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Hi. Thanks for visiting! I’m abby :) …

I dabble in drawing, photography, and various conglomerations of the two. call these things “Art,” call these things pseudo “art-esque” doodlings, call them “art, my-arse” utterly meaningless deductive drivvel.

Call it what you will, essentially. But-Whatever sort-of image happens to strike your soul, your fancy, your heart, your whatever part that most purely resonates-like a bell ringing true deep within you- i think this is real art.

And whatever rare, precious image takes you aback, leaves you in awe, or just genuinely makes you feel, anything at all- in a way that stirs some lost, forgotten, or yet-to-be-discovered beauty deep within you to awaken, to be-moved, to arise wide-eyed from the darkling still of our soul’s dimminuendo towards sleep- i think this, too, must be true art.

I think it’s a question of who you are and what captivates you- what invokes a sense of connection, awakens a feeling, causing some hardened-part of your heart to crack- just a little…just enough to let a little light shine-on… You crazy diamond, you : )

When an image intuitively resonates with you, in a way that, for a few seconds at least, alters the shape and shifts the light of your inner landscape…making you feel something, or anything more deeply, i call that art.

My underlying issue here, is that i could never just proclaim myself to be an “artist.” It’s not really a self-issued title, i don’t think. or a “Hello! I’m ____” fill-in the blank sticky-label. But people do it. A lot… Maybe i need a healthier ego.

Or maybe i need to stop quibbling over abstract semantics & direct my squabbling towards greater concerns; it might be nice if, like maybe we could eventually get-around to freeing Tibet…just for example. But i mean, god-forbid no-rush or anything. Just- nevermind. You get my point…

again, a big thank-you to everyone (if indeed, there is anyone) which i realize there probably isn’t, and i’m talking (like a mental patient) to myself, and to no one…

But! I’d like to hope that somewhere out-there listening is ONE…just ONE, similarly  strange, singularly lovely, and utterly extraordinary SOMEbody.

YOU ‘Somebody,’ mean more to me than ANYbody,

So thanks, buddy  :)

.abby :.

CSC_2275
“…still, what i want in my life- is to be willing to be dazzled. To cast aside the weight of facts,

and maybe, perhaps- to float

just slightly above this difficult world.”

  • Mary Oliver

 

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Sigh… epically. (One must ALWAYS sigh epically.)
anyway, i hope you enjoy my art (and aren’t too terribly irritated by all my silly writing, pseudo-poems and general glossolalia). But i’d love-it if you stayed awhile and took a look around.

I hope you leave here in a better mood than when you first entered. I suppose that’s probably a part of what i’m hoping to do here. because sometimes, feeling “better,” or even, just trying to feel “okay..at least for the time-being,” are simply too difficult, too out-of-reach, too beyond our own will’s current capacity to grasp, Especially if we don’t have other people’s empathy- that sense of communal human understanding, to comfort and embolden us with an extra “oomph” of soul-spark we all need to feel truly wide-eyed and whole and fully alive. it’s simply human-nature to need eachother; none of us can do-it alone.

so, whoever you are, just know that you’re never alone. Other than that, i just wish you the very best of luck- wherever you are out-there, wandering the earth in this bewildering world, one amongst all-of-us similarly strange and utterly beautiful monsters.
again, thanks :)
– abby *

 

Note: This is a poem. Hence, the rhyming-thing is entirely intentional. i just didn’t want you to be concerned :)

We may so often glimpse,

but so rarely can we hold

these ciphers cast in amber-fire dayglo.

shadows perceived as mere hypnagogic echo-light ,

for insight speaks a language known only by the soul-

symbols still-framed in flash-bulb brilliance-

like a moth’s dazzled gasp, or a pale-fire ghost,

hoping to re-ignite those wide-eyed-fires our hearts ache for the most.

those things we had that made us happy,

so very long ago,

those things we lost somewhere back there,

or left behind? cast aside? Did we spare a blink before releasing our hold?

were we ever SO young- too young to regret our unscathed hearts yet to start bleeding,
when we were whole, unbearably light, and life felt breathless and beating,

and there was a restless beauty awaiting discovery,

a sense of grace in all of life’s unknown-

but now looking-back, we shoulda coulda woulda really wished we’d known:

that there are parts of life you must cherish- certain things you don’t let-go

…and the rest of life? These other things are best held lightly-

all-things fade, “mono no aware,” “this too shall pass,” so

“go with the flow,” read “the art of letting-go,”

learn to distinguish the sound of your voice from impostors of ego.

but amidst all of this letting, losing, going, flow, there’s one thing our hands must hold,

never let Who-You-Are fade-away or slip from your grasp,

keep it clasped tight to your chest- because once it’s gone, you can’t get-it back.

It’s these precious unspeakables that slip-away so silently,

without the slightest “peep,” this moment of our heart’s detachment,
the moment we stop “Seeing” and the soul falls asleep,

but some of us get lucky enough to fall-

fast and far so finally to break

(it has to be hard to re-start the heart and slap-us awake)

That’s when we get that second chance-

numbness gives way to melancholy, a newfound “dust as quintessence,” kind-of human empathy.

an empty ache shaped by the contours of absence.

That’s the Happy Ending, anyway. But its the only end i can envision,

for some it takes a lifetime, to end at “Happy” once again-

….for others, merely an instant:

a disaster, a loss, some miracle or gobbstopping vision,

and that’s all it takes for us to fall, to break, to splinter

like a singular beam of pure-white light suddenly crashing through a prism-

to awaken as from a dream fractured- a kaleidoscopic collision

a rainbow awaits at the end of every catastrophe,

to glean from the wreckage still-reeling-

its the BEAUTIFUL DISASTER reflected in our mirrorball shattered

that bewilders and delights and creates us anew

blinking-awake with the dazzle of light that seems to illuminate,

or even originate- somewhere inside you.

in the end, what we deem “True” is at the mercy of hope-

a force that is truly unstoppable-

for at heart, we’re all visionaries, creators, and dreamers
our imaginations careen beyond logics’ brink to dream the impossible-

So-moved are we all by these God-lights colossal,

that we can let-go for awhile of our “all-too-human”

hold on so-called truths before we turn

towards the unbounded numinal-

to spin-up and out of ourselves in becoming something Chimerical

something weightless, winged and Greater than ourselves

overtaken by wildness once-more for a momentary miracle,

as brightly-glanced will-o-the-wisps,

wild and flying in breathless hope upwards,

Up, Out. and Gone-

with wild-eyes’ hypnotized in hope and blinding bright-sight of the Luminal..

Boo-ya.

i.e. “The End.”


And Now . . . More Artwork. By Me. Abby.
Quoth The Raven, ” Why, Hello Lenore. “The Abandoned Planet of Microscopia
Empathy
” Do not go gentle into that good night – Rage, Rage Against the Dying of The Light. ” – Dylan Thomas

What We Lost At The Carnival. . .

” Mono no Aware ”

 

this tree called Life which grows higher than mind can hide or soul can hold. and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart. i carry your heart- (i carry it in my heart) -e.e. cummings

” this is the root of the root, and the bud of the bud
and the sky of a sky,
of this tree called life- which grows,
higher than mind can hide or soul can hold.
and this is the wonder that is keeping the stars apart-
i carry your heart ( i carry it in my heart) ”
– e.e. cummings

This Too Shall PassimageCSC_227520140310-161715.jpgimageimageimage
” Hush…” hummed the sky, “for ALL of this shall pass-us by.”

 

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