Some time ago I had a try at capturing my admirable co-worker Amanda M. (Feel free to peruse the other 1500 entries in this blog to find it.) As the months passed my portrait attempt looked more and more like a misfire. Finally I couldn’t stand it any more and asked Amanda if I might try again. She was kind; I took another pic of her; I tried again with the result above, which is an attempt at Making Amanda Amends for that last botched effort.
I wouldn’t call this one successful, but it is less unsuccessful. The lighting is less harsh. The likeness is a half bubble off, but that is because I tried TOO hard and overworked it, so the heart is there.
Making Amanda Amends
Meet her & gain a fine sense of euphoria
Add Work-Commingling in with your Sensorium
Know a Professional Waldorf-Astoroia–be
Into the work tho the noise is stentorian
Nothing wrong with admiration if you understand
Gaining a new friend–a happy supplement to plans
Hello. Note the time, please.
Note the time, please. May God be with you.
These are two birds I sculpted yesterday.
And here are some lines sculpted by Neil Young long ago, for his song “Birds”:
Lover, there will be another one
Who’ll hover over you beneath the Sun
Tomorrow, see the things that never come
It is an oblique, haunting song about separation. In the subtext is the notion that the one being abandoned will be, ultimately, better off. The phrase “It’s over” occurs four times.
I wasn’t thinking of “Birds” when I did these, but it occurs to me that these two may be best off as friends.
Apologies to Yo Yo Ma. Sir, one of my self-imposed rules for my “n.e.s.” series is to draw it without looking at any photo source. Some day I hope to do a portrait of you that is worthy of you.
Rules are not made to be broken. They are made to be kept. Nevertheless they are broken. The breakers of the rules are scofflaws and/or the new rulemakers.
Rapt, she Sang to Pass the Path.
Raptors Sanguine. Passive Empaths.
Don’t pry Mary, nor suck on Dairy, saith the Pundick.
Some of us don’t play games so much as they play us.
May your games be fun for all, my Friends.
“In medias res” is Latin for “In the middle of things.” If the movie you’re watching starts with a guy falling toward the ground without a parachute, apparently to his doom, and he’s wearing a tutu and has explosives strapped to him, the moviemakers have put you in medias res without a paddle.
I suddenly find that my 1500th blog post is here. Often on even-hundreds posts I will have some theme: #100 was about my daughter Kate, #600 was about Gratitude, etc. This time round I had my enigmatic “n.e.s.” series going, and though I have high hopes for some worthwhile things occurring in many of the 480 segments, the series is really more preparatory than valedictory. I hope by its end to have the chops to launch some sequential art–either a graphic novel or a continuing comic book–with no hint of “Amateur Night” to it. And I will mine the segments for themes, dialogue, and layouts.
Meanwhile, we are in medias res with segment #21 of 480…
“Words, words, words.” Hamlet, scornfully
Further, Deponent saith not.