Our Buoyant Force
May30

Our Buoyant Force

  The visual life is an enormous undertaking, practically unattainable. Dorothea Lange   . . .   The Q: How do we ride our buoyant force in the waves? Share Your Response Here   Facing the bombarding waves seemingly coming from all directions, I engage the core of my soul and move forward, sometimes with the rhythm force of the current, learning to enjoy the journey. Carol Durant     “Fault Line...

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Indian Paintbrush by Simona Carini
May30

Indian Paintbrush by Simona Carini

  “Indian Paintbrush” by Simona Carini   A tuft of Indian paintbrush blooms in the fierce environment of a stretch of Northern California coast. It does not wait for a more suitable condition to materialize. It answers its call without delay.   ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here   Simona Carini Artist Statement: Born in Perugia, Italy, and a graduate of the Catholic...

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Fault Line with Parrot by Diane Lucille Meyer
May30

Fault Line with Parrot by Diane Lucille Meyer

“Fault Line with Parrot” by Diane Lucille Meyer   In the very old green sketchbook, I found a watercolor sketch of a parrot. He was a borrowed pet very noisy and very active, almost more so when he saw me attempting to paint him. I retrace my random brush strokes back to the time and place when I made this sketch and I feel his effervescence and energy as I study the piece, closely and from afar, yet when I turn the...

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The Q | Our Buoyant Force
May15

The Q | Our Buoyant Force

Buoyant Force Q: How do we ride our buoyant force in the waves?*Responses will be curated and may be shared with permission.Permission* Yes, I give my permission Show Full AgreementBy submitting your response, you are granting AROHO permission for possible publication – in whole or excerpts – in WAVES, which is also archived on our website and may be shared on social platforms.Name* First Last Address* State / Province / Region...

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a ping (or whalesong)
Apr25

a ping (or whalesong)

  Your silence exists as does my self gathering. But so does the almost absolute silence of the world’s dawning. In such suspension, before every utterance on earth, there is a cloud, an almost immobile air. The plants already breathe, while we still ask ourselves how to speak to each other, without taking breath away from them.   Luce Irigaray   Naked I came into the world, but brush strokes cover me, language raises...

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