- 2018 Art Journal: A Documented Life
- 2017 Art Journal: A Documented Life
- 2016 Art Journal: A Documented Life
- #100 Day Project Creativity - 2017, Part 1 Days 1- 25
- #100 Day Project Creativity - 2017, Part 2 Days 26-50
- #100 Day Project Creativity -2017, Part 3, Days 51-75
- #100 Day Project Creativity -2017, Part 4, Days 76-100
- Portfolio: Color Images
- Portfolio: Black and White
- Art: Black Lives Matter
- Collage Journal 2014 Part I
- Collage Journal 2014, Part II
- Portfolio: Landscape
- 2015: New Art
- 2014: New Art
- Collage Journal 2012
Sunday, April 18, 2021
Saturday, April 17, 2021
This past week I made a few images in Branch Brook Park of the cherry blossoms. Below are some.
|Blossom 2 (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Blossom 3 (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Cathedral (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Lake (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Grove (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Reflection in Lake (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Blossom (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Dangling (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Blossoms 2 (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Cherry Blossom Trees (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Water Drop (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|The Photographer (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Out Walking (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
|Blossoms on Branch (4.21, Newark, NJ)|
Sunday, April 11, 2021
|Spring Thaw (M.A. Reilly, Ringwood, NJ)|
- by William Carlos Williams
The sky has given over
Out of the dark change
all day long
rain falls and falls
as if it would never end.
Still the snow keeps
its hold on the ground.
But water, water
from a thousand runnels!
It collects swiftly,
dappled with black
cuts a way for itself
through green ice in the gutters.
Drop after drop it falls
from the withered grass-stems
of the overhanging embankment.
Making art helps me to keenly focus. Whether it is with a camera, a paintbrush, pencils, or digitally—I get lost in the work for hours. I need this. Here are a few recent works and some re”found” work.
|“Sisters” (gesso, acrylic, crayon, found papers, Stabilo pencils, white marker, 2021)|
|“Old Man” (acrylic paint, digital manipulation)|
|Untitled (watercolor, Stabilo pencil, found papers, crossword puzzle, tissue, digital manipulation, 2021)|
|Two pages in journal ( gesso, acrylic paint, 2021)|
|untitled (gesso, acrylic paste, Stabilo pencil)|
|“Dreaming of Kurt Schwitters” (collage, torn paper, acrylic, newspaper, found papers, digital manipulation) |
|“Unmoored” (watercolor, marker, acrylic|
Saturday, April 10, 2021
One small truth emerged these last 13 months - art reminds me of how we are human, how we are in one another's care. In the aftermath, what seems to matter is how we cared for one another during the crisis, the challenge, the sorrow, the stress.
Sunday, April 4, 2021
|Wales (M.A.Reilly, May, 2014)|
EASTER MORNING IN WALES
— by David Whyte
A garden inside me, unknown, secret,
neglected for years,
the layers of its soil deep and thick,
trees in the corners with branching arms
and the tangled briars like broken nets.
Sunrise through the misted orchard,
morning sun turns silver on the pointed twigs,
I have woken from the sleep of ages and I am not sure
if I am really seeing, or dreaming,
or simply astonished
walking towards sunrise
to have stumbled into the garden
where the stone was rolled from the tomb of longing.
EASTER MORNING IN WALES
From RIVER FLOW: New and Selected Poems
© David Whyte and Many Rivers PressFrom ‘Time Left Alone’
In ‘River Flow: New and Selected Poems’
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
Saturday, April 3, 2021
Tuesday, March 30, 2021
These were images I made while riding the ferry into New York from New Jersey last Thursday. It has been too long since I spent a day making images. Hope you enjoy.
|Deep Fog (March 2021)|
|Ferry Arriving (March 2021)|
|NYC Skyline (March 2021)|
|Midtown (March 2021)|
|Hudson River and Statue of Liberty (March 2021)|
|Pier (March 2021)|
|Hudson River Shoreline (March 2021)|
|Hoboken Clock Tower (March 2021)|
|Hoboken Clock Tower from High Line (March 2021)|
Monday, March 8, 2021
|The Atlantic, early morning|
During the first week Rob was back home after 50 days in the hospital, I continued to try to save his life. It wasn’t until the Hospice nurse gently reminded that I no longer needed to check his oxygen level, that I startled and then began to see how hopeless such an act was. There would soon come a time when my husband no longer breathed. I carry with me the knowledge that I could not save Rob from so early a death. I carry it imprinted on my bones like a too sad Braille reader who has lost faith in method. Great loss is a way of being in the world and so is the necessary healing. Loss and healing remain special knowledge that has translated into empathy for others.
At first the replay of Rob's death ran like a movie I could not turn off. Now I cannot recall the specifics of his death--not certainly with the clarity I once did. Then slowly memories of earlier times with Rob began to replace the scene of death. I can recall the first time I dreamt of him and not his death. In the dream we are in Scotland. It is just a second of Rob at the shoreline of a loch with his long hair tied back and it is moving as he laughs at something our child had said.
Now, five years later, the memories of the days leading up to his death are more lone photographs of scenes of darkened faces lit by a flash.
I want to tell you five years later that loss and healing are tidy matters, but they are not. Both inform how I live. Now what saddens me most is seeing all the life that has happened in these last five years and knowing Rob missed it all. I am now older than Rob. I have lived on this planet longer than he did or ever will. All of this makes me feel for each of the 520,000 people who have died this year from COVID 19 and their families.
"How do you live in an age of bewilderment, when the old stories have collapsed and no new story has yet emerged to replace them?" asks Yuval Noah Harari.
It is that simple and that complicated.