It was HER turn to view this baffling example of surrealist art, positioning herself slap-bang ON PURPOSE square in front of it in an effort to 'get' it. She shot the man shuffling up to HER pitch a sideways go-away stare: heck, it was HER turn. And if she was ever going to make sense of this painting, she was going to be a while...
He looks at a blank space, like the aging grey wood slats below his feet or the brilliant white bow of the yacht tethered across from him, and see only a full palette.
He has a lifetime’s worth of love, a full heart of poetry, ready to spill onto any canvas with vibrant splashes of cerulean ocean, or a tempest of crimson and cadmium yellow. A canvas that would be lauded for the technical palette knife cuts layers onto softened brush strokes.
He curls into himself more. They don’t realize that he still dreams in technicolor.
The tiny people at the family table with all the cousins, aunts, uncles and the kids, meet after a decade to celebrate the reunion alongside judgmental conversations about how they drifted away only to gather at the Last Supper table.
I jumped off the conveyor belt just in time. No one in this town was real to begin with. Now they’re building more machines to talk to other machines. My shouting in the street disturbs them. Funny.
From the Art institute of Chicago selection, top right--two characters staring at a painting, one centered.
Jane stared at the painting. Her friend brought her here to help spend the time since she was laid off. It was supposed to be a fun, friendly diversion in between the stress of resume writing and interviews--Jane liked art but didn't expect the painting to *grab her* in this way. Her friend started moving away to look at the next painting, but Jane just couldn't let go.
I’ll pick the super “Dad Duties” since some say that a lot of writing is autobiographical..
This guy has just dropped off his other magical daughter at the community school. The little one is already tired from playing with and chasing around the big kids at the bus loop. This is usually the time that she asks for a ride on his “shurdles” (the last remaining word of her amazing baby talk) He is off to the pre-school where she has been since before she can remember. The day is just getting started and there is more to come❤️
A Dad's shoulders are large enough, so his responsibilities and so their weight. A Mother fairy came to ease that pain. To make him believe that we can share the burden and their weight.
Having arrived in SF many years ago with his newly minted associates degree in IT Sciences, he now took it as an omen, or a curse the sidewalk graffiti off of Folsom he passed everyday to support the Hedge Fund's infrastructure: " San Francisco Sanctuary City for the Rich" Sometimes it made him laugh. Sometimes it made him think. He never believed it until the hateful day in which Market Demands down sized him, made him small, tiny. Here on the wharf lost in the wind and the waves he begins to remember how big he really is.
(bottom right) Carl, who was dressing up as his recent idol Andy Warhol, found a picture empty enough to imagine his portrait onto it. "One day", he thought. Vic Vega beside him was distracted still thinking about the deal with Van Goghs ear. "Yeah I like that guy"
The crowd gathered and formed a line as they wait to sign the guest book. All of them are familiar with the new couple, but not with each other. Fractions of casual conversations can be heard as the cacophony of stories create a cheerful buzz in the hall.
Why stay ashore? Why not step off the pier strapped to a potato sack of sand? His life was tragic, yes, often despairing. But he maintained that it is an astonishment to be alive, and he was duty-bound to be astonished.
Wedding reception: middle row, far right. There weren't enough drinks in the reception hall to help her survive the stories of their Ivy-bound offspring. It's not that she wasn't happy for them, it was the grief of knowing that it would be 5-7 years before she could even hug her son again. Or, perhaps, the quiet judgment she felt from these parents who'd been able to protect their children from the consequences of adolescent lapses in judgment.
I'm tired of this life I live. If only people knew how bad it was out here. I'm a good person. I shouldn't be here. How long before I get help? God please help me!
Art Institute of Chicago: bottom right.
It was HER turn to view this baffling example of surrealist art, positioning herself slap-bang ON PURPOSE square in front of it in an effort to 'get' it. She shot the man shuffling up to HER pitch a sideways go-away stare: heck, it was HER turn. And if she was ever going to make sense of this painting, she was going to be a while...
(Top left, the pier):
He looks at a blank space, like the aging grey wood slats below his feet or the brilliant white bow of the yacht tethered across from him, and see only a full palette.
He has a lifetime’s worth of love, a full heart of poetry, ready to spill onto any canvas with vibrant splashes of cerulean ocean, or a tempest of crimson and cadmium yellow. A canvas that would be lauded for the technical palette knife cuts layers onto softened brush strokes.
He curls into himself more. They don’t realize that he still dreams in technicolor.
Bryn, this is so beautiful!
Thank you!! 🥰
The tiny people at the family table with all the cousins, aunts, uncles and the kids, meet after a decade to celebrate the reunion alongside judgmental conversations about how they drifted away only to gather at the Last Supper table.
Homeless Man
I jumped off the conveyor belt just in time. No one in this town was real to begin with. Now they’re building more machines to talk to other machines. My shouting in the street disturbs them. Funny.
This is a GREAT idea and I love it!
From the Art institute of Chicago selection, top right--two characters staring at a painting, one centered.
Jane stared at the painting. Her friend brought her here to help spend the time since she was laid off. It was supposed to be a fun, friendly diversion in between the stress of resume writing and interviews--Jane liked art but didn't expect the painting to *grab her* in this way. Her friend started moving away to look at the next painting, but Jane just couldn't let go.
Excellent, and so true of the Dali experience! 🙌
Wedding Reception. Top row. 2nd from left.
Surrounded by guests, music, and laughter, she sat alone with quiet thoughts of her life before her husband had passed away.
Fun, great idea!
I’ll pick the super “Dad Duties” since some say that a lot of writing is autobiographical..
This guy has just dropped off his other magical daughter at the community school. The little one is already tired from playing with and chasing around the big kids at the bus loop. This is usually the time that she asks for a ride on his “shurdles” (the last remaining word of her amazing baby talk) He is off to the pre-school where she has been since before she can remember. The day is just getting started and there is more to come❤️
I am new to this so excuse me for my mistakes.
*A super Dad duties*
A Dad's shoulders are large enough, so his responsibilities and so their weight. A Mother fairy came to ease that pain. To make him believe that we can share the burden and their weight.
Very nice!
Having arrived in SF many years ago with his newly minted associates degree in IT Sciences, he now took it as an omen, or a curse the sidewalk graffiti off of Folsom he passed everyday to support the Hedge Fund's infrastructure: " San Francisco Sanctuary City for the Rich" Sometimes it made him laugh. Sometimes it made him think. He never believed it until the hateful day in which Market Demands down sized him, made him small, tiny. Here on the wharf lost in the wind and the waves he begins to remember how big he really is.
(bottom right) Carl, who was dressing up as his recent idol Andy Warhol, found a picture empty enough to imagine his portrait onto it. "One day", he thought. Vic Vega beside him was distracted still thinking about the deal with Van Goghs ear. "Yeah I like that guy"
Bottom right from the second image :)
Wedding reception, top left
The crowd gathered and formed a line as they wait to sign the guest book. All of them are familiar with the new couple, but not with each other. Fractions of casual conversations can be heard as the cacophony of stories create a cheerful buzz in the hall.
A homeless person on the waterfront:
Why stay ashore? Why not step off the pier strapped to a potato sack of sand? His life was tragic, yes, often despairing. But he maintained that it is an astonishment to be alive, and he was duty-bound to be astonished.
Wedding reception: middle row, far right. There weren't enough drinks in the reception hall to help her survive the stories of their Ivy-bound offspring. It's not that she wasn't happy for them, it was the grief of knowing that it would be 5-7 years before she could even hug her son again. Or, perhaps, the quiet judgment she felt from these parents who'd been able to protect their children from the consequences of adolescent lapses in judgment.
Lovely!
A Wedding Reception in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Top row, second to the left.
She was 27 years old. She had no money and no prospects. But she was not burdened by society's expectations. And so she was not frightened.
Homeless Man (upper left - At the Pier)
I'm tired of this life I live. If only people knew how bad it was out here. I'm a good person. I shouldn't be here. How long before I get help? God please help me!
Ahh, excellent!