Winged for Art Therapy

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Thursday, February 7, 2008

Blanket of Forever

My deceased parents were like air-blown kisses Intractable and illuminating, Lingering in my mind, daring me to look into the starlight, And wish... And wish...again on each tiny photographic jewels, stars of ruse and chunks of coal, All woven into my family's Blanket of Forever. "We'll both be... Sign in to see full entry.

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Mamma, Mamma, Don't Cry

I wrote this poem after my mom died: Mamma, Mamma, Don't cry, Lucky for us, we've been born again, From rich moist clay and strewn love Each sand particle together mixed, Sweet waltzes in a time Gone-by, Dancing with vulnerable glass quarried limbs, Blind Mocking eyes cold as stone, Mamma, Mamma,... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 2:00 PM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Contemplation

Left to right: Death is coming for all of us You can duck or run, or... You can duck and hide... or you can sit and contemplate the here and now. Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:50 AM | add or view comments (3) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Contemplation

It is a dark night of the soul that brings us to find a healing path. I never knew pain until my mom died. A lot of imagery pops up in my mind surrounding death and dying. I never really though about death and dying before. This is how I use my photobooks. I choose objects on which to focus my mind,... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:40 AM | add or view comments (1) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Diving in the Suds

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Birth of Passion

Most of us uses our imagination because - it feels good and it brings us joy. Our imagination can inspire us spiritually, mirror our secret thoughts and embody our many emotions. It can give us a hug when we need it. Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 12:53 AM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

When I was a child...

When digging around in my memories for something to write about, I remember stories mom and pops liked to tell me about my childhood. One of my favorites was when I was a toddler. They told me I often threw my glass baby bottles at the one luxury pops had bought for us, the newly invented black and... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 8:56 AM | add or view comments (6) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

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posted by Winged at 8:22 AM | add or view comments (0) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

The passion unleashed when Mother and Daughter are too close for comfort.

There is something almost holy and mystical about the relationship between mothers and daughters. We don't always see eye-to-eye when we're too close for comfort. My own mom died over ten years ago and it seems like yesterday. Mom and I lost and found each other...over and over during my prime... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 11:03 AM | add or view comments (2) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

Saturday, February 2, 2008

Photo of Sculpture I call Passion accompany I am many:

As an artist I will admit there were unfortunate moments in my intensity, when crippling insecurities left me limp and passion-free. When I'm busy doing something I love, there was progress to my spirit. Keeping busy always put me in a better mood. I am many and many of me are not the fairest to... Sign in to see full entry.

posted by Winged at 2:04 PM | add or view comments (5) | leave calling card | link to this | view only this entry

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About this Blog

I am many, a ceramic artist, a poet and a wanderer. Give yourself a hug by looking for my book, Sculpting the Heart, to be in print soon; or in the meantime, check out The Soul's Palette, written by Cathy Malchiodi, leading authority at TLC, National Institute for Trauma and Loss in Children on Art Therapy

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