BEAUTY

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder...
I, as an artist, see it everywhere,

In the porosity of old wood,
the wrinkles of an old woman,
the immaculate skin of a new born,
the geometric perfection of a spiders web.

The examples of beauty in this world
are endless.
Bur open to interpretation
and I, for one, find perfection
in imperfection.

As Jesus found good in all
the imperfect disciples he chose,
I find perfection in the mish mash
of the world around me.

The leaves randomly falling on the lawn,
the trees growing where they like,
the squirrels and lizards abounding
wherever they wish.

Ants scampering up plants
with great industry,
going where is unknown,
but they know.

All is beauty...
and when I finally realized that,
I became peaceful.

NEW OFFERINGS

http://Smitty01.imagekind.com/

Please See My Offerings on eBay

I will be posting new offerings of ACEO's on eBay periodically. Please feel free to view them. And thank you.

LONELY OR LONESOME

Am I lonesome
or am I lonely,
and what
is the difference?

Look it up
and you will see,
as did I,
there is none...

One's as bad
as the other
and neither
is good.

the synonym
for lonesome
is lonely
and vice-versa.

So semantically
both are right
but both
are dead wrong.

FOREVER

Forever is....forever
and ever and ...ever
and whenever we're together,
never EVER say "never".

AGE

Age is a great mischief maker.
Not only does it play havoc with our minds and bodies,
but with our perceptions too.

What matter the age of a soul
who compliments yours in every way.
Whose very existence is meaningful to you.

And why does gender have any bearing on age.
Woman can be younger but man can't?
Age is not logical.

The age of two people has nothing to do with
what they cherish in each other.
But, oh no, not according to age!

If relationships work, so be it.
Love and adore no matter what....
especially no matter.....age.

PHANTOM

Where are you?
Right there in front of me?
Or somewhere else
That I cannot see.

I speak, you respond
We hold conversation.

Is there in your eye
a fog, a haze
a shadow of far away
while mine are a'blaze

with longing
and adulation.

You look at me;
your look says yes.
yet I wonder if
I am more or less

a substitute
for someone unseen

Oh, you're there.
I can touch and feel
the only you I can have
and that's not real

The real you
is only in my dream.

BACK TO THE MOUNTAIN

 

For a long time my abode
was on a level plain
where round and round I strode
looking up and down again.

Wondering where I should go
and pondering where I'd been.
You'd think that I would know
the difference 'tween good and sin.

But down in the valley I went
to grovel in the muck.
To all appearences, hell bent,
and without any semblance of luck

Back to the plain once more,
a respite in the plan,
with happiness galore
and really being a man.

Only to slip and slide
with my eyes heavenward,
always up from where I abide,
as if I were a free-flying bird.

So, to the mountain my steps
took me from down below
and I rested from my attempts
to find a place to go.

But good things, it seems,
are not for me to gain,
except in my dreams,
down again, yet I retain...

the thought that it will come,
that day when once again
I will return where I come from,
Back to the Mountain.

JUDAS' LAST SUPPER

 
I wondered how Judas felt as he was offered the wine and bread, knowing what he knew. I created this in Iconism, the cup, bread and board are all crosses and Judas is being engulfed
in "6"s the symbol of evil.

*GOIN'S ON*: ICONISM

Remember me!

This is"Dismas" the good thief begging that Jesus remember him when He came into His kingdom. I'ts done in some Iconism with his loincloth and the cross made up of crosses.


*GOIN'S ON*: ICONISM

FISHER OF MEN

 


This one is of Peter and the water is made of the water sign~, rocks are thorns, loin cloth is crosses, and the NET is made up of tiny fish, apropos of the net's use and the sympol of the early church.

*GOIN'S ON*: ICONISM

ICONISM

Iconism is a term I came up with for a style of drawing I invented. Pen and Ink work is usually done in dots, slashes and crosshatching. I figured, why couldn't those marks on the paper be different? Why couldn't they reflect a meaning to go along with the subject of the drawing? My answer was, "They could!" So I came up with a series of marks that, in themselves, had meaning. In the series of drawings below, you will find the marks ">", "~","T","O", and others such as tiny fish and 6's. These are all spiritual drawings, because the technique lends itself to that subject. The first one is the first one I ever did with this technique and thus, ICONISM was born. Using icons for the marks in a pen and ink drawing.


The first one is entitled, "Forgive Them" and it was my conception of Jesus praying for the world. The rocks are made up of thorns, as the earth is a thorny place to live. His loin cloth is made of crosses. The sky is made of "tears" both watery and bloody. And His body is made of circles which denote "everlasting" and "everlasting love".

A PERFECT WORLD

In a perfect world...
almost sounds like an oxymoron,
but perfect things would become unfurled,
and strife and fear we would not dwell on.

A perfect world
we would meet the right person,
and they would love us
without exclusion.

In a perfect world
all loves would be right
and the absence of love
would be banned to the night.

For in daylight
is the only time
that love can show it's might,
without reason or rhyme.

In a perfect world
we all would fit
with the one we were created for
and love would be all
and that would be it.

In a perfect world...oh well
it's nice to dream , but not dwell
on what could/should be
'cause "perfect" is beyond you and me.

QUIET ONE

"Vanity, vanity, all is vanity",
so said wise old Solomon.
And it's plain to me...
it affects all and is very common.

"Men don't make passes
at girls who wear glasses".
So announced the school yard bards.
Oh they certainly were cards.

And the kid that wore the hearing aid
was thought to be the dumbest of all
and for this he drearily paid
as they shouted to make him feel small.

For glasses were something that were all around,
but for him, because there was no sound
he stood out from all the rest,
and every day had to give it his best.

For the stigma attached to his affliction
made no sense, but was the addiction
of those whose understanding
was like their brains: undemanding.

And so he goes softly on his way
as others around pursue their play,
while he, in his own quiet space,
picks up his feet and joins the race.

LOOKIN' BACK TO SEE

This is one of my favorite pictures. It has been sold and is in the loving hands of a person who will treasure it as much as me. But, it has become almost my trademark.

This is available on eBay as an ACEO art card.

A GENTLE AFFAIR

Soft...

A pitter-patter

of loves wee feet

without clatter.

Soft...

a skitter-skatter

of words so neat

that nitter-natter.

Soft...

a teeny-tiny

feather's brush

sleek and shiny.

Soft...

a tippy-toeing,

a teardrops touch,

warm and flowing.

Soft...

a thumpety-thumping,

a beating heart,

the life force pumping.

Soft...

a dripping-dropping

when lovers part

and heart is stopping.

Soft...

a slippery-slipping

of hands withdrawn

when lovelight's dipping.

Soft...

a chitter-chatter

for love is gone

and life can't matter.

CRITIC

Art's in the eye of the beholder (or so I've heard)
But everyone hasn't gotten the word.
What to one eye has added a beam,
To another there is no gleam.

For opinions are alimentary
They're something everyone has.
What to one is praise elementary
To another is so much gas.

But remember: artists are fragile.
For the most part they work for praise.
And no matter if the critic is agile,
Down will be down in a daze.

Art should be studied and enjoyed.
No matter the style or skill.
From everything you can be buoyed.
And from everything you will......

If the next time you view a piece,
(Presuming one comes down the pike)
You accept it with awe and ease;
And not: "I know what I like."

ACEO's On Ebay

ACEO's are art cards 2 1/2 x 3 1/2 inches. They can be either originals or prints. Here are a few I have posted on Ebay. And a link to one of them. They seem to be scattered all over since I haven't learned all of the system yet.

http://search.ebay.com/_W0QQsassZsmitty01.561

IN THE END

Who's right,
Who's wrong,
sings the song
of many a wordy sage.

When faced with life
and all it's strife
they're stuck
on that archaic page.

It matters not who's wrong,
who's right,
when all
is said and done.

What matters in the end
and this is true, my friend,
is who is still standing,
and with integrity, has won.

BAGS

I sit at my window watching

can't do anything else since
trying to fly from a bike....
collarbone and shoulder blade
kaput.

Recuperating, I sit and watch
from my cottage window
the old landlady as she goes
to and fro, on her way.

Visitors come and she
greets them in the patio,
at a table under an umbrella...

Never inside, oh no...
Never inside.

They come and she meets,
comes out with packages,
and they leave with same.
Always the same,

They come, she meets,
gives packages and they leave.
Never inside, never inside.

Rent day comes and I
knock upon the screen door
in the rear.

I call out.
No answer.
The door is not locked,

in I venture, calling,
and stepping into the kitchen...
I see.....

bags all over the floor.
on the table, on the fridge.
bags, with a narrow path
leading to the front,

which I take, calling.
Dining room...
bags all over
living room, calling,
bags on every flat surface
to be had.

Bags EVERYWHERE...
filled with.... beauty items!
On every table, chair, all over the floor,
bags...
filled with....soap, lotions, perfumes,

all peeking out of the top and...
the only thing competing for my attention
is the overwhelming smell of CATS.

Permeating the house is the all pervading aroma
of cat piss, etc.
They creep between the bags,
meowing happilly in their jungle of...
bags.

There is a path leading to the stairs
going up, but...
I'm not about to venture there.
I backtrack quietly....

musing upon the reason
she never brings anyone
inside....never...
Bags!

They come and she goes in.
brings out things from her
bags, and they go.

From one end of the house
to the other and probably
upstairs....
bags.

To this day...whenever I start
accumulating "stuff"
and it seems to pile up,

I must clean it up,
throw it out,
get rid of it,
before I become an ....

Avon Lady.

OFFSPRING OF MY SOUL

The first stirrings
yes a touch
ever so slight
but there, nevertheless.

A squirm
a glimmer
a moment
of conception.

Then the wait
endless it seems
but you know
fruition will come.

And it does
with pain
anguish
agony it seems,

But come it does
kicking, writhing
screaming
into the world

And then.....
release,
pleasure
as I gaze fondly....

at my new poem...

The offspring of my soul.

Sunfest

Well, here I am at Sunfest. Below are some of the artwork on display and pictures of the scenery.