The sound of paper hearts
Valentine. The sound of paper hearts. Secrets. Soft. The smell of dried rose petals. Pink. Red. Words of love, friendship, kindness, admiration, courage. Love.
Valentine. The sound of paper hearts. Secrets. Soft. The smell of dried rose petals. Pink. Red. Words of love, friendship, kindness, admiration, courage. Love.
A brief alphabetical meditation little stepping stones to help structure the next weeks culminating in the next full moon
Today is Thomas Mann’s birthday. He was born in 1875 (Lübeck, Germany). All over the world societies dedicated to his name and fame will have some kind of memorial moment.
They arrive by car, mother and daughter, I open the garage door of the studio complex and let them in. The cello is still asleep and lies as a lazy dog in the back.
While making conversation, I should talk directly and seriously about my latest drawing called ‘Bridal Room’, a work on paper (90 x 100 centimeters) that plays a modest part in the art exhibition Come-Go-Stay.
Risky business: writing about the full moon. One may be mistaken for a witchy type of person, dancing around naked outdoors in a field once a month.
I am staring at circles printed in a German art magazine