BIRTH OF A SEEDPaid for by The Animal-Free Chef, AFC GLOBAL and/or Word Warrior GLOBAL. Till now and forever © Sharon Lee Davies-Tight. Share freely with proper credit. "Change the world by changing yourself. You're in the future already. Now what? You determine your outcome."
Okay, I know it isn’t raining inside and frankly I don’t know what motivated me to buy a bunch of umbrellas and position them over some of the paintings, but I did, and I like the look. It gives me the feeling of being in a new place.
No, I’m not superstitious about umbrellas or anything else, that’s probably why I could have fun with it.
It’s distressing that people want to go to heaven to reclaim the power they didn’t have on earth.
If you can change the world from heaven, don’t you think we’d be in a better spot by now?
Why wait for uncertainty?
Claim your power here. Change the world now – by changing yourself into a likeness you admire.
ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN? If it’s exactly the same, then what’s the point?
Oh, that’s where the soul goes to retire, and live forever?
What? No work? No money, no worries? What’s the point then?
Oh, we get our reward in heaven?
Who decides the reward? I’m not liking the sound of this. Some get more than others? A lot more? Judged on what? Their contribution?
Ahha! You can’t measure the worth of contribution.
No-o-o you can’t. Nah-h-h. Who is claiming Contribution Supremacy?
What if heaven is right where we are, only in a different dimension? In other words, when the body dies, the soul remains the soul where it’s at. With moving privileges of course. I mean, you can’t expect a soul to stand still, can you?
Where does the soul get it’s power to move, or act, thus determine or influence events and conditions?
Yeah, that’s a tough one.
What creates the soul in the first place? How does it enter an organism?
It already exists in segments, in pieces, in units that eventually are brought together to form a life.
So the soul is in the seed?
It seems so.
Wowe.
Well, I believe there is or was at some point such a thing as virgin births in mammals, and maybe in the future it may become an evolutionary necessity in order to continue the human race line or any other animal line.
One must wonder why males also have breasts. It isn’t such a stretch of the powers of the mind to consider the possibility.
It may also be that the beginning of the human race began with one seed and not two. Or maybe many of one kind of seed – either many female seeds or many male seeds that reproduced themselves.
One thing is for sure – logically speaking – the caveman or cavewoman didn’t just drop from the sky fully formed as a human.
Many years ago I developed a color code that I use in various ways that has nothing to do with art. Well, if life is art, okay, but I generally think of life as life, not confined by interpretation.
RED = ambition
BLUE = confidence
ORANGE = tenacious
GREEN = unwavering
BROWN = calm
GRAY = God
I didn’t think of it at the time, but I didn’t have a color code for black or white. Still don’t. Wonder what that means?
charcoal capsules
turmeric
alcohol
water
steel brushes
cotton wipe towels
I mute the suffering in the paintings so people can look at them. I do it by muting it in myself.
I used to do that in my writing. Bring the reader up to the suffer point then turn it off with a distraction – just like I do it when I’m painting. I know the suffering, but don’t completely engage. One isn’t prepared to experience the suffering of others head on, since they don’t have their same defense systems in place. Not that defense systems help much under actions of torture and slaughter.
I’ve not much time to complete my work, so I made a decision to lift the haze from my writing that shielded the reader by making all thoughts equal absent emotion. I might as well have been writing a song in a language nobody understood.
At some level the psyche understands, but that concept of everything being equal because all atoms are the same and molecules are the same kept bothering me. Accepting atrocities because everybody does it kept gnawing at my gut.
It’s the configuration of the atoms and molecules and everything else that’s equal that produces the differences. That’s what I’m inserting into my writing now, by using a direct and unequivocal approach. No protective haze. But still in absence of fear.
The Yellow Duck Walks On Water collection is finished. The paintings were finished when I framed them.
The Snow collection, although to some viewers – maybe even me – appears finished. It won’t be until the works are framed. Until then I’ve got some finishing to do.
This is the first time I returned to work the paintings since Rose died. Except for COW GOING TO SLAUGHTER she was with me while I worked every piece, until a few days after she died when I painted my last work – two paintings done simultaneously: DONKEY PASSING and SEA (SEE) ANIMALS. Midnight Rose Davies-Tight died on 5 March 2011.
Rose is SNOW. I named the second and last collection after her. Several of our kids had nature names in addition to their regular names; Snow was hers.
I’m starting with GIRAFFE and renaming it what it is: GIRAFFE MASSACRE. Originally I saw only two giraffes. First it was Mama, then it was Papa, one or the other, taking care of baby. Now I see more.
last worked: 21 February 2019
In 1975 Steve and I took a trip with some students and chaperones to the Soviet Union – in the middle of winter! Steve got his expenses paid for organizing the trip. I paid my way by selling the bedroom set we purchased a couple years after we got married. I recall people saying ‘your bedroom set! Are you kidding? ‘
No complaints from us. It was well worth it. A once in a lifetime opportunity. I found a way.
LET DEAD HORSE LIE.
