Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label artist. Show all posts

Monday, November 4, 2013

The lifetime achievement haiku

Pointed hats, pointed
people in undershirts and
different attire.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2013)

First haiku in the artists haiku series.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Mademoiselle Rivière et moi


This week, Inspire Me Thursday suggested taking Ingres' painting Mademoiselle Caroline Rivière and going to work on it. Which is exactly what I did, doing some digital magic involving a photo of yours truly.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Intrepid little bird


Intrepid Little Bird (2006)
Acrylic on kraft paper

Inspire Me Thursday's proposition for this week was:
Action Painting

This week let us be inspired by Action Painting, a “style of painting in which paint is spontaneously dribbled, splashed or smeared onto the canvas, rather than being carefully applied.” Think Jackson Pollock, the American Abstract Expressionist painter who was fond of huge canvases on the floor, applying paint with a stick or other objects, using a ‘drip’ technique, walking around the canvas, being ‘in the painting.’

I was immediately reminded of a series of paintings I did in 2006, for which I partially used a drip technique. What I call "Intrepid Little Bird" above is just a small section of a larger painting done with a combination of dripping and rolling.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Thursday, February 15, 2007

He acted like God come down to earth

Having the great writer at my house was not all that enjoyable. We talked more about his aches and pains, sensitive bowels and eyes than about the wonderful novels and poems he’d written or future plans of his. That is, he talked. In the afternoon he wanted to go for a walk and headed back home five minutes later as a light rain came down. He asked for homeopathic ulcer medication and a light vegetarian meal, of which he devoured three servings. He also scarfed down most of the chicken korma I’d fixed for myself. I had originally planned to show him some of my own poems (in all humility), but abstained from it because my head was aching from all his talk. Two more days I’ll have this man around, I thought in desperation.

– Surendra Sparsh

(Sparked by a real experience with one who knew himself to be a great artist.)