There are moments of glimmer. Hope sparks. They arise unexpectedly from soul touches.
You are bound by many things yet your mind roams the realms without boundaries. Your spirit is heightened by simple gestures. Words of gentle tones. Smiles of a beloved face. Lift your own countenance up so ancient angst can glide off. It may linger yet grounded it will never reach the levels of raised appreciation.
A Short Story Collection of vignettes and stories over time, out of time. After three poetry books, the LOGBOOK collection, and my HISTORICAL FICTION NOVEL “A QUEST FOR LONGITUDE” follows THE NUTSHELL TALES as a selection of little worlds seen in each nutshell.
A wider point of view on ordinary and worldly things Bourne from experiences of transposition from homeland to homestead enlivens words to become stories, tales from outer and inner worlds. Every nutshell a fragment of a kaleidoscopic resounding experience.
Sometimes we are clouded. Our own judgement or others. We have lost the blue and bright. We drift before an obscured sun. Approaching Loreley was playing it all out. What is the meaning of this? How can I understand what is so unclear. High up I try to make out features, form, shapes as the boat of life turns slowly. Then, the clouds are suddenly in our backs, the open stream in front of us beckoning to move. Forward!
ILLUMINATION presents miniatures, details and magnifications of Harry Clarke stained glass of Cavan cathedral highlighted and transposed in watercolour on paper with calligraphy in ink. They are seen through the artists eyes, in different intensity of light. Sunlight filtered through brilliant tints leaded, etched, painted and thus enhanced into spectral monuments are perceived in choices of colour and watered brushstrokes. A motion of meditation, solarpowered inspiration to translate zeitgeist and identity of a connection between artists in both media, paper and glass. On a cloudy day there are still striking colours in Harry Clarke’s windows. Every minuscule ornament is part of a composition of balance. While sketching on different days with different intensity of sunlight details came back and forth according to their colour and shape. There’s life in them. I illuminated my findings in watercolour and paper, in awe. Andrea Connolly
Resolve and resilience is at the heart of a living being.
Growing old with burdens, pain and oppression, yet, growing.
There is a map on your body that tells stories of utmost treasure. It is most visible at dawn, in the softest light. You extended your roots. What once was in your infanthood and by vernal adventures reached a threshold. Now you reach up to the sky, out wide to be stark.
Roots want to see the light and you make your story seen to the attentive eye.
There are subtle signs of winter breathing his last breath for this cycle. Some go by calendar, by moon, by folklore or by the lengthening of days.
Some say winter is coming in any season.
Antarctica is covered in ice and snow never to loose most of its cap.
The globe is frost in relations, fire in war. World leaders struggle in winter minds of eternal frost and one might think spring will never be the same again. Human minds will never be just lead by words. Appearances and guises of the mind lead to believe. Truth is true or twisted. Alternative was once organic. Now it is fiction. Will we ever shed our winter minds to admire snow drops, blue bells and daffodils again? It seems naïve to even wish such a thing. And yet, nature helps us cope with changes. It gives us hope to find other human beings believing in the future. Beyond all human machinations there is another world awaiting where love is not just a word. We live in a vast galaxy hoping to be somehow held by divine intervention .