2nd Ave Extension South, Pioneer Square

Photo A.M.Moscoso

Photo A.M.Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Found Art- these are painted on a wall in an alley.

Unless you are on foot and  go down the alley you can’t really see the artwork that pops up there- so I like to check it out to see what’s new.

This is the best show yet.

amm

January 16, 2017

Seattle, Washington

USA

Devil’s Food Cake

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

Cake

 

Photo A.M Moscoso

Photo A.M Moscoso

I’d  like to take take my demons

and bake them into a cake

I’d ice them in creamy frosting

I’d serve them on a plate

 

People who made me sad would fork them

and crunch them between their teeth

Anyone who was made me cross would say

“This is so yummy, what’s your recipe?”

 

I’d drop my plate on the floor

I’d keep my fork in my hand

I’d point it at their eye and say

” Do you have to ask?”

Edvard Munch

Edvard Munch

 

We Are Stories

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt:

Learning

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Today I was at the Frye Museum in Seattle taking in the Chronicles of Solitude: Masterworks by Vilhelm Hammershøi from SMK—The National Gallery of Denmark when in the main Gallery ( no trip to the Frye is complete without visiting my favorite paintings )

20160206_150944-1-1-2-1.jpg

I got to watch an artist at work- I love to watch people create art- it’s like when I write, I really don’t mind having someone watching the words go from my brain to my fingers to the screen- or notebook.

Stories are meant to be shared, right?

So should the experience.

When I watched the Artist at the Museum, she became the subject of my art- in the photos I took and in the post I’m writing.

I watched her look from the painting on the wall, she looked at her own canvas and stroke by stroke I watched her recreate what she was looking at.

Writing is like that- letter by letter I recreate what I see and hear too. It’s not as simple as putting the words together- you have to be standing in the right spot, you have to chose the right color, the light has to be right- and if they come together you get a picture.

I told Luis as we watched the young woman at work on her painting-

” Sometimes I think to myself, if someone had given me the choice- you can either be a writer or an artist which would you choose?”

I have never been able to answer that question.

Vilhelm Hammershøi

Vilhelm Hammershøi

Today I learned to appreciate my own gift for writing- there’s this great thing that happens when I see a story in my head- I can put together words and phrases and a story appears.

I forgot until I watched the Artist at work today how much work it is, how much of yourself you have to put into what you do, how magical the experience is.

 

The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms

Muriel Rukeyse

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Art Walkers

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

When I go out on my Art Walks, my favorite artwalk companion is my dog, Hamish Macbeth:

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

I know that when most people go on Art Walks, cheese and wine are involved.

My idea of a an Art Walk is me grabbing Hamish’s leash and telling him, ” Come on Hamish, let’s go find us some art.”

Art, as you know is everywhere- it’s  in a weather worn fence, a carefully designed garden or a yard gone wild.

What I like about taking my art walks with that when I see art, Hamish doesn’t look at it and say, ” Gee, I don’t know if I’d call that art.”

He just looks at  it, sniffs it, licks it and walks away.

Art can be art and I can enjoy it, absorb it and take a picture.

It is what it is.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

This is the Art me and Hamish found this weekend. It’s sort of related to the art I found last weekend.

Here it is:

Photo: A.M. Moscoso "Dinosaur"

Photo: A.M. Moscoso
“Dinosaur”

Photo: A.M Moscoso " Abstract In Chalk"

Photo: A.M Moscoso
” Abstract In Chalk”

And this is my favorite:

Photo: A.M. Moscoso " The Warning "

Photo: A.M. Moscoso
” The Warning “

I felt like Indiana Jones, walking around this play field looking for Chalk art. When I found it I was pretty excited. Like I discovered something important before it disappeared.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

This is what I’ve learned about Art on my walks with Hamish Macbeth:

Art is everywhere and it’s in everything- you just have to be willing to let it happen in you head without telling it what it is- but the licking and sniffing part- I’d leave that part of the experience out.

amm

Picture This

DAILY PROMPT

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt:

Paint

Abstract by Jean Myers

Abstract by Jean Myers

When I was in Junior High School I took an art class.

I was always excited when we got new projects to work on- plus our art teacher was so cool that you actually liked going to class and it was fun to jump off that cliff of expression straight into the wild that raging river of creativity  running below it.

Of course, the only problem was I made a mess of all of my projects, I never got better then a “C” on my work. The “C” meant average, and that was with pity points because I showed up to class everyday and participated in discussions.

You’d never guess I came from a family where artists and great photographers ran all over our family tree like wild monkeys in an overloaded banana tree- but that was the case.

I guess I was like one of those baby monkeys that fell out of the tree and snapped it’s neck on the way down because friends, I was not as talented as the rest of my family.

Not by a long shot.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

.Twice a week I had to bring my Telecaster Guitar to class because I had music lessons after school and no way was I going to leave it in my locker or in the Principal’s Office- it’s not that I couldn’t trust him, it’s just that if he wasn’t in his office the door was locked and I had a bus to catch so that wasn’t really an option.

Anyway my art teacher used to ask if he could play my guitar and I’d let him, and then I’d play a little.

He knew I was good at creative writing and sometimes he’d tell me my English teacher would show my work in the break room and how much he and the other teachers had enjoyed what I’d written.

” You’re a pretty talented cookie and you’re funny.” He said more then once.

These conversations of course took place over the mutilated remains of that weeks project. It wasn’t as awkward as you’d think.

Our teacher graded the projects on the spot. He never said the grade out loud. He’d just go over the technical aspects and ask you to tell a little story about the why of it all.

I used to enjoy that- I mean stories with pictures. What wasn’t to love?

Once I looked down at one of those sad little things I’d dragged DOA into the world and was getting ready to pitch it in the trash after I’d gotten my standard ” C ” grade. My teacher was about to walk to the next project and I’d sort of said, before I dropped it into the can ” I’m no artist. That’s for sure. “

My teacher turned back and said to me, with surprise ” Yes you are an artist Anita. Yes you are.”

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso