Desert Morning — Abstract Art by kenne
— kenne
Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
Forest Floor — Mixed Art by kenne
— kenne
Photo-Artistry by kenne
To the man, to the woman
who utilized their
energies, goodness, strength,
anger, love, tenderness,
to those who truly
alive
flowered,
and in their sensuality matured,
let us not apply
the measure
of a time
that may be
something else, a mineral
mantle, a solar
bird, a flower,
something, maybe,
but not a measure.
Time, metal
or bird, long
petiolate flower,
stretch
through
man’s life,
shower him
with blossoms
and with
bright
water
or with hidden sun.
I proclaim you
road,
not shroud,
a pristine
ladder
with treads
of air,
a suit lovingly
renewed
through springtimes
around the world.
— from Ode To Age by Pablo Neruda
Texas Two Step — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— Joseph Mitchell
Metal Art On the Road to Santa Fe — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Everybody’s talkin’ at me
I don’t hear a word they’re saying
Only the echoes of my mind
People stopping, staring
I can’t see their faces
Only the shadows of their eyes
— from Everybody’s Talkin’ by Fred Neil
The Hanging Tree — Photo-Artistry by kenne
La Fonda on the Plaza Lobby, Santa Fe, New Mexico (May 19, 2021) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
La Fonda on the Plaza holds a coveted place in Santa Fe history, a component in a rich tapestry of hospitality that
predates American independence. City records indicate that La Fonda sits on the site of the town’s first inn, established
when the city was founded by Spaniards in 1607, making the property the oldest hotel corner in America.
— Source: https://www.lafondasantafe.com/
Life On Earth — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Life On Earth…
LIFE ON EARTH is pulled down hard on a man’s head.
This life was made by hatters.
A busy street is only coffee, bread, and hats.
The smell of a man’s hat – an old man’s hat –
is like the nostril of a horse.
You are breathing in what something beautiful
and ancient has breathed out.
The heat and life contained in it, the silk interior.
An old man’s hat is necessary:
You see that when he takes it off,
his hair and skin abruptly float away.
— David Keplinger
Horse Head — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
Corner Window (Hotel Santa Fe the Hacienda & Spa) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Santa Fe’s Only Native American Owned Hotel
In Partnership with The Picuris Pueblo
Horse Corral On The Arizona National Scenic Trail (One of Two Art Pieces On the Same Location) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar kine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
— from The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot
Old Tucson — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— kenne
Cactus Flower — Photo-Artistry by kenne
— Georgia O’Keeffe
