Description Like the power of the moon shaping our shoreThe world she creates is irresistably pure.She stands like a stone never bending nor swaying,Honest and loyal... never betraying.Hazel, Oak, Ash, Hawthorn and Willow,The trees are her books, the meadow her pillow.Burlesque and feathers, stillettos and wiggle,Corsets and tassels, cleavage and jiggle.Inspired by wisdom from Earth's ancient space.We see it all in her magical face. Portrait of a Pagan Landscape is a captivating depiction of a Druidess using the spirituality of the Earth to portray her wisdom, power, honour and sensuality....The FUTHORC says 'Jackdaw' ... if you want to know why ...just ask... merchandise using this design is available from www.cafepress.com/richardbrain ...get updates about RichardBrain's work, browse merchandise and become a fan at http://www.new.facebook.com/pages/Brains-Bazaar/17725809617
RICHARD BRAIN, OXFORD Member Since May 2008 Artist Statement This is the art of a vain, blue eyed, atheistic, hedonistic, communist, therefore, as you can imagine, my art is my only reademing feature.
So if you want to see a fiery orange sunrise piercing the branches of a mighty oak and dappling the daisy dotted meadow with splashes of gold...wake up early and look outside! Because you wont see it on this page.There will be no paintings of blood- red, dew- moistened acrylic Orchids here, nor adjective-oozing odes to woodland waterfalls... these things are too beautiful to copy.
I may make a clumsy attempt to paint how the Oak tree makes me feel, but not the Oak tree itself, why would I? When it's perfect already.
NO...here you will find Emotional Art.
All the things that compel me to pick up pen or pencil and create........
Frivolous Things.. because the devil in me can find no better reason for anything than that it gives me pleasure.
Funny Things.. That coax a wry smile from my lips or surprise me with a spontaneous, barking belly laugh.
Angry Things.. That make me seethe with fury or cry with despair.
Inspirational Things.. That twist my arm behind my back and frog march me reluctantly towards love.
All the things that make me wonder why this chameleon-like sexual predator didn't change as the world around him did.
So I sit in front of the PC idly drawing rectangles with my cursor and with my mind firmly entrenched in the "Summer of Love" I vaguely recall;
When intellect meant radicalism...
When heroes climbed mountains instead of implanting them...
When Big brother was a tool of oppression not suppression..
When we worshipped integrity not celebrity..
And when people dreamed of a better world not a better house...
Yes... I sit in front of my PC (Police Constable???) and idly draw rectangles with my cursor( A gypsy you didn't buy heather from???) and decide perhaps the world isn't really any worse than it was... but maybe the people in it are.