This theme came after listening to an interview with Terry Tempest Williams discussing her book "Finding Beauty in a Broken World." I read the book and then spent a long while ruminating the idea. I couldn't help finding bits of inspiration in landscapes & townscapes, pairing with poetry and quotes to accentuate hidden meaning. Here are images of the paintings and bits of quotes and poems that inspired them.
Chasing the Sun: Between the Stormy Sky and the Roiling Sea
(30x30)
Let there be an opening into the quiet that lies beneath the chaos,
where you find the peace you did not think possible
and see what shimmers within the storm.
John O’Donohue, poet
where you find the peace you did not think possible
and see what shimmers within the storm.
John O’Donohue, poet
One Way Out (30x30)
We were born to brave this tilted world
With our hearts laid on the line.
from The Traveling Kind, Rodney Crowell, composer
The best way out is always through. Robert Frost, poet
With our hearts laid on the line.
from The Traveling Kind, Rodney Crowell, composer
The best way out is always through. Robert Frost, poet
Broken Hallelujah (30x40)
The wound is where the light enters you.
Rumi, 15th century Sufi Mystic
There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken hallelujah?
Leonard Cohen, composer
Rumi, 15th century Sufi Mystic
There’s a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken hallelujah?
Leonard Cohen, composer
Autumn's Color Chaos
We live in a rainbow of chaos. Paul Cezanne, artist
The arresting intensity of turned fall leaves against an October sky overtakes the broken spirit and fills the empty space.
Everything is blooming most recklessly: if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. Rainier Maria Rilke, poet
The arresting intensity of turned fall leaves against an October sky overtakes the broken spirit and fills the empty space.
Everything is blooming most recklessly: if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. Rainier Maria Rilke, poet
Boldt Graffiti (20x16)
There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts. Neil Gaiman, author
Boldt Castle was built on a heart-shaped island in Lake Ontario as a retreat for Louise Boldt, the beloved wife of George C. Boldt, proprietor of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in NYC. The building of the grand structure and the surrounding gardens continued for several years, but came to a halt when Louise died suddenly. Broken hearted, Boldt left the dream castle unfinished and never returned. For decades the castle was left to the elements, vandals, and to uninvited guests who left behind their own declarations of love in graffiti found in the castle turrets.
Boldt Castle was built on a heart-shaped island in Lake Ontario as a retreat for Louise Boldt, the beloved wife of George C. Boldt, proprietor of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in NYC. The building of the grand structure and the surrounding gardens continued for several years, but came to a halt when Louise died suddenly. Broken hearted, Boldt left the dream castle unfinished and never returned. For decades the castle was left to the elements, vandals, and to uninvited guests who left behind their own declarations of love in graffiti found in the castle turrets.
Light in the Forest II (3 panels, each 12x24)
And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul. John Muir, naturalist
There are places and moments in time when a shaft of brilliance strikes the darker corners, like the gaps in the forest canopy where the sunlight breaks through, illuminating the ground below. There the flowers can grow—elder berry, partridge berry, blue eyed grass, viburnum, and Turk Cap lilies.
There are places and moments in time when a shaft of brilliance strikes the darker corners, like the gaps in the forest canopy where the sunlight breaks through, illuminating the ground below. There the flowers can grow—elder berry, partridge berry, blue eyed grass, viburnum, and Turk Cap lilies.
 Fractured Earth VI (11x14)
There are places where the earth is broken open. Cracks that seep and bubble. Light breaks down through the layers, secrets are exposed.
Roots. Bones. Fossils. Carbon. Coal. And we are still looking for those precious veins of gold |
Fractured Earth VII (11x14)
|
Fractured Earth I (20x24)
Tell your secrets to the night
You do yours and I’ll do mine
So we won’t have to keep them all inside
From “Save Yourself” by Jökull Júlíusson (Kaleo)
You do yours and I’ll do mine
So we won’t have to keep them all inside
From “Save Yourself” by Jökull Júlíusson (Kaleo)
No Diving (20x24)
A work of art is the trace of a magnificent struggle. Robert Henri, artist & author
Go around to the back of any aging but cared-for building and there you will find the struggle that was required to make the front facade presentable. Patched walls, unmatched windows, nearly erased graffiti, these are evidence of cobbled together dreams and frustrated aspirations. ‘Round back is where true life is evident, exposed and vulnerable.
Your job is not to judge. Your job is not to figure out if someone deserves something. Your job is to lift the fallen, to restore the broken, and to heal the hurting. Paul, book of Romans
Go around to the back of any aging but cared-for building and there you will find the struggle that was required to make the front facade presentable. Patched walls, unmatched windows, nearly erased graffiti, these are evidence of cobbled together dreams and frustrated aspirations. ‘Round back is where true life is evident, exposed and vulnerable.
Your job is not to judge. Your job is not to figure out if someone deserves something. Your job is to lift the fallen, to restore the broken, and to heal the hurting. Paul, book of Romans
Laundry and Broken Dreams (16x20)
You can’t turn the wind so turn the sail. African Proverb
You just can’t throw in the towel. You wash it, hang it to dry, and get on with things.
Spring Breaking Through: Bent Run (30x40) sold
There is a hidden message in every waterfall. It says, if you are flexible, falling will not hurt you!
Mehmet Murat ildan, Turkish playwright
Mehmet Murat ildan, Turkish playwright
Searching for Hope (30x30)
At my gate I’ll always greet you
At my door you’re welcome in
There can be no transgression as a means to an end
On the wind the wolves are howling, open arms are closed in fear
Helping hands are clenched in anger, broken hearts beyond repair
From “The Wolves” by Andrew Marlin, Mandolin Orange
At my door you’re welcome in
There can be no transgression as a means to an end
On the wind the wolves are howling, open arms are closed in fear
Helping hands are clenched in anger, broken hearts beyond repair
From “The Wolves” by Andrew Marlin, Mandolin Orange
 Fractured Earth III (11x14)
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything, That's how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen, composer |
Fractured Earth IV(11x14)
|
Searching for Stardust (30x30)
We come spinning out of nothingness scattering stars like dust.
Rumi, Sufi mystic
We are travelers on a cosmic journey. Stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share.
This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.
Paulo Coello, author
We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars that have people names.
Nikita Gill, poet
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde, author
Rumi, Sufi mystic
We are travelers on a cosmic journey. Stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share.
This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.
Paulo Coello, author
We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars that have people names.
Nikita Gill, poet
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde, author
Light in the Forest (40x30)
And into the forest I go, to clear my mind and find my soul. John Muir
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. Paul, 1 Corinthians
 Inspired by Letchworth Park I
(3 panels, each 12x24)
Dense layers of stone and mud, plants and bones, a story fossilized forever.
When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic, Time takes on the strain until it breaks; Then all the unattended stress falls in On the mind like an endless, increasing weight. …Draw alongside the silence of stone Until its calmness can claim you. John O’Donohue, Poet |
Inspired by Letchworth VI
(14x11)
|
Break of Day: Cook Forest
(30x40)
…but for sheer delight and gratitude--
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you do not walk by without pausing
to attend to this rather ridiculous performance.
from “Invitation” by Mary Oliver, poet
believe us, they say,
it is a serious thing just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world.
I beg of you do not walk by without pausing
to attend to this rather ridiculous performance.
from “Invitation” by Mary Oliver, poet
We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins,
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars that have people names.
Nikita Gill, poet
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde, author
carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains.
93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames,
we are all just stars that have people names.
Nikita Gill, poet
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde, author
Along the Clarion (12x36) sold
I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding. John O’Donohue, poet
Art is longing. You never arrive, but you keep going in the hope that you will. Anselm Kiefer, artist
A river is an incentive to keep going to find your will in the unbroken, constant flow of the river.
Art is longing. You never arrive, but you keep going in the hope that you will. Anselm Kiefer, artist
A river is an incentive to keep going to find your will in the unbroken, constant flow of the river.
Chasing the Sun, Dusk (24x12)
Being grounded is great, unless you’re a bird with a broken wing.
(with bits of music score from the Appalachian Carol “I wonder as I wander.”)
(with bits of music score from the Appalachian Carol “I wonder as I wander.”)
A friend discovered a hidden secret while cleaning out a house she had just bought from the family of an elderly couple. In the attic she shuffled through the discarded remains of a long life and found an old photo album. It was packed with faded images of stiff, stern old men and women — serious, hardworking faces with no discernible spark of frivolity or foolishness. I leafed through the album. A photograph of a particularly grim and austere old woman was loose in its cardboard frame and I slipped it out. Hidden behind her image was tucked a small photo of a young woman, hand on hip, looking playful, frisky, teasing. Had I broken open evidence of a very old secret, kept under covers, a secret that had died with its keepers? A picture of broken trust? How often we think we know people, until they are broken open.
The weight of embedded grief
is carried from generation to generation,
often without knowing
why
I recently found a short memoir my mother had written about her childhood. A comment was slipped into a paragraph about her estranged father: “… his grandmother was murdered back in Sweden…” No explanation.
It made me wonder about those times I had caught a little bit of sadness behind her smile, a hesitation in her laugh. Do buried secrets continue to haunt the generations?
is carried from generation to generation,
often without knowing
why
I recently found a short memoir my mother had written about her childhood. A comment was slipped into a paragraph about her estranged father: “… his grandmother was murdered back in Sweden…” No explanation.
It made me wonder about those times I had caught a little bit of sadness behind her smile, a hesitation in her laugh. Do buried secrets continue to haunt the generations?
‘kom til mig’ Swedish, meaning ‘come to me’
