Isabelle Arsenault is a Montreal based illustrator who got her start in graphic design. You can see some of her work below, and more on her website.
Born in upper Nyack, New York to a prosperous dry-goods merchant, Hopper studied illustration and painting in New York City at the New York Institute of Art and Design. One of his teachers, artist Robert Henri, encouraged his students to use their art to "make a stir in the world". Henri, an influence on Hopper, motivated students to render realistic depictions of urban life. Henri's students, many of whom developed into important artists, became known as the Ashcan School of American art. Hopper studied under Henri for ten years.
Upon completing his formal education, Hopper made four trips to Europe to study the emerging art scene there, but unlike many of his contemporaries who imitated the abstract cubist experiments, the idealism and detail of the realist painters resonated with Hopper. His early projects reflect the realist influence with an emphasis on colour and shape. Eschewing the usual New England subjects of seascapes or boats, Hopper was attracted to Victorian architecture, although it was no longer in fashion. According to Boston Museum of Fine Arts curator Carol Troyen, "He really liked the way these houses with their turrets and towers and porches and mansard roofs and ornament cast wonderful shadows. He always said that his favorite thing was painting sunlight on the side of a house."
While he worked for several years as a commercial artist, Hopper continued painting with moderate success yet not as much as he yearned for. He sold a variety of small prints and watercolors to tourists and minor publication yet received only a casual if warm response from curators and gallery owners.
Continue reading the biography at Wikipedia, or visit the Smithsonian's Edward Hopper Scrapbook.
You can also listen to a podcast discussing the art of Edward Hopper on the Diane Rehm Show. A gallery of images is included so you can follow along with the discussion.
Below is a selection of Hopper's paintings:
"Not Your Black Sheep"
They're just afraid of what they don't understand.
"Not Your Scapegoat"
Don't let them keep you down.
"Not Your Show Pony"
It's not your job to make them look good.
Be sure to visit the creative evolutions store for other t-shirts--
plus prints, posters, magnets, postcards and more.
People who see the Internet clip of Texas-born Carolyn Scott performing a song from "Grease" with her golden retriever Rookie are riveted to the screen. Thousands have sent her e-mails, many saying they cried with joy.
They know they're seeing something special between this woman and this dog as Rookie spins and grins at Scott in the relatively new sport of canine freestyle dance, but they can't quite put their finger on it.
"They look at that capacity for love and they want it," says Rochelle Lesser, a school psychologist who is making a documentary film on Scott and Rookie. "They can't comprehend anything that pure."
Scott, 58, and Rookie, 12, are making their first appearance together in the Northwest this weekend in Woodinville, where they will demonstrate and teach their technical skills for canine freestyle, which uses choreographed musical routines.
But their lessons in life are even more powerful.
Scott was scarred by polio that weakened her right side and damaged her self-confidence. She was shunned from people's houses out of fear when she was 4 years old.
As an adult, she grew too afraid to leave her house without the support of her husband, her high-school sweetheart.
Then she got Rookie, a submissive puppy who was fearful of people and tight places. He collapsed when confronted with anything new.
Their journey is a lesson in reading each other's strengths and the trust that comes from consistent, positive reinforcement.
"Through the process of working on his fears, I started addressing some of mine," said Scott, in a warm and moderated Texas accent by phone from her home in Houston.
Seeing the limits fear placed on Rookie's life allowed Scott to see how she limited her own life.
Today she and Rookie appear all over the country and on television, though Scott still has to talk herself through her nervousness.
She says she owes it all to that "little yellow dog." Though she worries about what will happen when Rookie grows too old to accompany her, she's made successful trips on her own for workshops in Japan and Australia. Norway is next.
"My husband is totally in shock, and so are my kids," Scott said. "I'm getting over the hump."
"You must do what you find hardest to do." — Eleanor Roosevelt
The journey for Scott began in 1950 when she contracted polio at age 4, just two years before the terrible disease reached its peak, afflicting 21,000 people in the U.S.
By the time she was released from a hospital for "crippled children" near Gonzales, Texas, her right leg was an inch and a half smaller than her left and the muscles had atrophied.
She hid her limp, just as President Roosevelt hid his paralysis after contracting the disease in 1921. FDR used arm strength and braces to appear in public as if he were standing.
"Most of us polio survivors did overcompensate," Scott says. "We worked hard and just focused on achieving. I didn't start talking about it until the last few years."
Much of her hard work as a child to rebuild her mobility has come back to haunt her. She wore her leg out, she says. She suffers continued deterioration on her ride side. Her left leg is starting to give from carrying the load.
Scott's first bond outside her family was with a collie. As an adult, she trained dogs for obedience.
But the handler must confine movement in obedience and Scott "wavered in the wind." She was afraid of falling and embarrassing herself. And when she got Rookie, she could see that obedience was too rigid for his fragile nature.
In 1996, when he was 3, she introduced him to the new sport of canine freestyle dance, a natural for him and for her.
They won — or, as she says, "he" won — the first national competition in the off-leash division, a highlight of her life.
"It was a process of discovery," Scott says. "I had no idea how much talent he had. I started watching him closely to see what he enjoyed doing."
She built his confidence by using a "clicker" device that signals to the dog immediately that he's doing the right thing and reward is on its way.
She taught him spins but he added throwing his feet in the air and other moves that give him such verve. Though she's trying to keep her balance, she lets him improvise.
"Then I reward him like crazy. He loves doing it."
Lesser, who's making the documentary, says she also has a fearful dog but she accepts the dog's limitations because she can't or won't put the hours in that Scott did with Rookie.
"Trust, me, when Carolyn had this fearful dog, this was her life; she was devoted to overcoming this," Lesser says. "The amount of hours she put into this would just amaze people. They just see the end product."
As a consequence, there is no other team like them, Lesser believes. No team that moves so much as one.
She's hoping her documentary, "Gotta Dance," will show that connection, raise money for canine oncology and deliver the message that people don't have to stop enjoying life because of difficulties.
"Unfortunately, Carolyn can't be who she is right now without what she went through," Lesser says. "She's just incredible. She has a real presence."
Instead of telling herself she's going to fall down and how frightened she is, Scott restructures her thoughts to tell herself she's going to do a good job. If she falls down, it's OK.
And if she questions herself, she has only to look at Rookie, whose natural personality was hidden under all that fear.
"All of us walk around masquerading ourselves," Scott says. "We don't let ourselves be vulnerable."
Scott taught Rookie that life is a fun game. She gives him random rewards and lets him play with people when they go out.
"Of course, now he thinks that's what they're there for," Scott said. "Both of our personalities have taken a change. He's confident and enjoying life — just like I am." (Via Seattle Times)
Gustav Klimt (July 14, 1862 – February 6, 1918) was an Austrian Symbolist painter and one of the most prominent members of the Vienna Art Nouveau (Vienna Secession) movement. His major works include paintings, murals, sketches and other art objects, many of which are on display in the Vienna Secession gallery. Klimt's primary subject was the female body, and his works are marked by a frank eroticism.
Klimt was born in Baumgarten, near Vienna, Austria, the second of seven children-- three boys and four girls. All three sons displayed artistic talent early on. His father, Ernst Klimt, formerly from Bohemia, was a gold engraver. Ernst married Anna Klimt (née Finster), whose unrealized ambition was to be a musical performer. Klimt lived in poverty for most of his childhood, as work was scarce and the economy difficult for immigrants. (Continue reading on Wiki, or view a timeline of Klimt's life.)
Below is a selection of Klimt's work. Keep in mind that photographs are a poor substitute, as many of his pieces are embedded with gold leaf.
I was recently commissioned by the SLCC Community Writing Center (CWC) to create cover art for their latest anthology and ad campaign. The anthology has been published, and these are the final results:
The CWC is the first non-academic writing center in the United States. It is a non-profit organization that offers a variety of free and low-cost programs to the public, including writing groups, writing coaching, and workshops. The Sine Cera anthology is a compilation of writing from a variety of CWC writing groups, and proceeds from sales help support the efforts of the CWC.
You can visit the Community Writing Center website here. The 2007 Sine Cera features the work of twenty-four writers, including non-fiction, creative non-fiction, and fiction. Below is an excerpt from this years anthology:
"Peg, my old terrier, walked stiffly out of the yard to greet me as I approached. I scooped her up in my arms and told her sadly, "She's gone, old girl. Sarah is gone."
Peg let out a "woof" and struggled to get down when she heard Sarah's name. I sat her back down on the sidewalk and watched as she looked for our Sarah. Finally she whined, disappointed, and followed me toward the house. I tiredly opened the door and entered the house to sit in my old recliner. Now I wept; now that no man could see me in my sorrow, the tears came in great racking sobs. Peg whimpered her sympathy as she tried to comfort me. Finally the tears slowed, then stopped.
I remembered how it had been those twenty-some years ago when I held her close and vowed, "Sarah May, I love you so much I'm going to explode."
She hugged hard and whispered, "Me too. Let's go back inside before we get foolish." We had engaged in a little petting and quit after one near mishap. We both vowed to wait for marriage, our marriage, because we wanted things done "just right".
"About now, I'm ready to get foolish as hell," I told her. She laughed and dragged me back inside so we could dance another slow dance together. It was the night of the senior prom and we guys all wore our dress suits and the girls were turned out in their formal best or party dresses. It was a magical night for the both of us--sadly, our last for all too many years."
75 years old, contributor to the Sine Cera Anthology 2007
Purchase your copy of Sine Cera: Two Old Guys From Brooklyn, and lend your support to the Community Writing Center. It's a wonderful organization, and all contributions are extremely appreciated.
Sine Cera 2007