Whimsey’s Gate (#writephoto)

  Cunning threshold Where green inks Chiselled stone, Where whimsey Herself is enthroned,   Her maidens inches from each path In imprints of each grown child’s laugh, A secret garden we may never know And so, we seek the inner world it fed; Fertile forests where thoughts are sown Into primordial seedbeds.   Antonia Sara…

Time, Light and The Artist

…Time is our collaborator and our adversary as artists. Authors bend the passage of time in story arcs, suspense, and romantic timing. Comedians craft the pace of words and motion into jokes. Cinematographers and film directors focus our perceptions with the length of each shot, our mind lingering where the camera points. Painters decide where shadows fall. All art has its own relationship with the ticking clock and the Earth’s rotation around the sun….

The Scent of a Story

I’ve always found one of the best environments for telling stories is around a campfire. For me it is more than the images in the flickering flame; it’s the smell of woodsmoke and that hiss of resistance before the crackle as the fire leaps. Above us is the sight of stars, around us is the…