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Archive for the ‘My Paintings’ Category

PUSH ME                                                                           PULL ME

The Inside                                                                          The Outside

What are the attractions of the world inside the South Padre Island Convention Center? The people, the booths of pottery, painting, note cards and unusual items. The hustle, the bustle, the opinions of the attendees about your paintings.

On the other hand, there are the attractions of the world outside on the beach. The birds, the butterflies, and the vast open reaches of sky and sea. The soothing sound of wind, the kites floating gently in the sky, and the flocks of Royal Terns and Black Skimmers huddled, facing the wind, on a sandy beach.

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Freedom! … from fossil fuel! My conception of Fusion is a small sun being squeezed between two giant magnets to produce lots and lots of energy for us to use. Perhaps someday every village and city will have their “own” small sun to supply all the needed electricity and a tiny cost. Think Fusion!

Aliens with Bubble Living Quarters by Mary P Williams

Aliens with Bubble Living Quarters by Mary P Williams

Floating high above their planet are creatures residing in their individual spheres where they live, reproduce, and gaze at the stars.

Greetings by Mary P Williams

Greetings by Mary P Williams

A Human reaches toward some intelligent beings and sends wave-forms to them as their language requires. Can two cultures meet and communicate? How will we modify our own behavior to enable us to exchange information? A fascinating future lies ahead.

I am recommending the two books “The Three Body Problem” and “The Dark Forest” by the Chinese author Cixin Lui which was recently translated.  A mind-boggling revelation of a future talking to OTHERS in the universe. Warning … very technical language and a foreboding view of how meeting another civilization might proceed. Foreboding = fearful apprehension

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"Can You Hear Me?" by Mary P. Williams

“Can You Hear Me?” by Mary P. Williams

How did this reversal happen?

Ten short years ago people came to my office and listened carefully as I explained the intricacies of “the real estate deal”. There was pleasure in the interaction and conversation about this subject and many others.  The most interesting thing about my job as a Real Estate Broker was listening to the clients describe their own jobs and their lives. Fascinating explanations from intelligent, innovative people who loved telling me about their visions of the future.

Sandwiched between viewing one house and another house they told me how the Internet would eliminate the use of paper. How business would be done without a face-to-face meeting of broker and client. Neither of these propositions happened. The  joy with which they described the speed with which a person could buy the home they would live in and the elimination of useless “personality” in the transaction amazed me. Was it possible that the prospective buyer could simply look at staged photos of a house and buy it from thousands of miles away? What about the intangibles of weather, neighborhood, and those stately trees which add so much to the quality of life?

As they described this future world they ambled thru a house and commented on the lack, or abundance, of light and “how the moon would look seen thru this window.” The rose garden on this property and the raked zen paths on that property were compared and aesthetic decisions were arrived at. None of this could be done at a distance.

The key ingredient in the selection of the “perfect” house for the individual was the presence of a person to listen as the client talked about their desire for this or that ambiance. That was the function of the Broker … to listen and reflect back to the person a list of “needs” and “wants”. Two very different values.  I only “need” two bedrooms/one bath but I “want” four bedrooms/two baths. Listen, listen, listen.

Then came the longed for and dreaded RETIREMENT.  My young, active, movers-and-shakers were replaced by older, settled people in communities for ‘Over 55 Adults’. People who were uninterested in current affairs, politics, and who the latest artist/writer/filmmaker was and which newly opened restaurant had divine food combinations/far-out interior design. Yikes!

Who am I to talk to and listen to now ? My preference is to have face-to-face contact which provides subtle clues … body language, intonation, and facial expression meld together to give a whole sensory experience which cannot be achieved by texting a person. Yikes indeed!!

Oh, for the chance to listen to a brilliant person scintillate in front of me. “ Spouting off” is what I believe some folks would call it … I call it “creative thinking out loud” and it was the thing which characterized San Francisco in the 1980’s, 1990’s and the early years of the 21st century. I miss the enthusiasm with which they talked, debated, visualized, shouted, muttered, sang and otherwise expressed the joy of conversation.

Can you hear Me ?

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Sierra Triptych by Mary P Williams

Sierra Triptych by Mary P Williams

“Midnight at the Oasis” was a love ballad sung by Maria Muldaur extolling the virtues of love. It is now midnight in the Sierras and nothing could be more the reverse.  Here, no warm breeze to tease and tickle the bare skin but a chilly wind out of the North as my “sheik” slumbers wrapped in a down comforter.

There are “traces of romance” in the song and in my heart which remembers many years ago the gambols of young human animals experimenting with their bodies. Seventy five years down the road I cannot “slip off to a sand dune…and kick up a little dust” but I can gaze out the window at a full moon glazing the tops of the mountains and the shining billows of cloud and remember.

Four hours away are the warm sand dunes and cactus of Death Valley and fifty years in the past Maria sang with a pure, lustful voice of the pleasures of the body.  The pleasures change with age and the pleasure of lying next to my husband’s warm, sleeping body and slipping a hand onto his fragrant hairy chest brings a smile to my face. His skin is soft from the hot lavender bubble bath he took two hours ago.  What do they say? “Everything is relative.”

Rising to don a bathrobe, I bare-foot it out to the frosty grass where the moonlight is so bright that only three, or four, stars are able to send their long-ago light into my eyes. The rest are obscured by the brilliance of moonbeams.  Going out with a cup of hot tea and a blanket is a shockingly cold wake-up. It is so silent here at the top of the mountain that my ears ring without noise. Then the tiny night noises begin with the low hoot of an owl and the squeak of a mouse. In the meadow a coyote yips his presence to all of his species. We, the owl, the coyote, the mouse and me, are occupying the same moment together and it is a splendid moment, never to recur.

This moment is all the dearer with the assurance of being able to return to the warm man and his pile of covers.

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LInes, by Mary P Williams

Lines, by Mary P Williams

How shall I LINE thee? Let me count the ways …

Thick … thin … curved … straight

Vertical … diagonal … horizontal

LINE you can vary in width … direction or length

PLAY with Line!

it is the joy and delight of the Artist.

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Butterflies II by Mary P Williams

Butterflies II by Mary P Williams

If language is thought of as “a system of communication …either written or spoken,” another category might be added : visual symbols can also carry a message. This fanciful painting explores the concept that butterflies “talk” to each other using the marks on their wings. Here is a collection of marks taken from various species of butterflies with a dollop of imagination.

 

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The Rainbow Hands by Mary P. Williams

The Rainbow Hands
by Mary P. Williams

It was my 76th year to heaven and the weather turned around … there stood I in the Rio Grande Valley with paint on my hands.  To be creative is to be divine. Perhaps it may be unbelievable but the drive to “make something” grows stronger with age.  The question is not how (wood? marble? oil paint? acrylics? paper? canvas?) …

the question is what …

what stirs in our dreams ?

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