Posts tagged arts
Building Moxie Does Mid-Century Esoteric with Modern 50
8April 7, 2011
It is funny how these things come to pass . . . . What exactly qualifies me, a home improvement-type dude, to interview a purveyor of fine vintage goods, an artist by fact -- Dino Paxenos at Modern50. Let's just say one thing leads to another, which leads to another, which reminds you of something earlier that you had meant to follow up on. And . . . About two years after that discussion -- Dino's business thriving, and I get a not-often-granted interview. Thanks and enjoy. [ . . . ]
Ana M. Manzo :: Emotional Architecture
17August 26, 2010
It takes a lot of courage to open our hearts and express to the world how we feel at any given time, especially if the emotions that invade us, at that particular time, are negative. Some, those who dare, express themselves by crying, screaming, laughing, talking. But there are those too, who display emotion through creative expression (sometimes even unconsciously).[ . . . ]
Paul Lesieur :: Until We Built It . . . (Thats Moxie)
2June 8, 2010
Today its raining and gloomy but not sad, but since its poetry day here's what I did last night for my own blog, but I think it fits better here. [ . . . ]
Weddings, Funerals, Stop Signs and Stars
4
There is a line in a They Might Be Giants song which goes: If it weren't for disappointments, I wouldn't have any appointments. And while I cannot possibly claim that this is true in my own life, still it hurts to be sucker punched by fate. I am going to leave out the particulars of my situation and say only that I was waiting on some good news which turned inside out. I must have been feeling this way back in 1987 when I wrote the following: [ . . . ]
About Face
5
This picture was taken on a sunny afternoon. It captures the shadow of a model ship on a window ledge. I also see in it a woman's face. I go through periods when I see faces everywhere. Trees are a great at making faces and so is old peeling paint. I ask myself Why faces?
The Show must go on
I spent the better part of my twenties in an independent theatre company. As a group we were very in tune with one another. I felt myself part of a tribe. I seem to seek out this sense of belonging although I know it cannot be conjured. The chemistry which makes a group work is as mysterious as faces which appear from nowhere. [ . . . ]
