THE WITCHING HOUR

On a cold misty eve the darkness comes alive with the pagan ways. Glorifying the earth it's richness. Giving alms to what nourishes us. Here are two beauties in their black dresses to match the night. Under the midnight sky they stand another cylce has ended another beings, to which they give thanks. The earth , sky, moon and air are the reality of life. To bless these two beauties go about their business with none aware of there being. In falling darkness above their heads ,and fog about their feet. They reach out into the midnight hour to cast their faith in human kind. To cast a spell is no longer the way but to do unto others as you would unto to your self.

12"x17" encaustic on paper

Molten Art At Etsy

I have just begun a new site on Etsy to promote my work and to sell.
I have been creating art since 1991.

I consider my self an outsider artist, i paint to fulfill my emotional roller coaster to life's ups and downs. I am so moody like the tides of the sea never knowing where there might be an under current to take me down low. Struggling to get up for a breath. My breath is the upliftment of mood that creating art brings to me, from the movement to hands to the motion of color floating upon a solid surface.

My art takes many forms from realistic to abstract to spiritual and primitive.
From paints to air dry clay to fabric.

Light My FIRE

I am consumed by a burning desire to paint with fire, lite my works and watch them curl, see the radiance of flames dancing on pyre . The heat urges me on grabbing yet onother piece of paper placing a burning iron upon pigment searing the surface, sizzling sounds grind the pigments into it's surface marking it as a new found memory. Heated iron burns the hand that holds it, molten pigment runs down the fingers piercing them with pain, the stench of flesh can be detected, flaking pigment and flesh pull away as one.

Paper after paper is grabbed in a mad frenzy to contitune as fire is raging, no longer do the fingers feel the pain, nor does the olfactory sense the burnt flesh, the eyes catch glimmers of pigment as they coo,l the inner being that is called soul is captured in rapture by what fire has brought forth into creation by it's raging force upon this human source of power.

This creator is driven by desire (fire) to heat up it's inner source of natural creativity, which there is no escape until it places paper beneath it's digits to burn and grind pigment, the optical sense of arousel occurs as an abstract scene appears.

A woman consumed by passion not of her own but one that encompasses her inner being not controlling but guiding her into a world of reality where color and form project a reality more real than what her 6 senses can describe.