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new print in shop

a photo of a mixed media painting by angela amias

  -from the other side of silence. mixed media on wood panel. 9x12- As I was finishing this painting today and waiting for the title to come to me, these lines from Theodore Roethke's poem, Journey to the Interior were running through my head: On the one side of silence there is no smile; But when I breath with the birds, The spirit of wrath becomes the spirit of blessing, And the dead begin from the dark to sing in my sleep. In other news, I am in the process of setting up my Etsy shop so it will be easier to buy framed originals. I...

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creative discoveries and new prints in my shop

photo of poetry collage

Ok, this may only be exciting to one person (me) but I still have to share. For the last thirteen years, I have experimented with a bazillion ways to combine handwritten or typewritten text with collage in a way that's aesthetically pleasing to me. I've tried printing text on lots of different papers- transparencies, vellum, tissue paper, rice paper, tracing paper, etc. etc.- and I've tried lots of transfer techniques with gel medium and wax and even Chartpak markers (despite the cancer-causing chemical warning- yikes.) None of these methods ever gave me a satisfying result. BUT!...

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what makes me happy today

I've spent the last year painting, painting, painting. In the process, I neglected my blog- as previously, and somewhat guiltily, acknowledged- and other than my daily journaling practice, I haven't written anything in the last year. Which is sad because I love language. I love words- the sound of words, the shapes of words on paper, and the way they can express meaning so differently depending on how they are used. When I was a teenager, I wrote bad poetry and it gave me such a thrill just to see my own words on the page. The...

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I am…

[caption id="attachment_929" align="alignnone" width="926"] having a poetry morning. I am not someone who has favorite poets so much as favorite poems and within these poems, favorite lines. Lines that make my skin prickle, my breath catch, my heart beat faster. Afterward, I have to take time to settle myself again.Today, it is Theodore Roethke's What Can I Tell My Bones?[/caption] My spirit rises with the rising wind; I'm thick with leaves and tender as a dove, I take the liberties a short life permits-- I seek my own meekness; I recover my tenderness by long looking. By midnight I love everything...

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