11/20/13
Assignment: Ask the painting what it has to say.
By: Priscilla Burt
Based on: Franz Heigemeirs' paintings.
Alien
Bouquet:
You’re lost in space and that’s
okay. You have feelings and
thoughts. We want to hear them through
this image painted on the wall. I feel
your depth as you stare deeply into the darkness of my blues and blacks. I am a burst of light through the shadows on
the wall. It is all of its color bright
and bold, but I am not meant to distract you from this life untold. I am unfamiliar. I am from a world beyond, an Alien in
disguise of a painting so bold.
Inner Sanctum:
Enter if
you dare. I am bold. I am white.
I am glistening gold. I have a
shine that allures you. I have a center
that feeds you. Don’t be caught off
guard by the shadow that surrounds me.
It is the center of the full moon, that is suppose to tell you, enter
into my glorious inner sanctum.
Lunar Passage:
I
feel. I see. You pass by me. You see my strokes. You feel my tease. The way I was painted with the greatest of ease. I touched you; I felt you’re with my sunlit
glow. I touched you with my strokes of
ocean blue. A dash of pink, a dash of
glow, I am on to the next one as I watch you go.
Path to the Moon
River:
Moon River,
oh what I have done to you. I’ve captured your eye, haven’t I? You see me with that orange copper
grind. I find you seductive and
beautifully divine. This one here has an
articulate design so intricate. The
fuchsia coloring is shared by another petal.
The blooming noir blossom, and that one there is now a distraction. Green glowing fields of open-mouthed
eaters. Now, swimming alone under my
blue velvet waters. This white glow you
see, a constant give away to my chamber along the path to the moonlit river.
Orbit:
Ah, I see
you have stumbled upon my galaxy. The
moonlight sun is hidden beneath my breast.
I hear the heartbeat of a thousand drums. This orbit of mine is attacking. With every stroke of the orbital planet next
to mine, I am not sure if they are suppose to be a part of thy. I feel their touch on glistening snow. I taste the embers of far below. Through red strokes of blood stained snow. I see the envy in this. I felt it when it cam in blue and glistening
gold. This is orbital bliss.
Night’s Glory:
Pink & White
are of my design. A claw like hand, a
white serpent I have.
A petal of abstract proportions is yet to be entitled in my
Night’s Glory. I am pink here, but I connect
here into a beautiful swan. There is
something similar here to where I point; where as I would rather turn away and
look to the East. This clouded
connection of the night below, is only a link to both of our lights exterior
glow.
Dance of the
Refuses:
Stay away from me. Get away! No, wait come closer and you will
receive a captured tease. I am so light
here, and here I’m not. This fascination
you have with me is purely not. I am
telling you no through my fervent glow.
Ethereal View:
I am
it. I am the center of the orbital bliss
you seek. I have come out of an opening
in the sky, and touched you with a feeling untold. Through time and space I open up to you. Let me feel your inner glow as I unearth
mine. This delicate little flower petal
you see is just another figment of your imagination. I created you, by pulling you inward and out
of this, I gave you a kiss. The ethereal
feeling you get is outpouring from my jar.
Come taste the sweet nectar of my youth.
It’s out of this world!
New Day Rising:
Time will
bring this one aglow. Breakfast, lunch,
and dinner. You see my sun-beaming heart
pressing through the mornings dusk. You
hear my heart beating. You fall back
asleep. The noon approaches. Time to start again. This time with more light and more flow. I felt this archway creeping up on me. Handprint on my wall, the artist has painted
me with one great fall. The darkness
illuminates the inner soul. The vibrant
colors of riches unfold. Sunlight is
just on the horizon. So hold on while we
wake up together in the early dawn.
The Night Visitor:
Much more
vibrant am I then that silly book? I am here to fascinate in the night. Do not take flight. Do not hesitate. There is maybe a question of my work, but I
am just as appealing as the day you are seeking. You seem concerned about the fabric of
face. The outstretching hands and
fingers too delicate a dialect? Just
wait for me, the visitor in the night. I
am different.
Full Bloom:
You have
grown. You have withered away, but I am
still in full bloom. I cascade over a
mountain of fresh earth. The sight of my
orange painted fingers holds within them a fragile orb. Transforming me into the most sophisticated
matter of growth at your door.
Blossoms in
Twilight:
The
twilight is not in flight. The flowing
ambience of my place is to pull you into movement. Look forward to the light of day, but enjoy
the moonlit serenade I play. My voice is
full of attraction.
Moon Bloom
Descending:
My life is
full of attraction. It’s hard to tell
from down here. You start from left to
right. You finish with the
opposite. This time I have lured you in,
to see a greater pleasure within.
Under the Night
Sky:
What am I
doing over there? Telling you I have a surprise over here. This illustrated artwork of mine is
blossoming under the night sky. With
intricate matter submerged no longer, I am in my fullest with the easiest
appraisal.
Acquatica:
The
reflections of night sky are in union with my eternal swirl. I flow in and out with reptilian beauty. There is a more in depth perception of
morning glory. My eye is there, with
endless symmetry. I have this feeling of
regularity. My rosebuds blossom in the sun
on the shore by my acquatica.
Water lilies:
Dancing,
flowing, endlessly. The dance of flowing
consistency is elusive in bold pallets of bright stand beauty. It is the feeling of desolate beautiful
colors swarming together to form one intoxicating weakness.
Running Brook:
You run
away with me down a running brook. You
see my center flow. You see its cunning
beauty. There is this lily that warms my
soul. Connecting through parts of a
whole. The timing is there, so you stare
and you stare. The conception of beauty
entangled with the dangers below.
Running and running under the brook.
