Children

As you know, art without a wall of its own is sad, but today "Jane's Flowers Bloom" was adopted. To celebrate this momentous occasion is the legendary Phil Collins singing, "In the Mail Tonight".

Art Title:  Jane's Flowers Bloom
Art by:  Faith Magdalene Austin
Media:  Colored pencil, ink, card stock
Size:  4 x 7 inches
Finish: Acrylic seal, signed on the front and back, unmounted.
Style: Primitive, African Americana, Ethnic Folk Art

Jane's Flowers Bloom - SOLDTake it away Phil!Jane's Flowers Bloom - SOLD

Well I remembah, I remembah orange flurries, flurries, flurries
How could I ever forget
It's the first bloom,
the white moon
and an intimate moment.
But I know the reason why you kept your purse closed up,
Oh no you can't resist me.
Well the love it shows
and the heart it rose
with a flower from you to me
(enter awesome drum solo)
I can feel it coming in the mail tonight, hold on
I've been waiting for a wall of all my own, oh Lord, oh Lord
I'll be coming in the mail tonight oh Lord
for a wall
of my own. oh Lord  (end remake)

Me: Thank you so much Phil for coming to Sundrip to sing that classic song; a song for all time. What do you think Mary Jane, studio cat?
Mary Jane: That song chokes me up every time. He kills it on the drums. Amazing job Phil. Thanks for coming.
Me: Thanks to everyone who has given original art the only thing it's ever wanted, a wall of its own.

Is there wall space in your home? Can you open your heart to grant the wish of original art? If so, please visit my Available Art galleries as well as my Etsy shop. Contact me and we'll work together to stamp out homeless art.

Available Art. Available, too. Etsy shop. PayPalMe.

Faith Magdalene Austin
Artist
Mary Jane Austin
Studio Cat and Quality Control Manager

Content: The comment option has been turned off. 11:06 pm EST a man on meth and drunk upset a child and mother. Threat of violence to the mother and child. I yelled at them as the child screamed, "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy."

If I don't get this out of my head right now I won't be in any shape to finish the remainder of my evening in peace...and I do plan on spending it peacefully.

I'm shaking inside. I was in the restroom and the window was open. I heard a child screaming and crying "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." The child was in a lot of distress. It was an emotional call not a tantrum. He was emotional and screaming over and over, "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." I heard the mother tell the little one to be quiet because its late and people are sleeping. (not). He quieted down a little but then a man came up and started cursing and screaming at the woman. He called her all kinds of things while the child still cried. Things got even more heated and louder and louder to where it was going to explode into violence. I know that sound just before tipping point. I know that sound!

Both parents were yelling and screaming. I couldn't see them. It was too dark. As things got heated to the point where I feared someone would get hurt I just started yelling out my window, "Stop! Stop!" I just kept repeating it. When there was a moment of silence, and I mean a moment, I yelled to them, "For the baby, please stop!" There was only a fraction of a breath before they started again. It was like they realized someone else was in their world but then they started right back up so I started yelling again. Then it was just silent so I said (I didn't yell it) I said,  "For the baby, please, please stop." The man had to get in a few more words then they went their separate ways with him still running his mouth. The last insults included the stuff about him being drunk and on meth. ...continue reading

It's not pretty - this meadow of mineI posted a photo on my FB page about PTSD but later when I visited the page it linked back to, I erased it. There's probably valuable information on the page so I do not fault it for that. I removed the link because of the memes and quotes....and how they landed this hour of the night. In other words, they didn't do anything wrong......it's just hard right now. I'm ranting, anxious, triggered and tired.

Set off......

I completely object to the idea of showing PTSD as pretty, the same way I am disgusted by people showing Lupus in a dreamy way. I assure you, when I'm in pain I don't think about purple butterflies with trailing light. When I'm up this late I don't think about anything other than running from the brain vomit produced by PTSD.

I've been up too long, and I'm mad....at everything. I can't get myself to go to bed. It's hot and sticky. My brain won't shut off.  Why do I only think to take something for the anxiety when I'm far gone, like this?

I hate this world. I've thought recently of just walking away and living quietly in some place...who knows where......just some place. I'm weary, worn out and appalled by the human condition. I'm appalled by the lack of reason, the abundance of openly hating one another and purposeful harm in action and words. It's like there's blatant behavior to inflame and keep communities unsettled. From top to bottom people seem to want nothing more than to upset and destroy each other. It's hard to watch.

I want no part of loving anyone....or hating them.  ...continue reading

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'Denial - I Can't Accept This' digitalContent: suicide, anger, autopsy discussion, grief

The world moves forward but I feel stuck.

I can't call my aunts or my sister or cousins to share the grief, to encourage or be encouraged. I often feel alone with this. I feel broken. I've vomited out my heart. I no longer have one.

I tread waters of criticism when I say I can think of a hundred people who should take his place in a coffin. I have a hard time thinking that he's in a box decaying. My brother!!!! My boy is decaying!!! Really? Somewhere I read about a woman blogger whose mother died. She talked about how undignified death is. I can't remember which blogger it was, but she talked about how her mother's autopsy discussed her in ounces and pounds. To think there was an autopsy done on my boy is mentally terrifying. You cut up my boy? You weighed him like a pound of meat, sewed him up, put him on display, locked the lid then put dirt over it. You left him to the bugs. I'm mad that such barbarous acts were perpetrated against my loved one.

It's confusing and huge. It weighs down my shoulders and makes my eye lids heavy. I slightly drift to the left and rock just a little, back and forth. This death, this self murder, this selfish act haunts with a force powerful enough to freeze me in my tracks. ...continue reading

Strawberry Kisses - available

Summer will bring kids and their parents to my home which means tea and more tea with painting and more painting plus some history tossed in.

Depending on the country, the ceremony or party, the kids use traditional cups dated as late as the 1940's. My number of countries represented in tea is down to 38 countries because my Kenyan Ceylon container is empty. It's on my list of must have. We've got so many good stores around here but I can't seem to find one that will order this tea for me. I want the loose leaf by Safari.

I let the kids use vintage and antique cups without worrying too much about them breaking but I went ahead and retired my English rose tea pot. I'm a bit more protective of that one. No one uses my daily tea pot either. I'm even more protective of it. I don't fret a lot about the cups being broken but I do expect all to use them respectfully. If one should break then it'll do well as a planter and I can go to Goodwill and search for a replacement. Goodwill is where many online shops get their tea cups for which they charge exorbitant prices.

Here's a little article on West African tea 'ceremonies'. I've also started a collection of African recipes on my Pinterest page.

...continue reading

with all her imperfections fmaShe's a young one with sad eyes called "With all her imperfections."

Can you love her with all her imperfections? Can you forgive her moody ways, her tendency to frown instead of smile? Can you love her shyness, her uneven horizons?

She spits out poetry like she's on a stage show before college kids smoking herbal cigarettes and talking about diversity. She'll never fit in with them because she thinks they're shallow, but she can't bring herself to stop the verse.

Her eyes have been wide shut to ambition, calling it the true path to unhappiness. Her eyes have been wide shut to the clamor of panels on the news telling her how she should feel about the newest outrage, describing it as "woke". She can't stand it. She feels too much, says too much, writes too much and excels at imperfection, but she needs you to love her. With all her imperfections, can you still love her?

Her face is the canvas of her few years of life. There's still room on her cheeks for roses, still time for the love of life to kiss her lips pink. The brow line still rises and behind sad eyes there is living hope.

Can you still love her? With all her imperfections, can you still love her?

Faith
May 7, 2017 - 7:37pm ETS

Holding Back the Light - unavailable
Holding Back the Light - unavailable

I hugged the lady very tight. She knows my sister. She gave me an update. My sister has locked herself in the apartment and there is still no movement, no contact, nothing has changed. They do know she was last seen in there. No phone activity, no FB activity.

I hand wrote a letter to her. I said nothing negative at all. I said she doesn't deserve to die and that I understand a lot of what she's going through. I asked her to rethink things, to let her support system do what she gathered them to do. She sought out good, solid supporters.  I know 2 of them personally.

Of her friends, I asked them to have patience with her. She's a 50-year-old woman who doesn't know what to do with herself. She has to be told what to do and when she's told, she will do exactly as she's instructed. She won't do more or less. The lady kept looking at me like it should be simple for her to function because she's a 50-year-old woman. I said, she's not a 50-year-old woman who has matured. Being on her own is culture shock. She has no clue what she's doing, none. I shared the story that tells exactly how she thinks. I told the story about the garbage bag that my mother told her to get. She got the bag and then waited to be told to put the trash in it. Her friend put her hand over her mouth then said, that's exactly what she does. She waits to be told what to do.

I asked that they be gentle with her and understand that her eye sight is limited, ...continue reading

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Family Portrait - Loving Leah
Family Portrait - Loving Leah A mother is only as happy as her saddest child.

Now you know I have to write about this. I saw the question posed in an entry. As a matter of fact it was the entire entry. What is a mother's love?

My first reaction was to think I don't know because I've not ever felt it but that's not true. I do know what a mother's love is because I'm a natural nurturer. I was a foster mother light years ago.

A mother who loves her child seeks out the best for the child. She helps provide the basic needs but she also touches softly, gives a shoulder to fall asleep on. She cleans up cuts and scrapes. She teaches life skills and leads by example. She's prideful, strong, mild, meek, serious, playful and a thousand other personality traits that aren't detrimental to her child. She's not all at of it wrapped into one. She's an individual, not a character on TV.

...continue reading