hey, this probably has no connection to what you posted, but i thought it’d be polite to ask your permission to link your blog through mine, its really been inspiring and though-provoking for me.>>and btw, are these paintings and done by you?
i’ve studied this and studied this. there is such energy in the way the pointing boy is extending his arm when i observe how the muscles clump and stretch–it conveys and energy, excitement– and of course, it’s because of the <>dame<> on the barge. lol..>>i don’t get the feeling she’s a corpse (as a similar mannequin drew that ghoulish association for me in the dumpster picture from your trip)- but rather that she’s a sun-worshipper, traveliing up a lazy river.>>what i am struck by most of all is the universal language of ‘tits’. >>lol….>>no matter where, no matter when, they send the mercury up the <>notice-meter<> real fast, and i would suppose the young men are indeed <>in hog heaven<> getting their free peek from a close railing.>– k.
Karen->>Great read on this! Hog Heaven, indeed.>>Thanks as always.>>>>BoredPhuck->>Feel free to link, I’m glad you get something out of this place. The images are collages that I create using my own photographs and other images which I then either cut and paste with scissors and glue or work up in Photoshop.>>Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.>>>Scott
I love this because it makes me think of the Diego Rivera inspired murals on the first floor of the Coit Tower, if those murals were to actually have a sense of humor, which then reminds me of having a blindly claustrophobic moment riding up that elevator with a man whose hair smelled of really sweet oil which then reminds me of a terrifying bus ride down Telegraph Hill by a bus driver who had gold hair gold eyelashes and gold fingernails which then reminds me of Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems which I bought the same day at City Lights Books.
I love those murals. We walked up and back and so missed a terrifying bus ride, but we did then go to City Lights and by poems, Lee’s “The City in Which I Love You” which is not nearly as appropriate as buying O’Hara’s poems there, but there you are.>>>Thanks for triggering those memories, golden girl.>>Scott
boredphuck said:
hey, this probably has no connection to what you posted, but i thought it’d be polite to ask your permission to link your blog through mine, its really been inspiring and though-provoking for me.>>and btw, are these paintings and done by you?
pghpoet said:
i’ve studied this and studied this. there is such energy in the way the pointing boy is extending his arm when i observe how the muscles clump and stretch–it conveys and energy, excitement– and of course, it’s because of the <>dame<> on the barge. lol..>>i don’t get the feeling she’s a corpse (as a similar mannequin drew that ghoulish association for me in the dumpster picture from your trip)- but rather that she’s a sun-worshipper, traveliing up a lazy river.>>what i am struck by most of all is the universal language of ‘tits’. >>lol….>>no matter where, no matter when, they send the mercury up the <>notice-meter<> real fast, and i would suppose the young men are indeed <>in hog heaven<> getting their free peek from a close railing.>– k.
tearful dishwasher said:
Karen->>Great read on this! Hog Heaven, indeed.>>Thanks as always.>>>>BoredPhuck->>Feel free to link, I’m glad you get something out of this place. The images are collages that I create using my own photographs and other images which I then either cut and paste with scissors and glue or work up in Photoshop.>>Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.>>>Scott
Radish King said:
I love this because it makes me think of the Diego Rivera inspired murals on the first floor of the Coit Tower, if those murals were to actually have a sense of humor, which then reminds me of having a blindly claustrophobic moment riding up that elevator with a man whose hair smelled of really sweet oil which then reminds me of a terrifying bus ride down Telegraph Hill by a bus driver who had gold hair gold eyelashes and gold fingernails which then reminds me of Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems which I bought the same day at City Lights Books.
tearful dishwasher said:
I love those murals. We walked up and back and so missed a terrifying bus ride, but we did then go to City Lights and by poems, Lee’s “The City in Which I Love You” which is not nearly as appropriate as buying O’Hara’s poems there, but there you are.>>>Thanks for triggering those memories, golden girl.>>Scott