Monthly Archives: August 2021

In My Day…

🛷🍾 HI DARLINGS, TODAY WE’VE GOT A GREAT WORK AND A WONDERFUL STORY.

Odd Bits About Books

One of the many things I like about novels from different times and places is when something is said that is so utterly timeless that it reminds me that we aren’t all that different.

Last month I talked about how even the ancient Greeks knew what it was to really fancy a particular food for no reason and today I thought we’d chat about how older generations talk about younger people. The current media is convinced that the Baby Boomers (anyone born from the mid 1940s to the mid ’60s) are in a constant battle with the Millennials (anyone born in the 1980s to the mid ’90s), but did previous generations get on any better?

Just to warn you – I am going to talk about Tolstoy this week but don’t worry, I’ll be looking one of his short stories not his novels. While I quite like his novels, I…

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Pas de danse….

🎶👣 WELL LOVELIES, LET’S DANCE AGAIN !

La tête dans les dessins.

J’aime la danse et voir les danseurs. Leur souplesse, leur grâce, le contrôle qu’ils savent avoir de leurs corps me fascinent.

Mais pour moi, la danse, quand je danse, rime avec jeu, joie, corps et liberté.

Qu’importent les pas, pourvu qu’on ait l’ivresse.

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Creative Circle of Life

☀️🐍 WELL SISTERS, I ADORE WORK, WHERE APPEARS A SNAKE DANCER.

Art and Soul Space

Art and Soulie Spot 9
Stories from the Creative Path

Sally McKern artChild of the Universe
Sally McKern
© original art

Introducing Sally McKern, a wonderful woman who isn’t convinced she is creative, but you will see otherwise. 

Sally’s mother attended my first ever creativity workshop way back in 1993, when Art and Soul was called

Art for Heart’s Sake.

Sally contacted me this year to see if she AND her mother AND her daughter could come along to a playshop.

I was touched.

To me, this is the Creative Love Exchange

in action.

It’s the Circle of Life. 

Oh My Goddess Swain book Greena – Goddess of Recycling
Sally Swain © original art
from ‘Oh My Goddess!’
Bantam, USA, Australia
1994

Here she is….

Creativity over the Generations

Part One

Sally Swain asked me if I’d like to write something about creativity and I said yes because I love Sally, but the biggest part of me has…

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Trying On + Rating All My Pointe Shoes!

🩰 💟 HI SISTERS! LET’S TRY POINTE SHOES!

Diary of a Daydreamer

Hey daydreamers! How is your weekend going so far? It’s been actually a really good week and I’m so excited for this weekend as well! When I saw Amber did a post like this, I thought it was a super fun idea! I asked her if I could steal the post idea, and she said I could, so I decided to try it! 😛 Thanks for the inspiration, Amber, and make sure to check out her post!

When you’re a dancer, you go through many pointe shoes because they “die” very quickly, or break down. The “shank” (the hard sole that is supporting you in the shoe) becomes bendy and soft, the “box” (the hard ends of the shoes where your toes are) becomes soft and unsupportive, and the “wings” (the sides of the pointe shoes toward the box) also break down.

This is because most traditional pointe shoes…

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On pointe or not on pointe?

🎶 👣 💙 DANCE FOREVER! HI BEAUTIES THIS IS TO ME, A VERY APPRECIATED POST. THANKS A MILLION TO DEAR YVONNE.

DANCE IMAGES IN THE ART OF THE NETHERLANDS

In Amsterdam, in the early 19th century, dance and drama flourished. The theatre, the Schouwburg, housed both a drama and a ballet company. The French dancer, Marie Polly Cuninghame (1785-1837), who had studied with Pierre Gardel, was immensely popular. She became known, through marriage, as Polly de Heus gracing the Schouwburg stage from 1801 until her retirement in 1823. A contemporary writer, on seeing her perform in Paris, described her as a very pretty dancer, having a bright expression, excelling in multiple entrechats and jumping with astonishing lightness, vivacity and daring.* Polly de Heus together with the actress Johanna Cornelia Ziesenis-Wattier (1762 – 1827), were the most adored artists of the Pre-Romantic era.

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Reluctant culprit

💜 🏳️ SO TRUE DARLINGS, WE SHOULD READ WORDS BELOW THIS GENUINE ABSTRACT WORK. THERE IS A LESSON TO LEARN.

Eva van Beek

(for all women who fight to live in dignity)

I turned around and
years had
been swallowed

and nobody told me
life would hasten
to judge me again

reluctant culprit,
twice convicted,
being a woman,
and now growing old

years ago
wanted for play
and wanted for work
curves could convince
and eyes would coerce
(parentheses
around the lewd,
of course)

I waved
a red flag
to go beyond
no audience there
to crush these walls

of a prison set
right after birth
the law could bend
albeit never break

today
not wanted for play,
not wanted for work
no respect to get
or wisdom to give
(a target for botox,
that set aside)

I waved
a white flag
at an empty hall

no audience there for
a withering hag;
no status or justice
for this gender spurned

rules can still bend,
and yet never break.

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Butchered

♀️♂️ WELL SISTERS, IN MY OPINION THIS PAINTING AND THIS SKETCH ARE VERY GREAT.

Summerhill Lane

Untitled oil painting by Summerhill Lane

Sketch on lined paper

Butchered

Dear loved ones,

On July 6th I finally got a hair cut at a salon. I was so happy that the hairdressers were allowed back to work and us unbeautified people could once again put ourselves in their loving care. I am waxing too much about this I know. Let’s just say I was tired of pulling my hair back into a ponytail and wanted again a shorter pixie cut that suits me.

Once I was seated in the chair, a woman who I hadn’t been to before started combing my hair and asking me what I wanted. I should have stuck with her, but I asked for the lady that usually cuts and styles my hair. This was a big mistake as it turned out.

Everything was going good until my hairdresser got distracted. An older woman…

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Once upon a soulmate

👩‍❤️‍👨 SO TRUE, SISTERS, A FINE WORK, ALWAYS CARES ITS BACKGROUND.

It was a short-lived time. We spent days together inseparable. Anything that happened had to be immediately pinged to each other. Work, cribbing about the sales target, or how much I hate my colleagues. He even knew about Milons – the chai-tapri I usually called him as a ritual before getting in or out of work.

Now when I think of him, only good memories flood in. Never have I really fell in love with a person who lived miles apart but made my stomach swirl with butterflies just with his words and kisses. It was a fairy tale. Our sunset smeared love story!

He wrote me this one night and I so wish these are still emotions he feels strongly about. This brings a smile to my face on days I feel gloomy. I needed him more than he needed me.

In the haze of early morning semi awareness

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Lettre aux absents

💁 SO TRUE DEARS. WHEN YOU PRACTISE A LOT, SOMETIMES NUDE STUDIES COMES FROM MEMORIES.

La tête dans les dessins.

A mes chers absents. A mes chers d’avant.

Famille, amis, amants….

Vous avez pris un morceau de moi pour l’emporter dans votre oubli.

Je garde une part de vous. Lumineuse mais tout au fond de moi.

Le souvenir de vos sourires, de nos joies partagées, de ces moments qui nous ont uni, banals ou pas est comme une blessure dont je refuse de guérir.

Vous me manquez toutes et tous.

Je vous aime.

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Seeing the Self in What We Love

💟 HI BEAUTIES! IT’S TIME FOR TENDERNESS, BY CHAGALL.

Deborah J. Brasket

Marc Chagall, Les amoureux, 1916

I’ve become mesmerized by the quote below I found on The Beauty We Love. These first four lines, especially, move me.

A wife loves her husband not for his own sake, dear, but because the Self lives in him.

The husband loves his wife not for her own sake, dear, but because the Self lives in her.

Children are loved not for their own sake, but because the Self lives in them.

Everything is loved not for its own sake, but because the Self lives in it.

Reading these words, I feel the truth in them. When I look at and love my husband, my son, my daughter, what I’m seeing and loving is something, a Self, so much larger than what we each are alone. Something that resonates within me and within all the things I love. Something that is not an other, but what runs through and…

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