Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Bow&The Arrow. It Canby. Peeling Lightening/Titan Struggle


My Dad is a bow hunter, a traditional hunter his bow and his arrow are of the olden times. He has several bows they hang beautifully in the room just down the way from me. He practices in the backyard. I love the bow and arrow. When talking about artwork and the effect I want it to have on my target audience I explain and see it in my head as a arrows tip. The farthest reaching point of the arrows tip is only a small percentage of the entirety of the arrow. I don't know if my comparison stands true when thinking of the arrow penetrating wild game. I am trying to say that art and the impact of art is as a arrows head, the farthest reaching results of the blade in also the smallest percentage. It is a very hard thing to strike your audience in the heart, and the weapon is fashioned so that few feel the edges cut.


I wrote a journal entry at the begin of this month about my trip back to Canby. Canby, Oregon just outside Portland, Oregon home to my heart because it first loved me. It had been seven months since I had seen Canby, since I had seen its people who I love so very much. I am not sure how to describe my trip, other than that in my journal I wrote, ' it was a God appointed trip'. On the side note of not wanting to leave anyone void of understanding, I described it as a God appointed trip because large influential things occurred inside of my family and in my friends. The entire atmosphere of the weekend felt as though there was a large and powerful wave of water wanting to crash down upon everyone. It was my joy in that moment to be so close to my Grandparents as they received calls about their Daughter in law and my aunt going into a coma. It was in these moments as a wave of emotion wanted to crash upon everyone to pull us up from our sure ground and undertow us to a place in life where all surety is lost. Instead, I was able to take the hand of my Grandfather and Grandmother and along with my friend Mahlory my Grandfather prayed for Penny my aunt. Life is made up of appointed times, where the answers come to us by Grace and our praise is delivered out of thankfulness. Penny is in recovery and no longer in the coma. In years to come, I will think about grabbing onto and holding my Grandfather's hand as the wave came to threaten our footing from surety. 

A dinosaur fighting a bear with lightening bolts peeling off and away from their clashing titan struggle. My goal in writing all this was to tell you that I am still terribly fascinated by dinosaurs right now, so that is what I want to paint.



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