Tag Archives: art

127. Troll (Humour conclusions)

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This is a pastel picture I did outside last summer, incorporating the weeds growing through the cracks in our patio. When we are using our contemplative sight or creative imagination with the goal of creating laughter, we are doing a good thing. I maintain that it is my sense of humour that has been one of the most vital spiritual weapons in my faith life. It helps me especially with my chronic illness and disability, and friends I’ve spoken to who’ve been or are going through tough things, say the same, that it is often humour that has got them through it. It is also one of the tools in our contemplative toolbox. We can apply it to almost anything we see, if we are using the right eyes. And it is also a help in keeping ego under control, bursting the bubbles of pride. It does us good to be self-deprecating with our sense of humour once in a while and remember that we too, can be laughable things.

Next up, we shall be looking at light.

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017

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116. Bert and Ernie (Humour 3)

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This is the fabulous Cubist painting my talented husband did (without working from any photos) of two of our favourite characters from Sesame Street. I absolutely love it! Taking something familiar and reworking it using another cultural style or vision is something we can only do with a very free and wide-ranging imagination. To merge two such different references tickles us, it is humorous precisely because it is so original and so unlikely a combination, as well as because something for children’s entertainment isn’t usually given a highbrow treatment.

In this way, we see humour, imagination and juxtaposition all contributing to our seeing – even as onlookers rather than as the artist. Similarly, just as this gives us an insight into Rowan’s inner world, we can find ourselves learning more about God’s character and thought processes when we see his creativity all around us. Can you really declare God without humour once you have seen a duck-billed platypus or watched a bird balancing on one leg? And doesn’t he very often tickle our funny bone by dressing up fools as kings?

text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017 Artwork copyright R R Wyatt, used with permission.

46. Sketch (potential)

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When I start a painting, the first stage is sketching it out. I need to make sure my placement on the paper is fairly accurate – the nose just the right distance below the eyes, that distinctive dimple in the right place, that patch of yellow feathers, that twinkle in the beady eye.  If one little thing is wrong, the whole will be skewed. In this way our starting places are as much a part of the finishing as they are of the beginning, and our sketches need to comprise the vision of the end whole in all its essentials.

 

Photo, text and artwork © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2017 artwork from a reference photo by Lawrence Splitter, used with permission.

 

Just in case you wanted to see the end product:

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189: Gallery

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Tucked away treasures, walls dripping with gems in slow oil and running in watercolour. Tints mixed with time and talent, hidden under this bushel. Find us then, and carry us home, gaze on our given glory. But do not keep us under wraps, gathering no dust in your collection box, pinned like butterflies, paralyzed by formaldehyde frames, never to breathe the free air again. For to live we must dazzle you with the subtle play of motes in the sunlight bouncing off our surfaces, moonwalking in the craters of creation, and like you, we must sing the songs we were given.

 

 

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from morguefile.com

 

164: Canyon

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Here on the paper, making marks of meaning, searching for the apposite line, the brushed path of an errant hair. A painted bridge that inks or powders its way across the blank canyon. Eyes closed, seeing open, gearing up for the leap to the other side, letting the gap stand. No attempt at joining, no plastering here, only the struggle to express the two unmeeting tides as we walk unnerved across a fraying tightrope. The moment soon beyond, blood and sweat dripping into other paradoxes. A second sheet unfolds and the rock rolls back to the tabla rasa valley floor.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from morguefile.com