Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Art.

The Art of Love. Top Story - July 2023.
“The world is but a canvas to our imagination.” Henry David Thoreau I love art. In all forms. It has been a constant through painting, music, writing, and woodworking. Art, in all its forms, is how I express myself and process my own emotions. My house is full of paintings, wooden art, furniture, and tapestries. Some I have painted. I even have one my husband painted, probably the only painting he has ever done. In his words, he is not artistic.
By J. Delaney-Howe3 years ago in Art
From Below the Cloud
Here, on this cloud. No better place to be, than here, on this cloud. To look down below and see my love, who once loved me, walking along the green hills with another man’s hand in hers. But saying another man would be incorrect. For here, laying on this cloud and speaking, is a being of half-man half-animal. My legs replaced with a beast’s hind legs of burnt umber colored fur and hooves clicking instead of calm flat feet. And when my hands brush the delicate waves of the hair on my head, the curled horns bar my fingers. I am strong, that is true, but inside I am as soft as the faint song heard from a Blue Bird singing far within the spring-morning mountains. And the only way the people hear this song, is not when they look at me or hear me speak like an ordinary man speaks, it is when I play. When I press my lips gently against the wooden flute and pour all that is within me out through the wooden holes, then, out comes my song. A sad song. A song of loneliness and of love never felt and given, and acceptance never received. And when the people are in town and can hear this song playing in the distance, they follow it. Follow it through the village, across the bridge and up towards the green hills. And then they see me. Me, playing this song. And no matter how sweet the song is and how far they have traveled to be close to it, when they see me all the curiosity and delight on their faces disappear and they hurriedly walk away, leaving me alone to play my sad song.
By Katheleen3 years ago in Art
Five Stages of Grief
I. Denial When her father died, she denied. She denied him her tears and affection because she wanted to appear strong. She wanted to prove that she would be alright without him, that she wouldn’t become the fragile, weepy stereotype of a grieving daughter - because she knew how much he hated stereotypes! Instead of kind words, she would pick fights with him. She thought she was doing the right thing. If he was angry at her, at least he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. But he didn’t understand. He died thinking she no longer loved him.
By Morgan Rhianna Bland3 years ago in Art
The Artistry of Painted Prose: Engaging the Senses through Vivid Descriptions
Section 1: The Essence of Painted Prose Painted prose, often referred to as descriptive prose, is a literary technique that emphasizes the use of vivid and expressive language to create immersive imagery and evoke sensory experiences. Unlike bare-bones prose that focuses solely on conveying information, painted prose infuses narratives with vibrant colors, textures, sounds, smells, and tastes. It engages the reader's senses, transporting them into the heart of the story and allowing them to experience its world on a deeper level. Through carefully chosen words and detailed descriptions, authors paint a vivid canvas in the reader's mind, transforming mere words into an art form.
By Ndlangamandla Thulasizwe3 years ago in Art
Unrestrained Desire
A young artist by the name of Gamardi found himself lured by the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa while wandering the busy streets of contemporary Paris. He was overcome by a wave of emotions when she cast a curious look his way. Gamardi set out on a path that would combine fiction, dishonesty, and the depths of infatuation after being inspired by her allure.
By Gloria Anderson3 years ago in Art
Hundreds of Fields, Hundreds of Canvases
Paris. 1874. Olivia sits in a field, before a canvas. She has sat in hundreds of fields, before hundreds of canvases, over a period of hundreds of years. By now, the brushstrokes come as easily as breathing: the force of three centuries of habit. But never before has she tried to keep the motions so loose; to lay on the paint so thick and ridged. Never has she aimed to capture the view as her eye sees it, nakedly and without interpretation—in blocks of color and in fleeting impressions of movement.
By Emma Gardner3 years ago in Art
Uncle Willie
My uncle was always famous. At least in our house he was. His name was William James Thomas Jr. Which was his stage name. Yeah, he had a stage name his entire life. His real name was William Omar Jones, but he said that didn't have enough pop. He also said the Jr always makes you sound more important. That someone wanted to make sure people knew you belonged to them.
By Tyrone Livingston3 years ago in Art
The David
It was late, but the gallery was still full of people, women and men alike, in very fine clothes. The women tossed back heads covered in pearls, let long silken dresses tangle around their heels as they walked, and the men, in dark suits, were mainly responsible for holding the arms of their ladies and acting as an accessory to their beauty.
By Amelia3 years ago in Art
Attack of the Space Insect
It was a cold winter night in 1965. I was wearing my pajamas and snuggling with Daddy on the couch watching a Christmas special on TV when a high-pitched, piercing noise immediately distracted us from our show. I followed Daddy into the front yard. In the dark night sky, we saw a huge mass. It looked like a giant insect with a long stinger aimed directly at us.
By Joyce O’Day3 years ago in Art
Love & Cherish
I saw this picture at an indoor swap meet and was immediately drawn to it. This isn't even the type of art I would normally look at, but it was so beautiful and powerful that this piece just tugged at me. I couldn't keep my eyes off of it. After my husband hung it on the wall in our room, I would lie in bed and stare at it as I drifted to sleep. I would wonder; how did they get to this moment? Their love for each other is so deep. Sometimes I would paint a small story in my mind about them. Hopefully I do this picture justice and give it a story well matched.
By Katherine Dockery3 years ago in Art
Taliaferro Sebastian: Thee Art God Interview W/ S.Y.S.M. Podcast
Taliaferro Sebastian, an esteemed artist hailing from Dayton, Ohio, is known for his unique vision and artistic prowess. Recently, he engaged in a captivating interview with the S.Y.S.M. podcast, where he shared intriguing anecdotes about his recent exhibitions in Cincinnati and Cleveland, as well as his upcoming shows. Taliaferro's artistic journey has taken him across numerous states, countries, and even into the lives of celebrities, leaving an indelible impact on his career and the individuals who experience his art. This blog post delves into the interview's highlights, shedding light on Taliaferro's extraordinary path as an artist.
By Curtis Johnson3 years ago in Art
In The Chariot
Come closer, come closer... Not like you are just gonna walk away and leave me all alone with these other hideous pieces and too much fluorescent light, are you? Stay a while...
By Kendall Defoe 3 years ago in Art