tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53059769842793583962024-03-12T23:42:17.867-04:00.Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-11808034615671615642017-05-30T10:44:00.000-04:002019-01-13T21:56:35.738-05:00Open Letter to Artists | No Fee Art Submissions<div class="gmail_default">
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<a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/newimages/SPAGlogo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="465" height="200" src="https://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/newimages/SPAGlogo.jpg" width="183" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dear Artists, <br /> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We are in the process of making several major
changes and I am anxious to tell you about them. <b><br /><br /><span style="color: #38761d;">First, artists who submit work in response to our calls will no longer have to pay fees</span></b><span style="color: #38761d;">.</span>
Everything else about our exhibitions will stay the same. We will
select thirty artists whose work will be shown online and in our art and
literary journal, <b><i>Still Point Arts Quarterly</i></b>, and we will designate 5 artists as award winners in 5 categories. </span></span></div>
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<b><a href="https://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/call4artists.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Call for Artists</span></span></a></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Second, we have decided to transition to a digital interactive journal; eventually, we
will stop producing our journal in print. </span></b>This decision was
mainly
driven by difficulties we've had with the U.S. Postal Service regarding
delivery. We've made several changes over the years to try to improve
our delivery rates, but we still
experience a number of costly delivery problems with every mailing. For a
small business, these expenses can be very troubling. Some
of you have experienced this problem with us. So, we've decided to
focus our
efforts in the future on our digital piece, and we plan to make it an
interactive digital publication with links and pop-ups. We're excited
about the next steps in the evolution of our very fine art and literary
journal. Also, we will continue to honor paid subscriptions to print
editions until they expire.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.stillpointartsquarterly.com/" target="_blank"><i><b>Still Point Arts Quarterly</b></i></a><br /><br /><b><span style="color: #38761d;">Third, subscriptions and single copies of our digital publication will be free. </span></b><span style="color: black;">With
our expenses drastically lowered by not paying printing and mailing
costs, we feel we can offer our journal to readers at no cost.
Ultimately, our goal is to dramatically widen our reach into the art and
literary
community. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/signup_SPAQ.html" target="_blank">Sign up</a> for your free digital subscription to <i>Still Point Arts Quarterly</i>, which starts with the fall 2017 issue.</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I
know there is a feeling on the part of many artists that the practice
of paying money to have one's work considered for an exhibition is
questionable, at best. While it is a very common practice, it has both
pros and cons, and I have often given this consideration. But the
business of producing a print journal has required us to find ways to
support the ever-increasing costs of printing and postage. Since our
artists are featured in the journal, I felt charging fees was justified.
But by now dropping our printing and mailing expenses, it only makes
sense to not charge fees for submitting artwork for consideration. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>I
hope you will continue to support and delight us with your art
submissions. Our commitment to quality content and presentation is
unchanged. Please share this message with your friends and colleagues. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thank you for all you do to make our work so enjoyable. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Hope to hear from you soon.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Christine Cote </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Founder and Proud Member </span></span>Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-15856023126971217662016-05-25T09:38:00.000-04:002019-01-13T21:59:21.875-05:00Rare Literary Achievement Available Again<div class="fb-like" data-action="like" data-href="http://shantiartsblog.blogspot.com/2016/05/rare-literary-achievement-available.html" data-layout="standard" data-share="true" data-show-faces="false">
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<a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/images/THURBER_PAPERBOY_COVER_FRONT_WEB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/images/THURBER_PAPERBOY_COVER_FRONT_WEB.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shanti Arts Publishing announces the release of Bob Thurber's debut novel, <i>Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel</i>. <i>Paperboy</i>
was first published by Casperian Books in 2011 and went out of print a
few years later. The book's popularity and superb reviews led to its
republication by Shanti Arts Publishing. It is due to be released May
31, 2016.<br /><br /><i>Paperboy</i> is the story of fourteen-year-old
Jack Fisher-malnourished and battered, abandoned by his father,
neglected by his mother, manipulated by his older sister, harangued by
his boss, and shortchanged by customers. Jack delivers papers in
Pawtucket while trying to keep his family from self-destructing
completely. It is 1969, and as the whole world holds its breath to see
what will become of the Apollo 11 astronauts, Jack clings to his daily
mantra, "Things will get better." But things get drastically worse, at
space-age speed.<br /><br />Bob Thurber is an award-winning short story
writer whose fiction has appeared in hundreds of publications and dozens
of anthologies. Born in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, in 1955, he
experienced poverty, a lack of formal education, and a series of dull
dreary jobs while working obsessively at writing nearly every day for
twenty years before attempting to publish his work. Since then he has
produced an enormously successful body of work that has received a
nearly endless list of awards and citations. Thurber is also the author
of <i>Cinderella She Was Not</i> (2013), <i>Nickel Fictions: Volume One</i> (2013), and <i>Nothing But Trouble</i> (Shanti Arts Publishing, 2014).<br /><br /><i>Paperboy</i>
has received much praise from authors, reviewers, and editors. The
literary website Three Guys One Book wrote: "Reading this book, even at
its darkest places, you can see Bob Thurber's fingerprints. He's so
sharp-especially at short fiction-that he writes short burning chapters
from which you can't tear away. He slugs you right in the gut without
any maudlin posturing-you'll probably ask for more. Raw and horrific
throughout, but genuinely funny in places."<br /><br />Author Dennis Must said: "<i>Paperboy</i>
continues to haunt my consciousness. The narrator's skill and veracity
in this pared-down and guileless rendering I consider a rare literary
achievement."<br /><br /><i>Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel</i> is a
publication of Shanti Arts Publishing in Brunswick, Maine. The book may
be purchased through all major online booksellers and may be found in
select bookstores. A digital edition is available through most sellers
of ebooks.<br /><br />ISBN: 978-1-941830-34-5 (print, softcover) $17.95 USD<br />ISBN: 978-1-941830-35-2 (digital) $3.99 USD<br /><br /><a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/THURBER_PAPERBOY.html" target="_blank">more information</a></span></span></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-25660654328059288372016-04-11T10:28:00.002-04:002016-04-11T10:40:18.109-04:00Bob Thurber's Reflection on Writing<div class="fb-like" data-action="like" data-href="http://shantiartsblog.blogspot.com/2016/04/bob-thurbers-reflection-on-writing.html" data-layout="button_count" data-share="true" data-show-faces="true">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Something for our writers . . . </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Remember . . . </i></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Keystrokes are hammer taps. Get words on paper. Don’t worry about connections, character or plot. Work for an hour. Promise<span class="text_exposed_show"> yourself an hour. Do nothing else but move your fingers. Make coarse shapes. Follow any emotion that pops up but never impose emotion, never fake it, and don’t make up your mind or your heart ahead of time. Understand you don’t know what you’re doing. That’s why you’re here. Rough it out. Anything goes. You can decide
later what any piece of text looks like, what it might mean. Don’t stop.
Don’t question. Don’t quit. Don’t stop to read what you wrote. Move your fingers. You mind will have no other option but to keep up.
Remember that writer’s block is merely the cold marble waiting for the
chisel to heat up.</span></i></span></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="text_exposed_show"><i>— </i><a href="http://www.bobthurber.net/" target="_blank">Bob Thurber</a>,
author of <i>Paperboy</i> and <i>Nothing But Trouble</i> (Shanti Arts Publishing, 2014) and countless short
stories and flash fiction.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Note: Shanti Arts Publishing is republishing <i>Paperboy </i>and it will be released later this spring. When I read <i>Paperboy</i> a few years ago, I was stunned and amazed. It's a book I've never been able to get out of my head. When Bob asked us to republish it, I was elated. I'm delighted to make this book available again.</span></span></span></span></h3>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-67702975318572679612015-08-18T18:32:00.000-04:002019-01-13T21:59:57.641-05:00Diana Crane Awarded 2015 Write Well Award<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Diana Crane has received the <a href="http://writewellaward.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=7&Itemid=1203" target="_blank"><b>2015 Write Well Award</b></a> for her story, "The Visitor," which appeared in the <a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/SPAQ16_WIN14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank"><b>Winter 2014</b></a> issue of <b><a href="http://www.stillpointartsquarterly.com/" target="_blank">Still Point Arts Quarterly</a></b>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Write Well Award was established by the <b><span style="color: #ff6600;"><a href="http://silverpenwriters.org/#moved" target="_blank">Silver Pen Writers Association</a></span></b>,</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> a non-profit organization that encourages and
fosters creative writing careers, and is named after the <b><a href="http://www.writewell.silverpen.org/" target="_blank">Write Well, Write to Sell</a></b> blog by Rick Taubold and Scott Gamboe, also a part of Silver Pen. The award seeks to recognize excellence in published short fiction in both
print and electronic magazines. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><a alt="http://www.stillpointartsquarterly.com" href="http://www.stillpointartsquarterly.com/" shape="rect" style="color: #ff6600; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"></a> </span></span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xSRtQycNKEo/VdOyC0Xl7oI/AAAAAAAAIqQ/EtyAh8QkNYI/s1600/craneimage.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xSRtQycNKEo/VdOyC0Xl7oI/AAAAAAAAIqQ/EtyAh8QkNYI/s320/craneimage.png" width="296" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Diana Crane
grew up in Canada, taught sociology in the United States, and has
published several books of nonfiction on topics related to fashion, the
media, and the arts. She has been the recipient of a Guggenheim
Fellowship and twice the recipient of a Fulbright award. She now lives
in Paris where she writes fiction as well as articles about fashion and
the arts. She also co-edits a fashion studies journal.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Please click <b><a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/SPAQ16_WIN14_CRANE.pdf" target="_blank">here</a></b> to read "The Visitor."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Images in this story are by <b><a href="http://susanlandorkeegin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Susan Landor Keegin</a></b>.</span></span><br />
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Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-8951572049858786042015-06-03T09:02:00.001-04:002019-01-13T22:00:22.317-05:00Spring Rain Winter Snow Honored by the Haiku Society of Ameria<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We are delighted that our children's book <i><b><a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/RIELLY_SPRING.html" target="_blank">Spring Rain Winter Snow</a></b></i> received an Honorable Mention in the annual book awards by the <a href="http://www.hsa-haiku.org/meritbookawards/merit-book_archive.htm" target="_blank"><b>Haiku Society of America</b></a>. The haiku in <i>Spring Rain Winter Snow</i> are by Edward J. Rielly, and illustrations are by Angelina Buonaiuto. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span class="book_text_italic"><i>Spring Rain Winter Snow</i></span>
celebrates the four seasons with insightful haiku and enchanting
illustrations. The pages of this lovely book are filled with
opportunities for children to gaze, wonder, question, and smile. Both
children and adults will enjoy this book for its engaging approach to
the magic of nature's seasons.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">JUVENILE NONFICTION / Concepts / Seasons<br />
JUVENILE NONFICTION / Poetry / General</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">ISBN: 978-1-941830-94-9 (print; hardcover) </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">$19.99</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/RIELLY_SPRING.html" target="_blank">More Information</a></b> | <a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/RIELLY_SPRING.html" target="_blank"><b>Purchase</b></a></span></span><br />
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<br />Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-74480302808325836122015-05-28T20:44:00.000-04:002019-01-13T22:00:52.054-05:00Three Writers Nominated for Write Well Award<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Three featured writers have been nominated by Shanti Arts for the 2014 <a href="http://www.writewellaward.com/" target="_blank"><b>Write Well Award</b></a>,
which seeks to recognize excellence in published short fiction in both
print and electronic magazines. Winners will be announced in August
2015. <br /><br />Nominated writers are:<br /><br /><b>Diana Crane</b>, for "The Visitor," which appeared in the <a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/SPAQ16_WIN14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank"><b>Winter 2014</b></a> issue of <span style="color: black;"><b><a href="http://www.stillpointartsquarterly.com/" target="_blank">Still Point Arts Quarterly</a></b>. </span></span><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Diana Crane
grew up in Canada, taught sociology in the United States, and has
published several books of nonfiction on topics related to fashion, the
media, and the arts. She has been the recipient of a Guggenheim
Fellowship and twice the recipient of a Fulbright award. She now lives
in Paris where she writes fiction as well as articles about fashion and
the arts. She also co-edits a fashion studies journal.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Crane's <a href="https://sociology.sas.upenn.edu/d_crane" target="_blank"><b>website</b></a> | <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Diana-Crane/e/B001HD06HQ" target="_blank"><b>Amazon page</b></a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><br /><b>Frederic Smith</b>, for "The Old Man and the Ballerina," which appeared in the <a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/uploads/files/SV14_WIN14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank"><b>Winter 2014</b></a> issue of <a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank"><b>Stone Voices</b></a>.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Frederic Smith is a
southern Californian who went to Princeton and Cambridge. Twenty years
ago he tired of practicing law and turned full-time to writing. He is
the author of numerous stories and a novel, <i> See How We Run</i>, which received the lead reviews in the <i>New Statesman</i> and the <i>Irish Times</i>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /><br /><b>Susan Scott</b>, for "Still Life," which appeared in the <a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/uploads/files/SV11_SPR14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank"><b>Spring 2014</b></a> issue of <a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank"><b>Stone Voices</b></a>. </span></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Susan
Scott collaborates with artists, scholars and activists on a wide range
of creative projects and serves as a lead editor with <i>New Quarterly</i>
magazine, home to the Wild Writers Festival in Waterloo, Ontario,
Canada. Scott teaches memoir, short fiction, and the well-wrought essay;
2014 workshops include the annual French River Creative Writing
Retreat and Stone by Stone: Writing Spiritual Memoir, with Prajna of
Amida Mosaic Sangha. A memoir in-progress, <i>Sainted Dirt: Stories from the Fringe</i>, explores the gifts of spiritual displacement. A chapbook, <i>Temple in a Teapot</i>, was launched on the Mormon Women Writers Literary Tour.</span></span>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-9558988998995548322015-04-13T11:00:00.000-04:002019-01-13T21:58:15.690-05:00Loving Awareness<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8UBKmOQbELA/VSsvCr1ZaDI/AAAAAAAAIgc/L0ke2tGVtFo/s1600/800px-Flammendes_Herz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8UBKmOQbELA/VSsvCr1ZaDI/AAAAAAAAIgc/L0ke2tGVtFo/s1600/800px-Flammendes_Herz.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lukas Riebling, Flaming Heart.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>How does one become loving awareness? If I change my identification from the ego to the soul, then as I look at people, they all appear like souls to me. I change from my head, the thought of who I am, to my spiritual heart, which is a different sort of awareness — feeling directly, intuiting, loving awareness. It's changing from a worldly outer identification to a spiritual inner identification. Concentrate on your spiritual heart, right in the middle of your chest.</i> ~ Ram Dass</span></span></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-48890380939282297982015-03-17T08:54:00.000-04:002019-01-13T21:52:52.461-05:00Let go of it?<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>One cold day a bearskin was floating down the river.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>I said to a man who had no clothes,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Jump in and pull it out."</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>But the bearskin was a live bear,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>and the man who jumped in so eagerly</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>was caught in the clutches of what he went to grab.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Let go of it," I said, "Fighting won't get you anywhere."</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"Let go of it? This coat won't let go of me!"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~ Rumi, "The Pull of Love"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/38/A_Bear_Fighting_a_Tiger_LACMA_65.37.307.jpg/800px-A_Bear_Fighting_a_Tiger_LACMA_65.37.307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/38/A_Bear_Fighting_a_Tiger_LACMA_65.37.307.jpg/800px-A_Bear_Fighting_a_Tiger_LACMA_65.37.307.jpg" height="286" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Bear Fighting a Tiger, 1610</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-59034004799906121362015-03-12T09:10:00.000-04:002019-01-13T22:01:28.778-05:00Leonard Cohen: He's My Man<a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/25/Leonard_Cohen_2190.jpg/600px-Leonard_Cohen_2190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/25/Leonard_Cohen_2190.jpg/600px-Leonard_Cohen_2190.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I've rediscovered Leonard Cohen....he's my man.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"I generally find the song arises out of the guitar playing, just fooling around on the guitar. Just trying different sequences of chords, really, just like playing guitar every day and singing until I make myself cry, then I stop. . . . I don't weep copiously, I just feel a little catch in my throat or something like that. Then I know that I am in contact with something that is just a little deeper than where I started when I picked the guitar up."</i></span></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-36409985257877703862015-03-04T09:29:00.000-05:002019-01-13T22:02:11.621-05:00An Afternoon with Bergman - Ingmar Bergman<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As editor of two art and literary journals, I have the pleasure of reading an amazing variety of submissions—gripping stories, inspiring characters, surprising endings. Of those pieces that are selected, I then have the delight of putting them in layout, which involves doing a very close read and creating the visual display, the "look and feel," that will enhance the telling of the story and the delivery of the message.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Today I had a very special treat. I was working on a piece that will appear in the upcoming summer issue of <b><i><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank">Stone Voices</a></i></b>. Called "I'm Anxious, Mr. Bergman," by Leo Tracy, its story is entwined with that of the 1972 Ingmar Bergman film <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cries_and_Whispers" target="_blank"><b>Cries and Whispers</b></a>.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Tracy tells the story of a young man dealing with searing questions about life, love, joy, destiny, cruelty, and death. His internal struggle is made even more difficult because he is gripped by anxiety and OCD. While visiting his uncle, the young man goes to see <i>Cries and Whispers</i>—not ever an easy movie to watch, but far less easy while gripped with emotional fragility. As for me, a close read of this piece made me determined to see <i>Cries and Whispers</i>. So I checked <b><a href="http://www.hulu.com/" target="_blank">Hulu</a></b> for availability . . . and there it was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://berlinfilmjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Cries-And-Whispers-Ingmar-Bergman-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://berlinfilmjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/Cries-And-Whispers-Ingmar-Bergman-1.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The film tells the story of three sisters, one of whom is dying of cancer. Through flashbacks, the problems of the family are revealed: infidelity, jealousy, arrogance, and even hatred. This makes dealing with the death of a sibling extremely difficult. Only the family maid is able to comfort and care for the dying woman and does so out of genuine love and affection.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The film is a thing of beauty. Costumes and furnishings are splendid. Poses, postures, and facial expressions of characters are precise and expressive. The flow of the film is slow and serene, but also perfect; one can't rush through the kind of emotional spectacle presented here. Adding to the drama, the color red is used to punctuate scene changes and certain highly emotional moments. It is a memorable and complex creation.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"I'm Anxious, Mr. Bergman" is ultimately about the intertwining of life and art. We bring ourselves to art, our anxiety, sorrow, desperation, as well as joy, freedom, and sense of fulfillment. If we are open and engaged, art helps us churn through all the muddled pieces of our lives. Sometimes art is enjoyable and refreshing; sometimes it tears us wide open. But do it, we must. </span></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-72552741537936699892014-11-23T19:11:00.000-05:002014-11-23T19:11:33.495-05:00David Denny Nominated for the Pushcart Prize<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Shanti Arts is delighted to announce that it has nominated David Denny for the Pushcart Prize for his story "Gravidation," which appeared in the <b><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/uploads/files/SV11_SPR14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank">spring 2014</a> </b>issue of <b><i><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank">Stone Voices</a></i></b>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">David Denny</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> is the author of </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Fool in the Attic</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (Aldrich Press), </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Plebeian on the Front Porch</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (Finishing Line Press), and the forthcoming </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Man Overboard </i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(Wipf & Stock). His poems and short stories have appeared in numerous literary journals, including </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sand Hill Review, California Quarterly, Iodine Poetry Journal, Pearl,</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> and </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Sun</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. He holds an M.F.A. in creative writing from the University of Oregon and an M.A.T. degree from Fuller Theological Seminary. Denny is Professor of English at De Anza College and former editor of </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bottomfish</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> magazine. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Read "<a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/SV11_SPR14_DENNY.pdf" target="_blank"><b>Gravidation</b></a>."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><em><br /></em></span></div>
<div class="style94" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-17765816472466106712014-11-21T13:57:00.000-05:002014-11-23T19:26:04.196-05:00The Elements of Art<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I recently started reading <b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6492239-the-daily-book-of-art" target="_blank"><i>The Daily Book of Art</i></a></b>, a collection of 365 short readings about lots of different facets of art. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The first reading is about the elements of art—line, shape, texture, etc. I've seen these referred to as the building blocks of art, as if we use them one-by-one to put together a work of art. But I think art-making is largely intuitive; it's probably not all that common for an artist to consciously think about line and shape and texture while making art. These elements of art, however, come into play when we step back to review, analyze, or interpret a work of art. They give us a common language that helps us understand art.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The first entry in <b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6492239-the-daily-book-of-art" target="_blank"><i>The Daily Book of Art</i></a></b> says to imagine the elements of art as components of a visual language. Surely I've heard this before, but it jumped off the page today and made me ask myself: If the elements of art are a language, what is my art saying? </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZW7v7nbspCY/VG3x73ltC_I/AAAAAAAAIHw/UKwzeMn_Eec/s1600/water_0001_small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZW7v7nbspCY/VG3x73ltC_I/AAAAAAAAIHw/UKwzeMn_Eec/s1600/water_0001_small.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This is one of my favorite images, taken a few years ago on the shore of a lake in northern Maine. Looking at it now and thinking about art as visual language, I can see that this image is saying quite a lot. If I focus on texture, I see gentle ripples on an otherwise calm water surface covered with a shroud of mist that contributes to the calm and gentle feeling of the scene. Then there is the clear horizontal line signifying the movement of the ducks from left to right, breaking the stillness of the water, creating a crease of evidence that stays for only a few minutes and then disappears. Then there is the rock, a critical part of this composition. Without the rock, this would be an entirely different image. The rock is the counterpoint, a hard and edgy shape amidst an ocean of soft mist and calm water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So what is this image saying? I think it is saying something about the general state of stillness, a state unencumbered by passing thoughts and solid impediments. This image evokes such a state and honors it. But, somehow, putting this into words doesn't work all that well. The image says what I have to say so much better than the words. And the most amazing part is that I wasn't consciously thinking about this when I took the picture; rather, the scene resonated with me in a very strong way and I was drawn to preserve it. By making this picture, I used the elements of art to make a statement—one that can't as easily be said with words, at least not by me.</span></div>
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Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-85692098917212034172014-11-06T18:14:00.001-05:002014-11-06T18:16:37.766-05:00Listen<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wUztONhBPKY/VFv_8GS0OOI/AAAAAAAAIFk/y7lDECaLwnw/s1600/water_0113.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wUztONhBPKY/VFv_8GS0OOI/AAAAAAAAIFk/y7lDECaLwnw/s1600/water_0113.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>A person's too weak to trust his own head, she told him. When you're in trouble, she said, don't listen to what your mind says. Listen to the faint voices outside of yourself—stones rattling at the bottom of a creek, the rustle of leaves. There's messages out there if you know how to look. There's more meaning in an owl's cry than in a shelf full of Bibles. Watch what the fish are biting, study how a dog sleeps, remember where the dragonflies gather to drink from the mud.</i> </span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>~ </i>Vincent Louis Carrella,<i> Serpent Box</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F3.bp.blogspot.com%2F-wUztONhBPKY%2FVFv_8GS0OOI%2FAAAAAAAAIFk%2Fy7lDECaLwnw%2Fs1600%2Fwater_0113.jpg&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wUztONhBPKY/VFv_8GS0OOI/AAAAAAAAIFk/y7lDECaLwnw/s1600/water_0113.jpg" -->Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-21795537062158026462014-10-28T19:58:00.001-04:002014-10-28T20:05:20.830-04:00Serpent Box: A Book with a Soul<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-67rOu4PuSh8/VFAtBmO-FCI/AAAAAAAAHts/hR0nhX-PGjE/s1600/serpentbox_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-67rOu4PuSh8/VFAtBmO-FCI/AAAAAAAAHts/hR0nhX-PGjE/s1600/serpentbox_large.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i><a href="http://www.serpentbox.com/" target="_blank"><b>Serpent Box</b></a></i>, a novel by our own Vincent Louis Carrella, who
writes a column for <i><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank"><b>Stone Voices</b></a></i>, has been on my reading pile for a few years
now. Earlier this month, while getting ready to head out to spend a few weeks
in the north Maine woods, I snatched it from its temporary resting place and
put it in my bag. It was a great decision.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The book is a gem. I love a book with a soul, a book whose
words wrap themselves around me in a tight embrace and won’t let go, a book
that greets me in the morning while I’m sipping tea, and a book that provides
me with my last thoughts before falling asleep for the night. <i>Serpent Box</i> has a
soul. Here's a snippet:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Baxter once said that a man in the woods was about the
purest thing there was in the world, and the closest he could come to knowing
God. A man can never buy with money this thing that the Lord gave him for free,
he said. That sense of awe and respect one derives from the trees and the earth
and all things that dwell in between them. He told Jacob that poetry was all
around him, in the grass and on the surface of the leaves, and that the Bible
was full of good words designed to mimic what could never be written, but could
sometimes be heard and always seen—the rising water, the falling rain, the rush
of river and wind, the passage of cloud banks and great ruminant herds, buffalo
and elk and the trailing packs of carnivores, both man and wild dog, wanderers
all, in endless migration to the grasslands that feed them. He told them that
magic is neither myth nor mystery but that which cannot be explained or
understood—which is how the world was and should always be. There’s magic in a
caterpillar, he told him, and in an acorn and behind the stars. His ancestors
had understood this. They worshipped the forest as some white men worship God
He had only come to know and love God through time spent in the woods . . . .</i></span></blockquote>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Christine Cote</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Shanti Arts </span><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-12206514228779477342014-09-05T08:52:00.000-04:002014-09-05T08:52:29.265-04:00This Is Abstract Art<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/" target="_blank">Still Point Art Gallery</a></b>'s current exhibition is <a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/current.html" target="_blank"><b><i>Earth Water Fire Air: Our World in Abstract</i></b></a>. <a href="http://www.somaticexpression.com/" target="_blank"><b>Jamie McHugh</b></a> received the award for Best Photograph for his image</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">, <i><b>Untitled #17 (2007)</b></i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Despite the title, you most likely see this photograph as a picture of a beach and a wave receding back into the ocean. Waves rush rapidly onto the beach, their height and intensity becoming smaller and smaller as they move along. Then, all of a sudden, they begin to recede, leaving traces of water sinking into the sand. This happens over and over and over, and you can sense this rhythmic activity in this image.</span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/images/3698_Untitled%2017%202007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/images/3698_Untitled%2017%202007.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Jamie McHugh</b>, <i><b>Untitled #17 (2007)</b></i></td></tr>
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<br /><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But, this image doesn't look like the beach; it doesn't look like the ocean. The "sand" is too yellow, and the "water" is too blue.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So, imagine for a moment that this isn't a beach scene. With your eyes you see little more than color fields of deep yellow and sharp blue meeting up with one another, merging with one another, and a line of tension exists between them. In fact, yellow and blue are known as complementary colors—colors that, when placed next to each other, create strong contrast and serve to reinforce one another. You can see the contrast between these colors in this image, and you can see the way the colors support and even intensify each other. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Now, try to see this image without your mind. How does the image make you feel? What experiences in your life does it remind you of? Are you the yellow part of this image or the blue? Put the image in motion and, with your body, feel the movement. Notice how you and the image interact. Notice how you and the image can become one. This is abstract art.</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Christine Cote</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Shanti Arts</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-9551092992063526462014-08-28T18:34:00.000-04:002014-08-28T18:37:33.653-04:00Fall...What a Glorious Season<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's been a good summer...not too hot, not too terribly busy. Time to enjoy everything around me...my new puppy, my beautiful flowering shrubs, the mounds of ferns in the woods, family and friends. But summer in Maine always goes so fast. Spring doesn't seem to end until July 4th, and then by mid-August, the shadows are long, the leaves start turning, and the cicadas are buzzing in the trees—sure signs that fall is almost here. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Today was a glorious day, the kind of day that ends with a warmth in your heart and a smile of contentment on your face. I got some editing done, worked in my yard pulling weeds and clearing out brush, wrapped some presents and made a cake for my friend whose birthday we will celebrate tomorrow, and sat on the deck answering email and watching my dogs chase each other around in the woods. It was warm, but not too hot, and there was a strong breeze coming out of the northeast that felt so good. I can't count the number of times I said, "It feels like a fall day."</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Then, no coincidence, I'm sure, I pulled up the website of one of our artists, <a href="http://susanlandor.com/" target="_blank"><b>Susan Landor Keegin</b></a>. Susan has exhibited her work numerous times at <a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/" target="_blank"><b>Still Point Art Gallery</b></a>, and her work was featured in the<b><a href="http://www.stillpointartgallery.com/uploads/files/SPAQ14_SUM14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank"> summer 2014 issue</a></b> of <b><a href="http://www.stillpointartsquarterly.com/" target="_blank">Still Point Arts Quarterly</a></b>. I went to her site today to check the titles of a few paintings that will appear in our upcoming winter issue, and saw this lovely image...</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mKvYWoUzp0o/U_-p_uSLGvI/AAAAAAAAHk0/zpWV4EmWuh8/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2014-08-28%2Bat%2B5.47.45%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mKvYWoUzp0o/U_-p_uSLGvI/AAAAAAAAHk0/zpWV4EmWuh8/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2014-08-28%2Bat%2B5.47.45%2BPM.png" height="319" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Glorious fall, with its reds and golds, crunchy leaves, cool temperatures, and earthy smells. Pure delight. I easily imagine myself in this splendid landscape, enjoying it with every one of my senses and breathing it into my pores. Fall...what a glorious season. </span></div>
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Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-40955895548023125112014-06-13T20:38:00.003-04:002014-06-13T20:39:34.927-04:00Stone Voices Loses Theresa Sweeney<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I just received word of the recent passing of <i><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank"><b>Stone Voices</b></a></i> columnist Theresa Sweeney. Her mother phoned to tell me that Theresa fell in her home and died from her injuries the next morning. </span></div>
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1962 - 2014</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A huge shock. A terrible loss. Indeed, the world has lost a voice of wisdom. Theresa's insights into the interconnections between art, nature, and spirit were truly remarkable, and she had a gift for communicating the secrets of these interconnections in a way that was clear and accessible. Her wisdom would sneak up and gently take hold of you while enjoying a story about her grandmother's garden, a trip to Wal-Mart, or paintings of teddy bears. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Theresa wrote a column for <i>Stone Voices</i> from the very beginning of the publication's history in fall 2011. Her column always offered a powerful message tucked inside a simple, but eloquent, story. Though I never met Theresa in person, I could always feel her radiant personality and vibrant energy when I read her work. So, thinking about her many contributions to our publication over the past few years, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I went through her columns and extracted a few paragraphs that I particularly like. Theresa will indeed be missed by the entire </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Stone Voices</i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> community.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: blue;">from "Child's Play," Summer 2013</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>It amazes me that in Nature, though every being has a job, no creature appears to work, and yet everything is accomplished. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: blue;">from "True Colors," Fall 2013</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I remember learning in grade school that when leaves change color they are actually reverting to their original hue. Trees decrease the green chlorophyll in their leaves as they begin to pull energy inward for the coming hibernation of winter. Contrary to what many believe, the vivid shades that hold us spellbound each autumn are really the true colors of leaves. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>The season of fall calls us to reflect upon our own true colors. Like trees, we spend a lot of internal energy creating an artificial chlorophyll-type mask of our own that hides our authentic nature. Many of us grow up feeling insecure in who we are, and in an effort to fit in we sadly stifle our uniqueness. We become attached instead to a false sense of self, dependent upon other people and things to define us. Just as our attention to trees is heightened each autumn when they show us their authenticity, other people's attraction to us is strengthened when we drop our facades and show them who we really are.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Trees have no problem taking self inventory each year and shedding that which no longer serves them. They know that new growth is just around the corner.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>As we celebrate Thanksgiving we can be appreciative for the lessons learned and be assured that our letting go will become food for our own greater nourishment.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: blue;">from "The Art of Patience," Spring 2014</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>While it may benefit us in certain areas of our lives, I do not believe patience is such a virtue when it comes to creative pursuits. In fact, I think it can actually thwart creativity. Your best art comes through you, not from you. When you start to feel the need to summon patience to pull you through, it's a signal that you are blocking the flow. When your art begins to stress you and you start criticizing it and noticing mistakes and flaws, when you start hating it and wishing it were something other than it is, when you feel the need for patience to persevere, you've hijacked the bus. You've fall our of sync with your muse. </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Art is a voyage of discovery. Leonardo da Vinci advised us: Do not be tethered to your expectations. By wanting something to be good, by desiring a particular result, we jeopardize what wants to have life. Artists must be cautious not to super-glue themselves to their initial vision, but rather to alway live in new beginnings. That way we leave the door open to all potential.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><span style="color: blue;">from "The Goldfinch and the Teddy Bear," Winter 2013</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Life. Full of meaningless, random coincidences? I think not! There are signposts all along our path. Everything that happens has a purpose; everything that happens helps us in some way. Everything. Pay attention and see what magic unfolds.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Christine Cote</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Shanti Arts</span></div>
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Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-26726802870738698112014-06-02T09:35:00.001-04:002014-06-02T09:36:28.041-04:00Jack-in-the-Pulpit<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It is not colorful, it has no sweet flowery scent, and it can very easily be missed as one strolls through the woods, but the Jack-in-the-Pulpit is quite possibly my favorite plant. When I moved to Maine twenty years ago, I found a few of these interesting plants growing in my woods, and I have carefully transplanted, protected, and nurtured them so that I now have several dozen growing and blooming in my gardens and plenty more still in the woods behind my house.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think of Jack-in-the-Pulpit as the quintessential New England wildflower, though I'm told it can be found as far west as Minnesota and as far south as Florida. It is most certainly a plant found in the moist coniferous woods of the northeast, much like two of my other favorites—the Trillium and the Lady's Slipper. But Jack is so adorable—the cute little guy standing tall in his pulpit covered with a stunning purple and green striped hoodie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jack in-the-pulpit</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Preaches to-day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Under the green trees</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Just over the way. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Squirrel and song-sparrow,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> High on their perch,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hear the sweet lily-bells</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Ringing to church. </span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Come, hear what his reverence</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In his low painted pulpit</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> This calm Sabbath day.</span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Christine Cote</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Shanti Arts</span>Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-83619692731097374162014-05-28T09:24:00.000-04:002014-05-28T09:24:51.143-04:00Genuine Silence<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It took a long time this year for spring to arrive in northern New England. But, finally, it is here. The leaves are mostly out, the forsythia is in bloom, and a few hummingbirds have zipped by me while out in the garden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When spring arrives, we head north to our cabin in the woods. Our cabin is near the end of a six-mile long dirt road, so we have to be absolutely certain that the mud has dried up before we start the trip. We’ve gotten stuck in the mud before, about half-way in, and had to walk the rest of way to get an ATV to go back to pull out the truck. You only do that once and the lesson is learned—wait until the end of mud season.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This year, we had no such trouble. We arrived at our cabin on May 23 for a long weekend. The weather was gorgeous and the pesky black flies, generally out thick on Memorial Day weekend, were still nowhere to be found.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, on the morning of May 24, I stepped out the front door of our cabin to walk down to see the lake and I was immediately reminded of one of the most wonderful things about the woods up north. Silence.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">C. B. Cote, <i>Silence</i>.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">No traffic. No machinery. No voices. Nothing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Silence—genuine silence—is hard to find. It’s not easy to get away from the sounds of society. But when you find it, it’s like experiencing cool water on a blistering hot day. Silence is refreshing, soothing, joyful. It feels unbelievably wonderful as it washes over you. Like water, silence flows over your body, following every curve and seeping into every pore. It surrounds you like a soft blanket.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Contrary to what we might be led to believe, silence is not nothing. Silence is not a lack of something . . . a lack of sound. Silence is something all to itself. Genuine silence can be felt. It is thick and full and rich. It is fresh and pure. Silence is life-giving. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“In some places, silence can be an emptiness that is paradoxically, full. You do not occupy this silence; it occupies you.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mark C. Taylor, <i>Recovering Place</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Shanti Arts</span>Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-71145752678313753192014-05-14T08:38:00.000-04:002014-05-14T08:38:52.360-04:00Away by the Pond<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I want to go soon and live away by the pond, where I shall hear only the wind whispering among the reeds. It will be success if I shall have left myself behind. But my friends ask what I will do when I get there. Will it not be employment enough to watch the progress of the season?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">~ Henry David Thoreau</span><br />
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<br />Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-65703099945770885562014-05-04T10:56:00.001-04:002014-05-04T13:00:25.935-04:00The Trouble With Thurber<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Shanti Arts recently released </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.shantiarts.co/uploads/files/thurber_nothing.html" target="_blank"><b>Nothing But Trouble</b></a></i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> by the renowned master of the short story </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://home.comcast.net/~bob_thurber/bobthurber.net/bobthurber.net/index.html" target="_blank">Bob Thurber</a></b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;">. My first encounter with Thurber was when he submitted a short essay for </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><b><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/" target="_blank">Stone Voices</a></b></i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> titled “The Cheap and Gaudy Heart.” We published the piece in the </span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/uploads/files/SV4_SUM12_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank">summer of 2012</a></b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; text-align: justify;">. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>Oddly, rather mysteriously, some of us are more malleable than others. Implanted with some essential and ancient aptitude that we can take no credit for. I was fortunate, almost clever, not quite bright, but able to adjust. Like Siddhartha, I was able to fast, and think, and wait. I survived by my wits, gritting my teeth, taking my beatings, clutching my belly against hunger, determined to outlast one suffering event after another, constantly observing, studying every sting, every soreness. I learned as I burned. And I grew, and I adjusted (or maladjusted) but I endured.</i></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I learned more about Thurber from reading about him on Goodreads and various blogs, I was compelled to read his “dysfunctional novel,” <i>Paperboy</i>. It was a good decision on my part. The book grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I read the book in one day; it’s short, so that’s not saying much, but I simply could not put the book down. When I would look up off the page for a moment, I just stared ahead, feeling numb and shaken, as if I’d been slapped in the face. Dark, gritty, raw, wrenching. I never knew there were people and situations like those I met in <i>Paperboy</i>. But now I know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thurber describes himself as an old (not true because he and I were born the same year), self-taught writer who grew up dirt poor in Rhode Island. He worked at writing every day for twenty years before submitting his work for publication. He went on to publish three hundred short fictions and collect more than forty awards and citations, including The Barry Hannah Fiction Prize, the Meridian Editors' Prize, and the Marjory Bartlett Sanger Award.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His stories are rough and tough, sometimes disturbing. Still, they’re hard to put aside. Something about his straightforward, succinct, and, dare I say, sincere writing style keeps you tethered to his work. I think it’s because his writing is true—not in the sense of being autobiographical—but in the sense that they germinate and grow from that place in him that remembers his difficult beginnings. His background is the breeding ground for his stories. So they are true, coming forth from his experiences, his difficulties, and, as he says, his ability to endure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve thought about this quite a lot—how traumatic and difficult experiences impact and shape our lives and our creative endeavors. Thurber works through his difficult life experiences by writing and churning out stories. Others paint or make photographs or act on stage or write poems. As a photographer, I am often asked for an artist statement, just as I ask for one from the artists whose work I feature on our website or in our publications. For the first several years of my work with photography, I rewrote my statement dozens of times. Then, one day it hit me. For me, it’s quite simple. I make photographs because it makes everything right. It helps me to make sense of the world. I think that’s what art is all about—making sense of what is happening to us and around us and in us. When an artist does this successfully, the work is true, not in the sense of being autobiographical, but in the sense of touching upon Truth, with a capital T. </span><span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thurber,
with a capital T, is a successful writer. His work uncovers some difficult
parts of humanity, but, in his own wonderful way, his work makes sense of the
world. Maybe it’s because buried deep within his dark and difficult tales,
there is hope. And hope is what makes everything right.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Nothing But Trouble</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><b>Stories by Bob Thurber<br />
Images by Vincent Louis Carrella</b></span><span style="color: black;"><b></b></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">$22.95 | </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">ISBN: 978-0-9885897-6-6</span><span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">available at <a href="http://www.shantiarts.com/"><b>www.shantiarts.com</b></a>, </span></span><br />
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<span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">and many fine bookstores</span></span><br />
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<span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Christine Cote</span></span><br />
<span class="style94"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">May 4, 2014</span></span>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-25314345465610848172014-04-04T10:21:00.000-04:002014-04-04T10:21:09.310-04:00My Heart Rests on A Drawing Lesson<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It finally felt a bit like spring yesterday. The temperature was near fifty and there was no wind, so it felt warm and hopeful. There is still quite a lot of snow and ice in our yard. It softens and melts a bit during the day, and then freezes hard during the night when temperatures fall below freezing. But there was a promise of spring yesterday, and I took some time to enjoy it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I made a trip to Portland to run some errands and see the exhibit <b><i><a href="http://www.portlandmuseum.org/exhibitions-collections/current.shtml" target="_blank">Fine Lines: American Drawings</a></i></b> at the Portland Museum of Art. The exhibit features one hundred drawings from the collection of the Brooklyn Museum. In this era of color and multi-media creations, we don't often have the chance to look at drawings made simply of graphite or charcoal on paper. </span></div>
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<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/proxy/8hMIq76mABGeGXq5RxHG97I1CzJwqJUJiFd6QH33dKqBquTk_Ci631cncSmo9KzOiFvydMbY9BPUwrMj1ZKJRCum6XlwEgH677kHgYAHRE6W1cBfqKJOJpNhUMm1g3ocMoUirBA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img alt="Brooklyn Museum: A Drawing Lesson" border="0" src="http://cdn2.brooklynmuseum.org/images/opencollection/objects/size2/19.186_PS4.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My favorite was <i>A Drawing Lesson</i> (1865) by Constantine Hertzberg. The museum provided magnifying glasses with which to look at the pieces, and I used one to examine and admire this beautiful piece. The subject is charming. The detail and technique is spectacular. The composition is perfect—notice how the large lush tree with all of its precisely-drawn leaves reaches around the top right of the scene and shelters the three people during their lesson; on the opposite corner, the stone walkway leads the viewer to the top of the ledge on which the women sit for their lesson; the focal point is the outstretched arm of the gentleman meeting the upward look of the woman, and this gesture guides the viewer to look at the bright background scene that the women are presumably drawing. The scene is genteel. The execution is dazzling. On a day when spring was in the air, this piece felt utterly delightful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On another day, I might have been entranced by something entirely different, perhaps something minimalist in execution or something abstract. The exhibition has tremendous variety. But on this day, my heart found a resting place with <i>A Drawing Lesson</i>. I think I might have to return to see what my heart enjoys on another day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Christine Cote</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">April 4, 2014</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Robert D. Richardson, author of <i>Henry Thoreau: A Life of the Mind</i>, said of Thoreau: "He always insisted that his whole life was one of extraordinary luck, and he could have said, as Picasso did of a similar life, 'I do not seek, I find.'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>I do not seek, I find</i>. For a long time, I had these words scrawled on a piece of paper that was pinned to the bulletin board above my desk. The greatest things in my life haven't been things I looked for, they were things I stumbled upon. What I provided was the willingness to see them and draw them into my life. It would have been so easy to pass them by, but my passion for discovery and my drive to not be limited by what is possible led me to places and opportunities that have shaped and defined me. Some times I feel as if I move along on a kind of moving walkway, never knowing what lies ahead, always being surprised, and, like Thoreau, feeling that every moment is one of extraordinary luck. </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uYZ6t2o5bTc/UxS5GPWJFlI/AAAAAAAAFJg/nm7TSxZvRxE/s1600/vincent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uYZ6t2o5bTc/UxS5GPWJFlI/AAAAAAAAFJg/nm7TSxZvRxE/s1600/vincent.jpg" height="200" width="188" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the current issue of <i>Stone Voices</i> (Spring 2014), columnist Vincent Louis Carrella writes about the beautiful surprise. "I'm not looking for anything in particular, only the fascinating discovery I've come to call the beautiful surprise." With camera and notebook, Carrella takes off on vision quests, walking through nature, listening, watching, waiting, discovering. His camera bears witness to his discoveries; it documents the gifts that present themselves. Carrella knows too that his life is one of extraordinary luck, for he sees himself as a " . . . child watching God's magic show, an endless array of jaw-dropping tricks."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Choose not to seek. Choose to find . . . a beautiful surprise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Read Carrella's entire column <a href="http://www.stonevoices.co/uploads/files/SV11_SPR14_CARRELLA.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Christine Cote, Publisher and Editor</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Shanti Arts Publishing</span></div>
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Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-59063530254274978502014-02-25T14:25:00.000-05:002014-02-25T14:36:35.712-05:00Patience, Why?<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sr2cnDFhByU/UwztnxNkQLI/AAAAAAAAFIc/OcnMrn0pgcA/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sr2cnDFhByU/UwztnxNkQLI/AAAAAAAAFIc/OcnMrn0pgcA/s1600/photo.jpg" height="200" width="161" /></a>Over the years I've made a number of quilts. I learned about quilts when I lived in Indiana, and I quickly discovered that the whole process was more enjoyable and relaxing when done without a sewing machine. So I starting making quilts by sewing all the pieces together with nothing but a needle, thread, and a thimble, and then I stitched the pieced top to the batting and the back—again entirely by hand. Obviously, it took a long time to complete a bed-size quilt, but, for whatever reason, getting it done quickly wasn't the point. For me, I loved the process. </div>
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One day someone was looking at my work and said, "I would never have the patience to do something like this." The comment confused me; it didn't make sense. I never thought that I needed patience to make these pieces entirely by hand. And now, thanks to Theresa Sweeney, columnist for <i><a href="http://www.stone-voices.com/" target="_blank"><b>Stone Voices</b>,</a></i> I understand why the comment didn't make sense to me. </div>
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In the <a href="http://www.stone-voices.com/uploads/files/SV11_SPR14_PREVIEW.html" target="_blank"><b>spring 2014 issue</b></a> of Stone Voices, Sweeney begins her column, "The Art of Patience," like this:</div>
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<i>As an artist I work in all media, but drawing with pen and ink has always been my first love. When people look at my intricate and detailed images, they often say, "Wow, I would never have the patience to do something like that!" I tell them that it really has nothing to do with patience. Patience is what you need when you're standing in line at the register and the salesclerk calls for a price check for the woman in front of you . . . . Times like those are when you need to willfully summon restraint to cope with the gap between what is happening and what you wish were happening.</i> </blockquote>
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So I understand now why the comment about patience didn't make sense to me; patience is not what's needed when making art. In fact, Sweeney says that if you need patience when engaged in an artistic endeavor, walk away. It's quite possible that you are tethered to your expectations, fixated on the outcome. </div>
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Art is a voyage of discovery. Leonardo da Vinci advised us: <i>Do not be tethered to your expectations. </i>By wanting a certain outcome we jeopardize what wants to have life. We endanger the passion and joy and flow of the process—and that is art. </div>
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Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5305976984279358396.post-4510178782320039852014-02-17T21:25:00.000-05:002014-02-17T21:25:54.909-05:00Hope: The Last to Die<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Sometime last week I received in the mail a complimentary copy of I<i>ndie Spiritualist: A No Bullshit Exploration of Spirituality</i>. I've been spending a bit of time every evening watching the Winter Olympics, but I still have to have a book in my hands, and this seemed like a good choice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The work of Chris Grosso, the book starts like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>"Hope, it's the last to die," said an elderly man sitting across from me some years ago on a bus in Rome at 2:00 AM. He'd just read the word hope tattooed across my knuckles, and I have to say that, in my own personal life experience, man, was he right. Life is full of terror and beauteous rapture, and I've experienced both on numerous occasions. From a life filled with despair, jail, emergency rooms, detoxes, and rehabs, to one of hope.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">C. B. Cote, <i>Beyond (8)</i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hope . . . I remember telling a therapist many years ago that I had a lot of hope and a good amount of faith, but I struggled with love. I've always been very hopeful . . . an optimist, a dreamer, focused always on what is possible, fully convinced that good will always overcome evil and light will always pierce the darkness. During the very lowest point of my life, when I found myself gripped by the emotional and physical pain of depression, I still had hope; the darkness was thick and dense, but I could sense a tiny, dim light. Eventually the light grew stronger and I was restored to full life. From my experience, I have to agree—hope is the last to die, perhaps because without hope, we would die.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In this way, hope is like art. Without it, we have nothing. It occurs to me that art may actually be a physical manifestation of hope, and hope, I now realize, is what I manifest every time I work as an artist; hope, I now realize, is what I feel every time I connect with art. Art centers us, holds us in the moment, and in that moment, with everything else have fallen away, we experience hope. </span></div>
Christine Brooks Cotehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03330505438567952963noreply@blogger.com0