so does he. 

Rest in Peace, Mr. Bowie. Rest assured that I’ll be “swaying to the sound” for as long as I can.

Until next time- May we cherish how we express ourselves- historically.

Thanks for visiting.

Adriana 

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What Is Art in this So called Post-Painting, Post-Post Modern Time? A Thousand Words

Arts discussion

Hello readers and lovers of the Arts!

Today I ponder the question proposed by someone with regard to the meaning of how as Artists, we perceive this so-called Post painting, Post-Post Modern time period. How, in other words (or forms for that matter) do we express artistically what that means to us? My curiosity usually leads to research. In it I found more elusive definitions than I’d hoped for.

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TIME is of the ESSENCE

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Recently, I read a newsletter which provokes the very heart of anyone into being stirred. In essence, it is a subject most anyone can relate to- that of loss, grieving and going through the stages that eventually allow us to find peace. I won’t refer to it for privacy of the writer and wish it serves as comfort through this difficult time. In this writing, I don’t intend for it to overpower that eloquent writer’s story of discovery. Nor do I wish it to be a somber excerpt of the correspondence I subscribe to, but a view of my own on the subject. I would hope that in the least, it extends warm thoughts and peace to those who understand and need it.

When I was a very young girl, I experienced the first loss in one I loved so dearly, my maternal Grandmother, Zoila. To me she represented as much as my Mom if not more for so many additional reasons we find in loving grandparents. They seem to have that much more when anxious thrill is felt at the thought of seeing them, hugging, talking or merely playing. I particularly loved exploring her facial features, looking into her eyes as she admiringly smiled back with them. They were beautiful, light brown eyes with a twinkle I’d hope to never forget. Her cheeks were full and rounded out more in her big warm smiles. That’s how I gave her a nickname: “carita de manzana” – (little apple face). Oh how I loved to smoosh her face between my hands and gently yank on those cheeks! I guess she appeared as a doll to me, since she was a jolly playtime pal to us all. What’s funny is, each of us (all eight) of her grandchildren, thought somehow that our grandma was all ours- exclusively ours! I mean, I thought I was her favorite and so did all my siblings. Nowadays we’ll still recall moments to try proving that to each other and it’s splendid to know she had infinite love for everyone. Enough love, you ask? No. Love is never enough unless it is both given and received. Grandma had more than enough. This is where the word essence comes into play. Read on…

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