Archive for the ‘muse’ tag

Allen Vandever art post "Wind Dancer"

00winddancer

Wind Dancer AAcrylic, Epoxy Resin by Allen Vandever
I have painted her in my presence many times before, but only through solitary reflection have I been able to capture the haunting mystery of my muse's gaze. AOnly in quiet brushstrokes have I been able to capture the contours of her hips and the curvature of her waist, merging in the hypnosis of her dance. AThe rhythm pulls her this way, then that, the richness of sound is given form through the motions of her arms and the swaying of her shoulders. AShe flows like a willow tree in the wind, her body submitting to the elemental forces. ABut, as she manifests an image of the music, her face is languidly detached, unaware of the power of her loins and the art in her movement.
When she looks upon her reflection she does not see the vast countryside spanning unhindered over the plains of her neck, down her collarbone, through her sternum. AShe does not notice her amber-glowing skin stretched across the lines of her being, like a hide stretched across the body of a drum, stirring her into life. AShe has a strange fixation, a birthmark, as much a part of her as her nose and lips, but to her a curse confining her in isolation. AHer body has the power to make even humdrum pieces of music profoundly brilliant, but I will forever contemplate her eyes, which have the power to express her lonely struggle and the quiet despair of her soul.

Wind Dancer Acrylic, Epoxy Resin by Allen Vandever

I have painted her in my presence many times before, but only through solitary reflection have I been able to capture the haunting mystery of my muse’s gaze. Only in quiet brushstrokes have I been able to capture the contours of her hips and the curvature of her waist, merging in the hypnosis of her dance. The rhythm pulls her this way, then that, the richness of sound is given form through the motions of her arms and the swaying of her shoulders. She flows like a willow tree in the wind, her body submitting to the elemental forces. But, as she manifests an image of the music, her face is languidly detached, unaware of the power of her loins and the art in her movement.

When she looks upon her reflection she does not see the vast countryside spanning unhindered over the plains of her neck, down her collarbone, through her sternum. She does not notice her amber-glowing skin stretched across the lines of her being, like a hide stretched across the body of a drum, stirring her into life. She has a strange fixation, a birthmark, as much a part of her as her nose and lips, but to her a curse confining her in isolation. Her body has the power to make even humdrum pieces of music profoundly brilliant, but I will forever contemplate her eyes, which have the power to express her lonely struggle and the quiet despair of her soul.

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Posted: November 11th, 2009
at 12:10pm by Koookiecrumbles

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Categories: art,contemporary,philosophy,art theory

Comments: 2 comments