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art ~ abstract

#abstract

#abstract #art #watercolour #concrete #acrylic #canvas #expressions #photoblog #photograph #photography #kpm©

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Racist murders, Black corpses, White entitlement.

Excerpt: “What are we doing when we do something and call it art? There are as many answers to this question as there are people who will ever live. We might reduce art to a statement, just as the words I write or say create a shared experience between me and my readers/hearers. Art arises from the mind of the artist and then creates an experience in the mind of those that engage it. Dana Schulz’s painting of Emmett Till’s mutilated corpse has created revulsion and horror. I will here explore my own horror and revulsion.”

Source: Racist murders, Black corpses, White entitlement.

For More on this go to https://thenegrosubversive.com/

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photography ~ black & whites #4

black & whites #4

#black&whites #monochrome #tree #roots #beach #love #nature #photograph #photoblog #photography #kpm©

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photography ~ black & whites #3

black & whites #3

#black&whites #beach #tree #roots #sand #shift #ripples #macro #photoblog #photograph #photography #kpm©

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photography ~ black & whites #2

black & whites #2

#photograph #photography #photoblog #monochrome #filtered #art #olivetree #shadow #kpm©

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photography ~ black & whites #1

black & whites #1

#photograph #photography #photoblog #monochrome #macro #filtered #art #hinge #view #kpm©

mauri of me #13 ~ art

I like to paint with black, red and white.

Sometimes, deep dark blue.

I prefer my reds to be bright, blood red. Glossy.

Everything else – matte.

I love working with my hands,

and raging against the canvas.

I prefer abstract,

because thats my normal view,

of this strange, distorted world.

I don’t understand pretty painted flowers and

life like birds.

I can take a photograph of that.

But i can appreciate someone elses beauty in it.

I just don’t understand it.

I love the art of:

Colin McCahon,

and Ralph Hotere.

Those I get.

I love large canvas …

as big as the walls, large.

I can make a huge old fucked up mess

on those.

I love words.

My words are blunt.

In my art, that is.

Ok, everywhere.

I don’t like to hide away meaning.

I prefer that my intention slaps you right in the

mooch.

My art – my painting

lets me release

what i cannot

sometimes

all the time

oft times

….

explain.

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dreams, paint & a late response to a request

It’s not that I forget that they diagnosed pts(d). Not at all. It’s just that sometimes I get a taste of ‘normality’ – very loose definition of – and I just enjoy rolling with it.

And then something happens … usually in my dreams.

And I am viciously catapulted back to ‘reality’ – also loosely defined as such.

The latest catapult came the other night. After another one of those dreams.

Where I am Big, as in, an adult body.

I can’t move. I can’t speak. And when I try to scream, not much more than a whisper, comes out.

So again, I am lying, naked, trying to scream; sticky clammy hands running all over my body … trying to move them away, with my body, with my mind … mouth wide open, in an enraged, violated scream.

And nothing is coming out.

My partner woke me from this dream. He says it was going on for a long time and I wouldn’t wake up.

He’d placed his hand on my head and was speaking quietly and calmly to me; a. so I didn’t hit him; b. so I wouldn’t get a fright.

It seemed to work.

I woke feeling angry, scared, frustrated, violated …

I’m hoping the return of this dream means I am ‘working it out’ somehow; and will come to another ‘ah-huh’ – moment whereby something registers in my being – something is put to rest … I hope.

…..

And then I remembered these:

I told Johanna that I’d post pictures of them for her, when the exhibition came down. I was abit late.

But what has become of this piece; is I have given my permission for it to travel to Australia in May, with a woman who is speaking at a conference on working with women who have experienced violence / sexual violence. Some of the other art that was in the exhibition will be making the trip with her too.

I figure assisting those that assist others is a good a reason as any to have my insides on display.

I also figure with every step, or every dream, that feels like a step backwards … there is a multitude of forward strides that are taken, as Me and people like Me, Respond.

art and ptsd bullshit

I been so busy being all PTSD and shit at the moment  ; I forgot about the art thingy I’ve been trying to get to.

Yes, I stepped out of my little comfort zone and decided to try be all sociable and shit … but with something not so threatening.

This art thingy isn’t ‘art therapy’ as such … its more like a bunch of peeps that have had some fucked up shit to deal with, coming together and ‘responding’ … in a nutshell.

My kind of art really 🙂

And yah ME for even thinking about it and attempting it … (not to forget the positive …. I wish I had a “rolling your eyeballs” emoji on this thing … it would be used right …… here!)

Anyway … I had the epic panic attack and associated hissy fit when I attempted to get to the place to meet the coordinator and see the studio!! Pissed me right off!!

And is usually the case…I’m having a little difficulty coming back from that one and trying again!!!

And that fucks me off too!

I fucken hate being afraid … I fucken hate anxiety and panic … I fucken hate P T S fucken D.

I fucken hate it all.

(btw … I will do it eventually … its not in my nature to lay down and die … but today is one of those fucken days grrrr)

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365 reasons to smile ~ 81.

81. Art.
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