Slamjam.

Creeping tentacles of the mind, reaching out to shift and twist the ever flowing, construct of corporeal worlds in creative expression of universal alchemy.

Slamjam.

Acrylic on canvas, 16"/20".

Big Giant Heads!

No, it's not William Shatner, but rather, the colossal stone heads of Easter Island!  Ever since I was a lad, this remote island populated by these monumental sculptures has retained my wonder in their mystery, and an unyielding respect for those who dedicated themselves to their shaping.  How old are they?  Who built them? What do they represent?  So many questions and theories to answer them, although with the discovery of bodies attached to the heads, it draws one to wonder at the potential span of time they have maintained their silent vigil.  How I would love to travel there someday, to feel the ancient stone beneath my hands and reach out with body and soul to those who, even now, retain the secret of their working.

Pen & Ink wash, 11/14"

DJH. 2014

Continuing from yesterdays post I add here a view of the legendary monument of Stonehenge.  Although many idolize this location, my own feelings whenever I've visited it are always melancholic.  A great sadness seems to hang over the stones as if bemoaning the desecration that continues in the wake of human ignorance.  I hope that someday we will rediscover the reverence such monuments deserve and treat them accordingly.

Pen & Ink 11/14"

Pentre Ifan.

One of my favourite places to go when I was a boy, was the rugged landscape of the Preseli hills with their bluestone outcrops that protrude from the earth like the bones of dragons.  A remnant of the volcanic mountains they used to be.  This area hums with an energy that is as strong today as it was in the days of our long dead ancestors who erected such monuments as the famous stonehenge.  Indeed, stones from this very area were transported hundreds of miles to be used within that great monument of ancient man.  Here however I present an ink and watercolour study of Pentre-Ifan, a Cromlech in the county of my birth that once was but the entrance to a larger communal burial mound.

Halcyon Moon.

Continuing my efforts with acrylics on canvas with Halcyon Moon.  Serene silvered orb nestled within the multifaceted layered  fossil of a fundamentally chaotic cosmos; what greater meaning can I expect when looking upon the colossal dome of the night sky during the rise of the spring moon!

D.

Acrylic on canvas (25.5"/30")

Talaquai.

Talaquai: Acrylic on canvas.
D. April.2014

Painting.

I cannot claim to have that much experience in painting, you might say I'm still a dabbler, uncommitted to the medium with brief episodes of sporadic experimentation.  This I am attempting to rectify with a new focus aimed at playing with acrylic on canvas.  I say playing because 'work' just doesn't capture the reverence for the process that I humbly equate with acts typically reserved for articles of faith.

The first piece I share I have named Talaquai.  Others I hope to share soon, and by soon I don't mean in intervals of months or years that has so far marked my progress.

With love.
  D.

Baby-Cuth.

I've recently taken it upon myself to do something with the mass of concept drawings strewn throughout the ever building stack of sketchbooks that I've collected over the years.  The design that has now become Baby-Cuth has been with me for at least a couple of years, if not longer.   It's nice to have finally done something with it.  Created in photoshop using my art-tablet; which I'm finally getting used to.

D.14

Roller Chick.

Was approached to do a small piece for a local Roller Derby team recently.  This provided me the perfect first image to be completed using the Bamboo art tablet I received a couple of birthdays ago (when I say it takes me a while to warm up to new tech, I aint kidding.)  There's more I could've done but decided to step away before my creative ocd could kick into full gear.

GRONGE!

Gronge.

Ok Orangey grey! I yell up hyonder,

Schemer of precipitous explosion!

Compound of the saqueous liquid,

Oer looking doombringer of hosts.

Sickly sinews looking on,

Sallow flesh rump an’ ripe,

Turned to torrid iron-bark,

Rung out used ol’ spunge.

Merryweather’s forecast so prime,

Plucked an’ fed to/as one’s desires,

Eaten as I eat of mine own heart,

In saqueous orgy of Desire.

Fellow fum my ol’ chum,

We play!

An on the day that we come out in fun,

To bash an’ burn an’ roll the way in dice.

The living gamble of every day,

We play an’ forget in temptuous fog!

A gambit a risk through action an’ thought,

We bet on those around us.

Look up an’ see o’ squibitwii,

Gaze upon this sqwueord thing that blocks,

Betrayer of this trusting pleading heart,

Begone I say you Grongy thing!

D.

Daniel James Holloway, September 2013.