Archive for the ‘Painting’ Tag
Old Farm Junk By a Shad in Willowsprings, AZ — Painting by kenne
The shed door sighs open,
its hinges trembling
with a worn vibrato—
a reed instrument fashioned
from stubborn wood and time.
That wavering note
brushes my chest,
and something inside
loosens, answers.
I step into the dim interior
where shadows keep company
with the tools no longer needed,
and I feel the strange comfort
of being admitted again
to the places I’ve outgrown.
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Lupine Art — Painting by kenne
I think of how often beauty hides in plain sight—
the slender stem, the trembling petals,
the way blue cradles purple
like a blessing.
In this painting,
spring is not a season
but a small awakening of the heart.
— kenne
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Illusion — Image by kenne
Invented Frames
We live inside the scaffolds we’ve drawn—
lines of thought mistaken for walls,
for safety, for truth.
Every morning, we reassemble them:
beliefs, titles,
the quiet architecture of purpose.
We speak as if the frameworks were air,
as if their edges weren’t of our own making—
words pressed into meaning,
meaning pressed into habit.
But look closely:
the seams glow faintly,
the way a photograph
burns at its borders—
revealing not nothing,
but the hand that held the match.
To see that,
to accept the illusion and still go on—
that is the closest thing
to being.
— kenne
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Self-portrait (07/30/10,11:36:01 PM)
Self-Portrait Titled Intellectual Ignorance
yeah,
that’s what I called it.
sounded clever at the time—
like I knew something
about the world.
I had read Sartre and Camus,
underlined all the wrong lines,
and drank enough cheap bourbon
to mistake despair for wisdom.
I thought too much,
said too little,
wrote like a man digging
with a spoon.
the mirror didn’t care.
it just looked back—
same tired eyes,
of a life pretending
to be deep.
call it what you want,
a portrait,
a confession,
a joke—
hell, maybe I got it right after all:
it is intellectual ignorance
to think I could ever
paint myself true.
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Decatur Street Painting by kenne (2007)
The House That Leans to Jazz
That old house on Decatur—
it doesn’t stand, it sways.
The shutters keep time with the sax
that drifts up from the corner bar,
and the porch boards hum
when the bass walks slow.
You can feel the brick loosen,
just enough to breathe,
just enough to remember
what it meant to move with grace.
There’s a trumpet caught in the rafters,
a whisper of silk on the banister,
and the ghosts of every hot night
press their hands to the walls
like lovers keeping rhythm.
The house leans—not from age,
but from music—
as if the whole damn structure
had learned
how to swing.
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Sedona Red Rock Country — Painting by kenne
1.
red stone sings—
shadows stitched
to light.
2.
rust & bone,
rocks burning
without fire.
3.
the canyon
keeps color,
time stacked
in silence.
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Lake Woodlands Sunset — A Painting from A 1999 Photo by kenne
Restoring the old
Creating a new essence
For the observer.
— kenne
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American Avocets — Painting by kenne
These long-legged waders have long necks,
thin bills, and striking patterns. They forage i
n shallow water for small invertebrates.
In the Sonoran Desert, they often nest around artificial ponds.
— kenne
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Isla del Sol Painting by kenne
Isla del Sol
Sun warms my skin
thawing winter away
from snow capped Andes
misting over blue waters
that sparkle in yellow and pinks
playing tricks on my eyes.
A native woman nurses her child
behind a blanket, multicolored fluorescents,
and coos her to the rocking of the boat.
On land, sunlight bleaches my eyes along
white salted paths.
My hands have turned rosy and cracked
like the round cheeks of Bolivian children.
Short of breath I find stone ruins,
Incan work at the edge of a hillside
and a million doorways and windows
jump out to the sunlit lake
— Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo
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Sabino Creek — Image by kenne
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painting by Wefail.art
Nay, nay, we are but crucified, and though
The bloody sweat falls from our brows like rain
Loosen the nails - we shall come down I know,
Staunch the red wounds - we shall be whole again,
No need have we of hyssop-laden rod,
That which is purely human, that is godlike, that is God.
-- from Humanitad by Oscur Wilde
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Butterfly Painting by kenne
The Butterfly
I hold you at last in my hand,
Exquisite child of the air.
Can I ever understand
How you grew to be so fair?
You came to my linden tree
To taste its delicious sweet,
I sitting here in the shadow and shine
Playing around its feet.
Now I hold you fast in my hand,
You marvelous butterfly,
Till you help me to understand
The eternal mystery.
From that creeping thing in the dust
To this shining bliss in the blue!
God give me courage to trust
I can break my chrysalis too!
— Alice Freeman Palmer
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Shoreline Sunset — Painting by kenne
A peaceful sunset
Bringing the day to an end
Over the shoreline.
— kenne
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Shoreline Paint by kenne
“The trouble with sunsets is that they have to end.”
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Painting by Paul Klee — MoMA The Museum of Modern Art
Paul Klee was a Swiss-born German artist and philosopher. His highly individual style was influenced
by movements in art that included expressionism, cubism, and surrealism. Wikipedia
For those of you who follow this blog (kenneturner.com) titled “Becoming is Superior to Being,” know that’s a Paul Klee quote.
With all the media talk about “Childless Cat Ladies,” I feel driven to share this Klee painting.
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