beauty is its own excuse

in jeweled patterns, colors all, a stopping place for druther — for beauty is its own excuse, it really needs no other


Experience is manifold, Our senses intertwine; We struggle then, to reproduce By word or tale or sign The things that we’ve found beautiful, That caused our heart to melt – And find our sketches fall far short Of what we really felt

One Type of Artistic Fate

If I could paint a picture true Of sunny day, and waterfall, I’d surely give it then, to you, To hang up in your favorite hall I’d my pour my love into this art So you would see it, and recall — Then you’d walk by it, every day, And never look At all

thematic unity

he’s seen a winsome face that’s backed by ugliness; a place that’s called the world, a life of press and stress of grasping in the main, and clutching in the dark for things that are not ours, of lepton and of quark and mostly empty space. the challenge of the while: to paint the meaningful … Continue reading "thematic unity"


Norman Rockwell as a byword.