"About ART, About LIFE"
Oct 7 - 23, 2009
Reception: Oct 8, 5-8pm
Anne Kittrell Art Gallery
University of Arkansas
Union Bldg, 4th Floor
Fayetteville, AR
About ART, About LIFE
"About ART, About LIFE"
Oct 7 - 23, 2009
Reception: Oct 8, 5-8pm
Anne Kittrell Art Gallery
University of Arkansas
Union Bldg, 4th Floor
Fayetteville, AR
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Borders
Whispers
Pleading whispers
Bleeding in the night whispers
Never heard
And often refused
A helping hand
Faces
Blank faces
Tears filled wrinkled faces
Nameless people
On life-long missions
To a new world
Families
Torned families
Crossing-the-border families
Wandering victims
Searching oppotunities
For a better life
Borders
Man-made borders
Egoistically guarded borders
Guarding the abundance over plenty
That no longer has worth
Once the soul is gone
Pleading whispers
Bleeding in the night whispers
Never heard
And often refused
A helping hand
Faces
Blank faces
Tears filled wrinkled faces
Nameless people
On life-long missions
To a new world
Families
Torned families
Crossing-the-border families
Wandering victims
Searching oppotunities
For a better life
Borders
Man-made borders
Egoistically guarded borders
Guarding the abundance over plenty
That no longer has worth
Once the soul is gone
Peppered With Memories
Among the dreams
Settling on my pillow
After a melancholic night
Are the aromas and petals
Of this man's journey
Peppered with memories
Faces and voices
Of People I have met
And their influence
On my heart
On my soul
On my life
(Thank you for the dreams)
Settling on my pillow
After a melancholic night
Are the aromas and petals
Of this man's journey
Peppered with memories
Faces and voices
Of People I have met
And their influence
On my heart
On my soul
On my life
(Thank you for the dreams)
On Monday She Remembered
The winds howled
But she never noticed
Sarah stared out the window
Wondering
Would there ever be a summer
Like the summers when she was a child
Would the clouds above her head
Ever part
Would she know freedom, true freedom
From what she could not remember
She went for a walk in the park
But never left her home
Sarah spoke with relatives
Who had long been gone
And sometimes she laughed with them
But most of the times
She cried
Sarah couldn't remember why
But she remembered the summers
When she was a child
On Monday she remembered
(donate to the Alzheimer's Association, www.alz.org)
But she never noticed
Sarah stared out the window
Wondering
Would there ever be a summer
Like the summers when she was a child
Would the clouds above her head
Ever part
Would she know freedom, true freedom
From what she could not remember
She went for a walk in the park
But never left her home
Sarah spoke with relatives
Who had long been gone
And sometimes she laughed with them
But most of the times
She cried
Sarah couldn't remember why
But she remembered the summers
When she was a child
On Monday she remembered
(donate to the Alzheimer's Association, www.alz.org)
Describe
Your eyes saw what I couldn't see
And you described it for me
The rose and the thorns on the stem
The sky and the bluest a blue it is
The sun and how it brightens the day
The moon and how she outlines the night
The sea and her mighty waves
All creatures, great and small
I was caged by blindness
but you set me free
And you described it for me
The rose and the thorns on the stem
The sky and the bluest a blue it is
The sun and how it brightens the day
The moon and how she outlines the night
The sea and her mighty waves
All creatures, great and small
I was caged by blindness
but you set me free
Black & White Portraits
Kelley PonderOpera Singer
Kevin BrockmeierAuthor
Kelly Reep
Public Relations
Patrick Lindsey
Kelly ReepPublic Relations
Patrick LindseyModel
Speak Your Dreams
Listen to my words
Dreams are not illusions
They bring love to the sad
And light to eyes
Searching for solutions
Speak your dreams
Expose them to the light
Give life to those images
That bring calm
And shelter through the night
Speak your dreams
Risk that they may rust
Break through that fear
Or they die
Drowning in the dust
Go to sleep tonight
Close your eyes knowing
The heart may be at rest
But dreams ready for a voice
Are still flowing
Dreams are not illusions
They bring love to the sad
And light to eyes
Searching for solutions
Speak your dreams
Expose them to the light
Give life to those images
That bring calm
And shelter through the night
Speak your dreams
Risk that they may rust
Break through that fear
Or they die
Drowning in the dust
Go to sleep tonight
Close your eyes knowing
The heart may be at rest
But dreams ready for a voice
Are still flowing
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Modern Abstracts
"Priscilla's Dream"
"Bouquet of Colors"
"Abstract In Nature"
"Under The Baltic Sea"
"Tiny Little Dancing Flowers"
A Traveler's Postcard
Wish you were here
To see what I see
One hundred raindrops
basting under the morning sun
clinging to the evergreen
across the garden
a parade of aromas and colors
flowers in bloom
oh, beautiful flowers
The sky
a reflection of the sea
a blue I have never seen
bright as bright can be
yes, bright as bright can be
The wind
gently gathering the leaves
like a shepherd
rounding up his sheep
rounding beautiful woolly sheep
Wish you were here
to hear what I hear
From every window
sweet melodies of song birds
cascading songs of love birds
pure harmony
oh, pure harmony
The children
playing in the streets
their laughter
echoe in the wind
like a piano in a rainforest
a song lively and strong
yes, very lively
Wish you were here
to feel what I feel
A heart
happy and full of love
content but missing you so much
wishing you were by my side
wishing you were here
To see what I see
One hundred raindrops
basting under the morning sun
clinging to the evergreen
across the garden
a parade of aromas and colors
flowers in bloom
oh, beautiful flowers
The sky
a reflection of the sea
a blue I have never seen
bright as bright can be
yes, bright as bright can be
The wind
gently gathering the leaves
like a shepherd
rounding up his sheep
rounding beautiful woolly sheep
Wish you were here
to hear what I hear
From every window
sweet melodies of song birds
cascading songs of love birds
pure harmony
oh, pure harmony
The children
playing in the streets
their laughter
echoe in the wind
like a piano in a rainforest
a song lively and strong
yes, very lively
Wish you were here
to feel what I feel
A heart
happy and full of love
content but missing you so much
wishing you were by my side
wishing you were here
Leaves
When SPRING leaves fall
They are kissed by a breeze
When SUMMER leaves fall
They are burned by the sun
When AUTUMN leaves fall
They dance as they drop
When WINTER leaves fall
They freeze in mid-air
Until a breeze kisses them away
They are kissed by a breeze
When SUMMER leaves fall
They are burned by the sun
When AUTUMN leaves fall
They dance as they drop
When WINTER leaves fall
They freeze in mid-air
Until a breeze kisses them away
Love Note
I heard a love note from the sea
A gently whispered breeze
And I blushed
Thinking it was for me
But it was not
This love note was for she
She who lights the sky at night
How embarrassed I became
So I ran and hid behind a tree
Then an apple fell on me
No doubt
I thought
A love note from the tree
A gently whispered breeze
And I blushed
Thinking it was for me
But it was not
This love note was for she
She who lights the sky at night
How embarrassed I became
So I ran and hid behind a tree
Then an apple fell on me
No doubt
I thought
A love note from the tree
What is Art?
Several times I have been asked for my definition of art. I have often struggled to come up with a clever answer, but in the end, each individual will have his or her own meaning of art.
I believe art can encourage dialogue. Artists communicate with the world more passionately and truthfully through the work they create. I believe art can inspire and influence. Art lets the viewer experience what artists see, what they do, who they love, how they feel, and why they are. Art, and the process of creating it, can give confidence to an artist's spirit--a spirit that otherwise may be paper-thin and translucent.
I believe art heals. It breaks down stereotypes, encourages diversity, and stimulates the mind. It can bring calm to the tormented and joy to the disheartened.
I believe art can change the world. When nothing else matters, I am an artist because I want to make changes to this world, too.
I believe art can encourage dialogue. Artists communicate with the world more passionately and truthfully through the work they create. I believe art can inspire and influence. Art lets the viewer experience what artists see, what they do, who they love, how they feel, and why they are. Art, and the process of creating it, can give confidence to an artist's spirit--a spirit that otherwise may be paper-thin and translucent.
I believe art heals. It breaks down stereotypes, encourages diversity, and stimulates the mind. It can bring calm to the tormented and joy to the disheartened.
I believe art can change the world. When nothing else matters, I am an artist because I want to make changes to this world, too.
"Unity Of The Three Sisters"
" Letter of Remembrance"
I stood in front of the messenger and I wept. The air was bitter and it burned my throat as I swallowed the news. You were gone and my world would never be the same again. My colorful dreams of adoring you and being near you slowly faded into black and white collages of memories.
It's been many years since a dreadful disease came into our home and carried you away. But I still remember you, weak as a wounded bird, cradling your soul in your arms, kneeling and praying for your salvation and asking for our protection. On your trembling lips, I could see the drops of guilt left behind by every angry word you shouted. Every tear that ran down your face fell to the ground and stained the clay beneath your knees.
Unselfishly, as you were dying, you were still concerned for our welfare. Even when your body had betrayed you, when the only thing you could move were your eyelids, there was still a trace of compassion burning in your eyes. You nourished us with those looks of compassion.
In a world, in a life, in a home where hope was scarce and nearly extinct, you had faith that the love and respect you had brought into our world in your healthy days would burn bright once you were gone. And in your dying days, we learned about caring, humanity, and the truths about eternity.
Most of all, I remember your love. Unconditional, unmeasurable, and full of the thousands of joys of motherhood. I still remember that love even as it fades.
It's been many years since a dreadful disease came into our home and carried you away. But I still remember you, weak as a wounded bird, cradling your soul in your arms, kneeling and praying for your salvation and asking for our protection. On your trembling lips, I could see the drops of guilt left behind by every angry word you shouted. Every tear that ran down your face fell to the ground and stained the clay beneath your knees.
Unselfishly, as you were dying, you were still concerned for our welfare. Even when your body had betrayed you, when the only thing you could move were your eyelids, there was still a trace of compassion burning in your eyes. You nourished us with those looks of compassion.
In a world, in a life, in a home where hope was scarce and nearly extinct, you had faith that the love and respect you had brought into our world in your healthy days would burn bright once you were gone. And in your dying days, we learned about caring, humanity, and the truths about eternity.
Most of all, I remember your love. Unconditional, unmeasurable, and full of the thousands of joys of motherhood. I still remember that love even as it fades.
"The Cold Night Air"
The cold night air has gone away
Now sets in a brand new day
Morning sun its time to rise
Shine your light and awake the wise
The morning glories have commenced to unfold
On the ground lay the withered and old
The cardinals have begun to sing
Their beautiful songs of love and spring
The air is filled with morning delight
Is hard to believe there was once a night
Now sets in a brand new day
Morning sun its time to rise
Shine your light and awake the wise
The morning glories have commenced to unfold
On the ground lay the withered and old
The cardinals have begun to sing
Their beautiful songs of love and spring
The air is filled with morning delight
Is hard to believe there was once a night
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