Hollyhock 2

I must admit that I have bad memories connected with those plants since childhood… no idea why, but somehow they are here, always close to me.

Too close sometimes.

But with time, even still not fully drawn to them I learn to appreciate the amazing beauty attached to them.

This possibility of growing and blooming for a long time.

Those big flowers, shaped like ballerina’s dresses, just ready to pick them up…

… and dance…

Dance dance dance…

And feed bumblebees…

Somehow they love them the most. Or because of their sizes it is much comfortable for them to gather stuff?

But when the sun is setting…

They change and with time close, fall down…

Show multiple seeds.

But for now…

They wait for ballerinas, fairies and anyone who misses dancing. Those light pieces of material which floats and adds something to step, to movement of hands, whole body or maybe… they dance, when you don’t look?

Hollyhock

Once upon a time…

There was a hollyhock, and another one and another and…

And in fact in a setting sun they looked like silky creatures ready to fly.

Like a place where in fact fairies are born.

Just wait, you can hear them singing.

You can see them flying.

You can let your imagination be out from all known covers and fly… be free, finally. Free truly.

Simple.

And yes, they are only flowers…

Only or maybe more than just flowers?

They got hidden powers.

Look at those seeds. Oh, it is too early, but wait a moment… just wait.

Autumn is coming… they are changing.

The wall

The sun was setting, the city was still busy, but the wall… oh my, it was amazing.

In fact created as an uneven, chunky wall, covered with almost mirrored like black. Tar maybe?

Which easily with this light made it…

AWESOME.

Gold and shiny.

And blue… and red.

And to be honest, in front of it, in an old yellow building is a gallery…

Also awesome, but not like…

That wall.

LOL

Beautiful in its own imperfectness. In those cracks and shiny spots and…

It is like… every piece of it was a perfect, ready to hang, picture.

And all thanks to reflections and light.

A fable…

This is a fable, a story about this other world which I visit so often.

The World of Reflections which in fact is the one true…

The one real.

Still, also, the one forgotten.

Sadly.

Forgotten so long time ago, that only wind remembers about it and stars… nobody else.

But you know what? This way it is better, because nowadays humans so easily destroy everything, that this fragile environment could be so quickly just swept away. Just removed, destroyed…

Or worst… used to the last sparkle and…

Left…

In pain.

Suddenly uncovered and naked.

Vulnerable.

It is better to only touch it, when it comes to us, those who know it is there… see its leftovers. Be amazed and…

Leave.

Touch and leave.

But first listen to a fable… or fables in fact. Legends and songs, myths and stories. About kings and queens, dragons and shapeless creatures… good and bad. Bad and, in fact undefined…

Just some inspirations…

It depends where you are… and how you look… and… yeah, in fact they are everywhere, but still they are not helping me, because this what I wanna paint is in my head. Is bothering me. Is making me crazy!!!

Impatient.

I never wanna paint something what already exists but sometimes photography kills my brushing time. Really, truly. Somehow when I take a photo, I do not wanna paint it. I have a photo, it took me a moment, or took ages to take exactly this one shot.

You never know.

Even if I tell you, will you believe?

Do I need your faith?

Nope.

Or more like I should not to.

Because I am awesome, I am smart, talented and working hard, still… I am trying to say it to stubborn myself every day, but…

I am not listening to me.

Never.

And it sucks.

I do not believe in myself.

In simple, boring myself.

I do not believe in this world, in fact I do not have faith in me. I have only the knowledge. I just know things…

Just know…

And only those reflections always bother my mind…

Because somehow, they are not mirrors, no way… they are another worlds. And they are so arty, that I am too jealous to paint. LOL

PS. There are new pieces for sale if you are interested!!! Except the green one all come with wooden easel, more photos on Kobaltowa Wrona, and are 200DKK each. Contact me on Facebook.   

Wooden art

Okay, so… we all know this one kind of country art, rural one, which for many people is a bit questionable and for me…

For me is something what also raised me.

As a kid I was taught by artists who are still famous and also by those which were working for themselves, or only to sell on church markets…

Simple, by kind of…

Much more free. Unrestricted.

Usually subjects were ecclesial, churchy, Christian, but sometimes…

Yeah.

I remember men and women with tiny knives or bigger ones…

Especially if you visit polish mountains, you will find all this naughtiness there, and devilness. LOL

Some of them used burners some…

Were crazy with paint, and colors were always so vibrant because most of this kind of art was born when nights were dark and long…

Most of people find it kitschy. Most of artists even, find it lesser than posh, abstract, monochromatic photos and me?

I see there a human being who just wants to find himself.

Have fun and give it to others.

In fact this place is by the road so I hope you will not miss it… when on my island. LOL Because maybe some of the face can hunt your dreams, but those bears and squirrels.. Awwww…

Homes

Maybe you are not like me… maybe you have a home in which you grew up and it is still somehow your perfect safe gateway…

Maybe…

I never had it. True home, so… I was always dreaming about one. For sure not pink one. Nope. LOL

But when we think about home we too often forget about… where it should be placed and that in fact that whole place also is…

Home.

The Home.

Or maybe homes?

Maybe in fact a being can be in love in few homes?

Not buildings, because there is a huge different in those words. Homes is heart, pants and sitting on a floor, and house… is watching us.

But have you ever wonder about homes of others…

Those a bit unseen…

Because what if… what if everyone and everything has a home? I mean every stone, piece of grass, leaf, tree… and to be honest we all live in one, although some of us can somehow claim that this is only theirs?

Maybe…

Maybe hidden veils just close them, or open, or just…

… just everything is so combined, what we had forgotten about, that you can not say it is mine, only mine!!! My box, my rock. Maybe… oh well, too much thinking, stop rolling my brain, calm down!!!

Yeah, I know… pink sea. Cool, right LOL

Look here…

And suddenly you think you could live everywhere, but in fact…

Well… I hate saying that home is where heart is.

Sometimes living in a chest is not a good idea, there is a bunch of diseases which are there and…

Sometimes home is where the home wanna be!!! Bricks, rocks and windows choose you. What about this theory?

Weird, right? What if it is true?

Outside

So much is happening outside.

Changes every time.

But the problem are… humans.

Unable to keep their shit together.

Stop cutting, destroying, creating… just stop. Why humans can not stop and just wait, listen, watch?

Suddenly a simple walk is called something new… touching trees is a new discovery.

I am too old for this shit.

Really.

Too old… heard too much, saw too much, too many made me cry so now…

All I want is to be outside…

Outside of humanity.

I can deal with others only via internet… and even this starts to scare me… Even those not so real people who you can always lie to… that you have no power, no connection, no… fingers to click those tiny black buttons…

Outside.

Outside is quiet, full of nature and even an annoying fly is so much smarter than a usual being I pass by on a street. More friendly even, and if I am enough of her – the fly – I can smack her, right?

Yes… I am a sociopath. I think.

Or maybe I know it…

Being outside of so called society means nobody gets you. Mostly because when they mention some modern name or a tag, you are like: what? Or jokes. I do not get them. I can talk about tulips and seaweeds. And mysteriously watching us lilacs… or about the sky changing between the storms…

I can talk about bark.

It is so fascinating.

Light.

Archaeology and history, anthropology and books of course, but modern world… nope… fashion? Who cares? Yes, I am aware of a being trying to show of its own personality by clothing, but not nowadays… nowadays most of people just follow those famous, so I will follow tulips and waves.

Outside of everything else. LOL

The Fog

Yes, it needed THE and FOG in the title because it was a weird phenomena.

Very unusual, although fogs are not something uncommon here. Sometimes rare, sometimes more often…

But to be honest, this one lasted for a week.

And mostly on a half of the island.

My half.

But there was so much magic in it… okay, science of course to… the air full of water drops worked as mirrors, billions of tiny mirrors reflecting green and yellow and of course themselves and the water…

So it was spectacular.

But also a bit scary.

Really.

Still… after a week of fog, we welcomed blue sky with open eyes and hope… or just open eyes when it comes to one sad me. LOL

Oh those drops of water…

So amazing.

A splash of color

People often say: a splash of color, a sprinkle of colors, like there were no colors in this time… only, I got no idea what…

Because colors are like weather.

They are always around us.

But of course, loving rainy day, grey weather, black, brown, sandy or something…

This way, humans describe as boring.

The amazing background without which you could not see them…

Why you see only the red, yellow, striking neon green… purple?

For me even a simple poop can be a splash of colors.

Yes.

Are we reacting to the minority… or are bored by majority.

Or maybe it is the red…

Because it is mostly redness which somehow makes as look…

Light coming through the leaves…

Or maybe yellow?

Smelling like honey and a bit of poop.

Oh well… I think everyone is different, but to many tries to like things others – influences, rich humans – like. And they forget about their own feeling and favorites.

And they whiter slowly… inside of them, crying…

Be yourself.

Don’t be ashamed by this what you love. I hate Chanel bags, I find them ugly, same with LV esthetic… so what, I can. Because I have my brain on its place. And this brain so so much beauty that is able to say what its likes or dislikes.