The artist guides the brush in a thin, black streak along the canvas, outlining the woman’s wrinkled forehead. As the color begins to fade, she swipes her paintbrush through a container of white paint. She looks shockingly at what she has done once the paintbrush has been lifted back to the line she had painted moments before. Looking down at her paints, she sees a splotch of gray that sits in the center of the white, only to be swallowed by the simple, pristine color. Her paints had been ruined. Or had they? She shook her head, gently lifting another brush from her small glass bottle of the worn, wooden items. After a short dip in the black paint once more, she continues to outline the aged woman’s face. She remembered that she kept many
I was born on March 08, 1995 at roughly seven pounds. When I was extracted from my mother, I was given the gender of a male with the appearance of my male body parts. My mother used to say to me, growing up as a toddler that I had so much hair like former American Football player, Troy Polamalu. People had always assumed that I was a girl, therefore my mother had to correct them and say, “No, he is a boy”. Growing up a toddler, I was always wearing some type of jeans with a sports shirt and shoes that were mostly colored black or blue. As I grew older, I gained interest in baseball, wrestling, and the military. I always wanted to play with action figures such as GI Joe and wrestling celebrities in addition to imaginary flying in an apache helicopter or taking command in a battle tank. Advancing to my pre-teen years, I wanted to play baseball, which is considered to be mostly a boy sport. It was at this moment, that my gender was a boy. Progressing to my teen years, I started to observe my father and learn my gender on his roles as the man in our family. I noticed that my father was already taking charge in the house and giving me orders that I needed to complete. Going through middle school, most boys had some type of sports backpack while the girls
I can’t unveil any more of the plot without destroying the readingpleasure, but there is one thing you should carry back in your mind as you read the book; the painting is the main element which most of the story circles round.
The article Artists Mythologies and Media Genius, Madness and Art History (1980) by Griselda Pollock is a forty page essay where Pollock (1980), argues and explains her views on the crucial question, "how art history works" (Pollock, 1980, p.57). She emphasizes that there should be changes to the practice of art history and uses Van Gogh as a major example in her study. Her thesis is to prove that the meaning behind artworks should not be restricted only to the artist who creates it, but also to realize what kind of economical, financial, social situation the artist may have been in to influence the subject that is used. (Pollock, 1980, pg. 57) She explains her views through this thesis and further develops this idea by engaging in scholarly debates with art historians and researcher, and objecting to how they claim there is a general state of how art is read. She structures her paragraphs in ways that allows her to present different kinds of evidences from a variety sources while using a formal yet persuasive tone of voice to get her point across to the reader.
In an empty room at the Timken Museum of Art hangs one of the most iconic paintings of Johannes Vermeer, the astonishing painting, Woman in Blue Reading a Letter. In the painting a pale woman’s stands patiently while reading a letter. The woman appears to be wearing a blue jacket and a long gray skirt, and only gazing at the letter, ignoring all of her surroundings. The top right of the painting seems to be a map of the Netherlands, which attracts the viewer because it explains the setting of where the painting took place. The blue jacket around the woman’s torso appears to exaggerate the woman’s stomach, giving the impression that she might be pregnant. The blue chairs resemble a sign of absence as if she lives alone. The light on the top left shines on her face which enhances the viewer’s view of the woman’s facial expression. Johannes Vermeer’s interpretation of complex colors, the light, and her body language inflicts a persuasion on the viewer that the women is traumatized by the news in the letter.
Hot days are taking over Charlottesville and summer classes have finally started. As a result, dresses and sunglasses are taking over grounds and I can’t say I’m hating it! I ran into this adorable Fashionista and immediately loved her outfit; I could see myself in everything she was wearing and the little details in her outfit stood out as well.
The identity of a graffiti artist is hardly ever known, but the style of the art is. They can be identified by the way they express themselves. It can be broad and can be shown in many different forms. The forms can range from a simple tag of identity, an expression of protest and politics, to an alluring scene of art work. Although the graffiti writers work is their expression; they are trying to convey a message about the issues in the world around them.
“Her fingertips and face became dry, but there was no odor. James helped me wash her hair and I massaged hand lotion into her hands.”
The wind rustled the pieces of cloth in the trees and branches again, red, pink, and blue. “Don’t worry, we still can,” I said, taking out two pieces of paper I’d tucked into my robes earlier, scribbling my name and Minho’s on them with a piece of charcoal, and handing a piece to Minho. “You just have to leave it there for her, so she can read it
I, interviewed Mrs.Snyder. She is my school secretary and my acquaintance.Her birthday is september, 8th, 1961, she was born in defiance Ohio. Hal and Marie Peters are her parents. Mrs. Snyder's siblings are Kelly and Phil. Her kids have lived in OH,FairFax VA, Joliet IL, (Michael), Columbus OH, Nashville TN (Matthew). She has brown hair, wears glasses,short,green eyes,beaded necklace,red nails,black sweater,cordez, and black boots.
Riley is holding onto a bucket and a small paint brush, attempting to paint everything with his little paint brush
I've always been a very hands-on person. I grew up working on my father's hunting farm, where I partook in a wide array of meticulous manual labor on a daily basis. I could go from rebuilding broken down farm equipment, to measuring out wood to build things such as: new stands, feeders, and one devoted summer even a house. My hands on mentality showed itself in a few other forms as well. I was an apartment maintenance man where I constantly used my hands attacking something different daily, to my current job where I rebuild and flip things such as speakers for a profit.
the devastation by creating pieces of work featuring a new dark genre Paintings and drawings
There are tens and thousands of stories around us, in the books, in the TV programs, and in the movies. But only a few of them leave a deep impression on our minds because they are heart touching. Look around you, you will find on your own such a story. It would not be a surprise if the story turns out to be "your life." That is because stories are same, differences lie only in dealing with your own story. This is a short story that tells the same thing that everybody has problems, but the difference lies in dealing with the problems. It also gives a glimpse of a life of those who has struggled so far to achieve the basic necessities of life and in the end, their struggle and compassion for others bring an abundance of good fortune for them.
Her eyes played over the top of the night stand. Behind the phones, next to the dog eyed paperback, sat a framed photo. It was one of the few gifts she had received from her sister, a picture of their mother, youthful and happy, smiling with her whole face.
The arts have influenced my life in amazing ways. Throughout my life, art has been the place I run to and my escape from the world. As I’ve grown older, art has become so much more than that. Every piece of art I create is a journey into my soul. It’s a priceless way to deal with my emotions and my struggles. I create art not only because I enjoy it and because I want to, but because I have to. Somewhere deep inside there is a driving force, urging me to put my heart down on paper. I become emotionally attached to each of my pieces because they are like dashes on the wall marking my growth. Each one is the solution to a problem I have dealt with and overcome.