Thursday, May 29, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Last Friday I downloaded Apophysis to make fractal flame designs, but couldn't figure out how to export the animations, so I went surfing for info or other programs to help me. I still haven't figured it out, but I found GIMP, which is a free photo editing program with some animation capabilities. Below is a link to my first project in GIMP. It was supposed to be for Illustration Friday's Electricity, but I didn't finish in time.
Does anybody know how to upload this kind of file to blogger? I've seen other bloggers who have done it, but I can't remember where.
Below are some flames made with Apophysis. I think the first one looks like an angry flying insect.
Same image, different colors. I love playing with color. I think this one looks like a butterfly with golden rings.
This last one started in Apophysis, then went to GIMP, and was finished in Photoshop.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
My post, "Life in the Sign Business" is in the 16th issue of BluePrintReview, which has just been released. Here's a letter from the editor:
a thief's trilogy and a discovered entry in a blog, that's what induced the theme for this issue - an issue that developed like a journey, went On Some Road, where it met Nomads Like Us, circled in a spot of Black and White, got Lost at Sea, went through bitter days, and eventually was Learning to Swim.
now it reached the point of completion, and is out there in space, its open pages waiting to be found.
blueprintreview #16 - lost, found & stolen
as so often, the process of putting the issue together revealed unexpected connections between the submitted texts and images - the same shapes in different photos, counterparting paragraphs in different stories. returning topics: the loss, not of things, but of one's way. the slow speed of time, ashen and sunfilled. the bolting spin of days.
it's always a bit of an adventure, to see how an issue turns out - you can't really plan it, and that's the beauty of it.
here the issue link: www.blueprintreview.de
but this lost, found and stolen journey isn't ending. just a moment, the blog that is connected to the blueprintreview, is continuing the theme. a first post is up there already - Forgotten - together with an invitation to join, and a note on the coming issue. here the link: just a moment - blog
enjoy the lost, found and stolen pages ~
and thanks so much for being part of this journey.
Posted by bluerose at 3:58 PM
Again, I find myself sitting on Anemone's front porch tired and aching. I rub the swollen joints of my hands without thinking. I'd probably never notice that I do this if it wasn't for the fact that so many people point it out to me, like Anemone does now as she walks out from behind her beaded curtain carrying a bowl of fresh cut fruits and vegetables, and two glasses of homemade pineapple green drink. It's evening this time. The ocean breeze is cooler than the first visit, and is carrying with it the scent of something sweet smelling growing up the hill from us. The sinking sun on our right is casting crimson sparks on the waves as they break.
"Take a deep breath," she instructs me. "Breathe in the energy of this ocean breeze, and then exhale your anxiety through your feet. Find your ground."
This sounds so familiar to me. I do as she instructs, and then timidly ask, "What do you see when you look at me?" I remember a time when I used to look at my past with harsh criticism. Instead, a familiar faded smile lightens her face as she takes another sip of the green nectar, and then she invites me to see for myself.
Through her eyes, I see a place very different from the one where we're sitting. A land rich in diversity, from rocky rolling hills thriving with thorny mesquite and prickly pear to muggy muddy woodlands densely lush and green. Far away on the horizon is the ocean. On one of the hills, water is bubbling up from the ground, and trickling down in all directions. Most of these tiny streams, though, are being channeled into a well eroded ditch that leads to a concrete retention pond where the water stagnates and evaporates.
"This is the watershed you're at in your life right now." She explains. "You're tottering on the edge where streams of energy still flow behind you as it always has in the past, and some are starting to flow before you to create new rivers and streams. Because they tend to travel the path of least resistance, you're struggling to move forward. The path behind you is well worn, but you've made it through the hardest part. You made it up the hill, against the current, to get here. Now you try to force the streams to change their directions by forcing yourself to move forward and hoping they will follow. You have already begun to damn up the old streams that you no longer wish your energy to travel, but now you need to gently guide them to move in the direction you wish to go, and then you will follow."
Back on Anemone's patio, I sit silently contemplating. She leans over to light one of the candles that still has some life in it, and then picks up our empty dishes to carry them back inside. When she returns, she is carrying cupped in her hands a light that takes the form of dolphins. She hands them to me, and as I take hold, she gently pushes my hands toward my heart. When I touch my chest, the light disappears.
"The ones closest to you right now, don't understand you." The gentleness in her voice eases my tension. "They don't understand why you don't just pick yourself up and move forward. Be patient with them and yourself." She stresses the latter. "In your dreams dolphins represent your spiritual energy. The gift I have given you is to remind you to feed them first, then your streams will change direction and take you where you need to go."
I want to thank her, but don't know how. She hugs me, and I realize that she already knows.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
I wish I could be angry with you.
Your judgemental platitudes
Reveal self righteous attitudes
Beneath the benevolence you issue.
But, your molten shards so foolishly spew
From flows brittle with over use.
The scorching ignorance of it's misuse
Obstructs the steam that will surely ensue.
So, the watery depths scream in agony,
Pockets of empathy hiss under the pressure,
Cavern walls moan with self censure,
And fissures weep harsh judgements of the autonomy
That determine the fault line lies within,
And then punish the weakness rather than mend.