Saturday, 24 December 2011

Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Ceiling Mural

Last year I undertook a project that for me, was beyond anything I had taken on previously.  For one, it was to paint an angelic mural on a ceiling, for two, it was to be colourful.  As you can obviously see from works posted so far, my range has been somewhat monochrome, a trend I have been attempting to veer away from in the past year in order to add a bit more scope to the copious visuals dancing around inside my head.

I think next time I will attempt to acquire actual models that on working solely out of my head.  Still, it's been received well, which for me is the true reward.

Saturday, 17 December 2011

The Lady

Poem; Fields of Duality.

Fields of Duality.

Contained in Mind,
A Universe of Being,
Unrestrained consciousness,
A river of eternity.

Contained in Body,
A Universe of Being,
Encompassing flesh,
Fruit of Creation.

Unity in Mind and Body,
Pleasures unbounding,
Blissful union,
Ecstasy of Spirit.

Awareness of Self,
Attainment unto God,
Progressive evolution,
Fruit of the soul.

Plucked and consumed,
Continuance of Being,
Recycled of Body,
New life of death.

Consciousness reborn,
Continuance of Spirit,
Rebirthing of flesh,
Flame in the dark.

D. 09

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

Anne Boleyn

Taken from a painting, done in charcoal.  Known as that unfortunate queen of Henry VIII.

Monday, 12 December 2011

My Gran.

Recently I did a sketch of my gran who passed away earlier this year from an old photo taken of her in her youth.  Following is also a poem I wrote in the weeks following her passing, an expression of how I felt on the subject.

Day Player.

In the vastness that is our Universe,
I am but a forgotten cameo upon the reels of time,
My place is as a player; enacting anew each day,
The sordid truth of our lives.

With each new curtain fall renewed applause,
Great joy of the celestial one’s O Princes of Heaven,
Well does our farce amuse and delight you,
Recollection of forgotten pain.

See how I praise this ending as I look to new beginnings,
With Dawn’s curtain rising will come another play,
The act of another living day,
Another life’s record for the pyre.

Woe be this hypocratic eternity forever undressing,
Enacted anew with each new day; mirror of the past,
With each new pyre the flaming seed,
Conception of the Dawn.

With each new burning the Nightfire’s dancing,
Alighting a play of their own devising,
Inspiration afire as flames do dance about the pyre,
Their dance pure worship of forever,
The burning truth of us all.

D. 11

Sunday, 11 December 2011

King Tut

I did this charcoal piece about 10 years back, based on the funeral mask of king Tut.  There is however a proposed theory that the mask was originally intended for his father Akhenaten (Amenhotep IV.)

Saturday, 10 December 2011

Thursday, 8 December 2011

Henry VII

This is a charcoal historical portrait of Henry Twdwr (Tudor,) the father of that most notorious of British monarchs Henry VIII.  This being Henry VII.

Wednesday, 7 December 2011


As much as I feel like a Man from Mars most of the time, or rather an extraterrestrial in general stranded on a primitive world, I must concede that I am sadly, just another human being seeking to come to terms with the implication of his own sentience.  That said, I love to read science-fiction and after reading that most famous book by H.G.Wells 'War of the Worlds' I took it upon myself to illustrate my own concept of what the Martians look like, following faithfully the description within the book itself.  The result I present here.

Art of Life.

When it comes down to that much repeated question of 'what is art?' I usually refer to my own philosophy on Life, Death and everything that exists between.  For as much that art represents as a medium for individual creative expression of one's observation of the world surrounding us and within us, it presents also a practical metaphor for living as it does creating.

Art after all, is not something we should wish to see neatly cataloged in the ever extensive list of labels and definition that compound and complicate the social consensus of identity and individual relationship within the Universe.  It is something that is free from this, a freedom that we can all tap into should we truly wish to realize it, rather than the boxed in conceptualization that plague so many of us.  I suppose this may illuminate why so many within the creative vein may seem a little 'different' to others, for we are not constrained solely by social convention.  Such represents a freedom dreamed of by the majority yet realized by those who understand the internal drive to take it and express it rather than simply sit by and hope someone hands it to us.

Yes, I am an artist and I am free; simply because I deem myself to be.  This is my God-given right, and something I will not relent, for to do so would undermine the primary fundamentals of my life, my Art.

Art:  The active application of self expression upon the blank canvas that is my life.  Mine to do with as I Wilt, a personal journey that as much combines all those intermingling aspects that make up this somewhat chaotic and abstracted psyche of mine.  Upon this canvas I put it all, my philosophy, my spirituality, interests, observations, hopes, dreams, fantasies and the multitude of quirky ideas that either endear or repel those who deign to take a peek.  Sometimes I'll draw on it, at others I'll paint or sculpt; no matter the chosen medium of the moment the artists palette is limitless, from pigment to words and musical notes that aid in the expounding upon this simplistic of concepts into a cornucopia of the beauty of human expression.

deHoleweia.  2011