THE 9 x 5 inch ART HISTORY
The Heidelberg School, in Melbourne Victoria
Was the artist’s school, in South-eastern Australia
In eighteen eighty nine, a hundred years ago
began our famous nine by fives picture show
No!....... Not of the moving kind
Ones that hang and last with time.
Artists’ like Condor, Roberts,
McCubbin and Streeton
These boys knew their stuff,
and were not to be beaten
Brandishing their brushes and easels in awe
Painting and dabbing, all of what they saw
Working, nine by five inch on cigar box lids
Land and seascapes,
wasn't all that they did
Their Pallets, they blended with localised colour
They're styles they developed, like not any other
‘Australian Impressionists’ branded by critics
they shocked the likes of painting traditionalists.
They were the innovators of their time
With 9 X 5 Exhibition, August 17.1889.
Over 200 paintings were in this show
Though the critics jeered and crowed
Paintings at 3 pounds 3 shillings and 3 pence
And four thousand people were in attendance
Yes, the critics they laughed and scoffed
Not knowing that they would sell the lot
So once a year we keep this tradition
In hopes to gain the same recognition.
The Masters have given us all so much
We assemble our paintings, and artistry stuff
The changes taken place in a hundred years
Still have not deterred, the art critics leers.
TeAnne © Oct. 12. 1998
I PAINTED HIM
He had never had a wife,
nor even a lady friend.
None, that I can recall!
He kept his secrets within.
His mother was a streetwalker
She lived just up the road.
Our attractions were acute
I opened my heart, I let him in.
He had no formal education
only the things I could teach
He wasn't overly streetwise
he was young when we met.
It was hard for him to socialize
with my kind of folks.
He'd rather laze in an easy chair
or curl up and watch a TV show.
He wasn't a food connoisseur
nor a drinker of fine wine
But to know him was euphoric
he was comfort to have around.
I tried to bring him life
on this canvas of utter white.
For pure was his colour
It was hard to capture light.
I painted a beautiful boy today
but not in the human sense.
But of soft white fur and
eyes of great discernment.
TeAnne. May 16. 1999
IMAGE ENLIGHTENMENT
Colours in thought
reflections in my chest
transpired images
us
on the screen of life
abundant desires
worked in camouflage
rainbows for all to see.
TeAnne. Feb. 28.1998
BACK
All rights reserved. TeAnne
1993 ©
THEORY
How do I work thru' this
the theory oh so very dull
I’d rather paint a scenic view
then live in this lull.
*****
A poet with writers block is bad enough
and painting pushed aside
for this rotten old essay
my lecturer is insisting that I write.
*****
To pass this module
and professional artist become
I find this theory
will only make me dull to some.
*****
I want to paint my pictures
with brush strokes not a pen
I don't wanna be a theorist
and from my colours be apart
Only need my brush
to live and love my art..........
TeAnne © Mar 17. 1998
Actual size. 6ft X 6ft Acrylic on Board.
THE ICON!
T hinking of you as this Picasso apes
I ncantations radio waves
T unes of yesterdays delights
L ove songs lingered
E volving metaphysical
D elineate
"
R eds whites and blues
U mbers yellows and orange
N egative shapes, shadows
N estling in tonal dimensions
I cons delegate space
N atures hues
G rounds for dreams
"
TeAnne © March 27. 1998
" VINCENT "
Oh poor Vincent
how you suffered
your life so spent
Scorned
Your work in mines
and above
but all you had in your heart
was love
As if you were no other
given the name of your brother
he
before you
dead one year
With mingled emotions
you severed your ear
Your awareness of brush
well honed
Sunflowers
yellow
adorning walls in gallery's
and homes
Lavishly stroked portraits
you painted
So young your death
T'was fated
A starving artist
and madman they said
But look who is a rich man
dead.
TeAnne © Jan 29.1998
Writing Arts Sanity
| I don't think
I am quite as serious
about my writing
As I am about my art.
Though writing will express
What my brushes cannot.
I can adopt a Pollock
or a Kandinsky attitude.
Hurl myself against a canvas
and call it Expressions, I and 2 .
By writing/painting what I feel
I can create a little rigid box
plant myself within the boundaries
and call myself accomplished.
Sometimes I am peculiar
I shouldn't be on display.
But then, all my friends
Are weird. This sets us
Apart from the 'norm'
Who declare they are sane.
TeAnne © June 12. 2000 |
|
In Need of a Literary Genie.
| Basking in a Van Gogh landscape,
I am one of Shakespeare's players
in his world playhouse with a
Beethoven symphony booming.
'Roll over' the Beatles sang his praise.
Don paid homage to Vincent while
some try to emulate William.
It's like rubbing shoulders
with the departed, who really have not.
Hero worship because
I feel inadequate amid this
society of dead poets, painters,
writers and musicians who made it.
Happen.
TeAnne June 7. 2000 |
|
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