WHAT'S NEW — art

LIVING THE GOOD LIFE: SIX REASONS WHY WE SHOULD USE ART TO DECORATE OUR HOMES 51

Since the beginning of humanity, people have surrounded themselves with all kinds of beautiful objects. Early shelters were found to be adorned with colorful drawings, sculptures, and other decorative artifacts.

But why do we feel the need to add art around us? What does art change within us in such a way that we feel drawn to gathering beauty and colours around us? 

Art on rock by Christine Onward. For sale here

 

Art gives wings to our inner self

Our home is the place where, more than anywhere else, we need to be ourselves. It is where we feel most at peace, where we are most comfortable. The reason we feel this way is due to the objects we choose to have on display.

By surrounding ourselves with objects of art that we love, we can enjoy the time spent at home even more. We can be ourselves, we can start dreaming, hope, and plan our future lives.

Paintings that we love will share with us their colours, shapes, and stories that have the power to make us feel unique, or happy, or energetic, or daring... it's all in the choices we make.

Original art, painted rock by Christine Onward. More from this collection here

Art makes our home more human

We are surrounded by a culture that incessantly tells us to hurry.

Art helps us take things easy, to slow down, and breathe. Take your time. Listen to your art.

Most of the things necessary to our home: the furniture, appliances, clothing, etc.  are mass produced, machine made. There seems to be an abundance of 'things' surrounding us that are soul-less, which provide no personality to our spaces. We need fulfilling interactions with the people and things we surround ourselves with. Their stories contribute to our daily experience,

Art gives our home a human soul. With every work of art we add a sense of time, personality, emotion and value to our space.

Original art, painted rock by Christine Onward. More from this collection here

Art revives emotion and facilitates self-discovery

The art we surround ourselves with can revive powerful emotions. It can evoke cheerful memories, bring comfort or inspire us in most unexpected ways.

Art can be the echoing of our deepest emotions - whether positive or negative - through which we feel connected, understood, and never alone.

The art we choose to keep with us is almost always a flawless translator of our personality. The things we value, respect, embrace, or follow will come through the art choices we make and surround ourselves with.

Original art, painted rock by Christine Onward. For sale here 

Art brings out the kindness in us

The art we choose to decorate our homes with can make a difference in someone's life.

We may choose these artworks to surround us because of all the change they inspire. They provide support to people who need it most, including the artists creating these works, and the people receiving them. Art is powerful in the many ways it can do good for you, and others.

Original art, painted rock by Christine Onward. More from this collection here

Art teaches us that everything is possible

There is an act of struggle and bravery in every piece of art.

"By doing what you love, you inspire and awaken the hearts of others" - Satsuki Shibuya

Too often we are overwhelmed by our daily work routine, boring days, lack of expectations to such a point when we begin to forget about our life long passions or hobbies.

To see that someone has never ceased to create and dedicated all their time to pursue their dreams is invigorating. The art we choose to show off with will teach us and the others that dreams and passions are always possible to achieve. 

Art is the best lesson to learn; That in life everything continues to be possible.

Original art, painted rock by Christine Onward. For sale here 

Art tells a story about us

Art doesn't come in singularity. Every artwork we choose says something about us. Perhaps the colours in the painting are representative for our passions. Perhaps the landscapes depicted remind us about long lived holidays, or childhood memories. Or maybe the painting revives hidden feelings, or memories we long thought forgotten

Art reconnects us with our true selves, our true memories and our thoughts.

With art we are never alone. We are only our true selves.

Original art, painted rock by Christine Onward. For sale here

 

More beautiful rocks and writings about creative hobbies and how they can improve you well-being HERE 

If you have questions or want to contribute with your ideas to this blog, please contact Christine Onward at: rock_street@yahoo.com.

Thank you.

PAGES OF REFLECTION – what it takes to become an ARTIST (LESSON 1) 105

Dear reader, wherever you may be, whatever language you speak, whichever stage in life you are, I hope you are an admirer of art.

This is because I plan to make the next few blog articles into a reflective journal about my experience of living and creating art. And as inconsistent as I am in general, I am pretty confident that this time I can give my stories continuity and meaningfulness not just for me, but for you too.

Today's LESSON 1

How do you grow into a reputable artist without any expertise or previous experience?

This is a question that keeps on bothering me every time I find yet another successful artist on Instagram. It looks as if every great artist of our days has some sort of previous art-related education, hours and hours of guided advice, work with a purpose, and of course, the TALENT.

For instance, check on wonderful Yvette Coppersmith:

-Archibald Prize, 2018

-studied at the Victorian College of the Arts in Melbourne, Australia.

-more than 21 years of experimenting with styles and subjects

-painting self-portraits since the age of 17

Painting by Australian artist Yvette Coppersmith, winner of the Archibald Prize 2018

 

How does MY art journey ever come close to such a glorious artist?

 

I bet you too keep on ruminating about the same thing as me: Maybe it’s not even worth it. Maybe it’s yet another waste of time…

But this morning I finished painting this:

 

"After the Dark", by Christine Onward (all rights reserved). For sale HERE 

 

Right through the open blinds a few sun rays started coming in. I watched them dancing merrily on the colours of the painting. That whole world, right there in the paper, was coming to life right in front of me… I was witnessing a miracle.

 

I had created a world that was a reflection of myself. Somewhere in this world someone like me will find themselves in this story, as much as I did. Maybe more in my painting than in other people’s paintings. Maybe I get to make them smile. And that’s the best accomplishment I can achieve.

 

My lesson for today is this:

Every story you create has you in it, your adventures, your memories,  your sadness, your heart. Someone will surely connect with it. If not today, they will surely show up tomorrow.

The more stories there are, the more people will connect with your art. Just keep on creating. Reward will come.

 

 

Loving these stories? Here is a beautiful story from my childhood : Surreal Night in Transylvania

More outstanding products from my latest surreal paintings are HERE 

 

Stories of the Outback : Living Life in Own Sacred Ways 36

Every journey to the outback I had so far was a new discovery. I am not talking about the discovery of new (extraordinary!) places only. I am talking about discovering new lessons of life, the lessons you carry with you throughout life, think of them, use them, and, at meaningful times, share them with others.

This year’s outback discovery was meeting people who chose to live their lives on their own terms; people who chose to live as if other’s rules of living did not exist but their own. Out of all other ways people chose to live, their own was sacred.

It’s a wonderful lesson to learn: regardless of the rules of life others obey to, the one you choose for yourself is sacred and is worth standing for.

Memorable travels in outback Australia: road from Bourke to Wanaaring (right before the sunset)

 

TALKING ABOUT M.

Meeting M. was a moment long sought for. We had tried to call her a few times, unsuccessfully though. A couple of times we had had driven to her farm. She was not there. The gates were locked.

But every try was worth it as we discovered when we met M. the first time.

 

AT THE GOONERY

Entrance to the Goonery farm (under clear blue skies)

 

Reaching M’s house was quite an adventure, as recent rains made access to the barracks really tricky.

A hundred metres drive from the gate and we turn a sharp left. A large muddy pond spreads in front of us right from the middle of the road. At the other end of the pond a white car is bogged into the mud all the way up to the windows.

Rare occasions of flood in the area

 

We drive carefully on the edge of the muddy waters and continue on for a few hundred metres on bare dirt road. All around us there are old vehicles, rusty engines, metal scraps, and piles of useless wires.

I’m beginning to think of snakes hiding between all this strange gathering of disregarded stuff. Apart from snakes, rats also come to my mind. And that is terrifying.

As we get closer to the house, everything becomes even more cluttered. Old tanks, water pumps from old times, rusty trucks, 50 years old or more, make access to M.’s place even more trickier. In the distance I see animal paddocks, few horses running free, and a couple of dogs resting in the shade.

It is so quiet.

 

M.’s house is hidden behind a tall fence and wild vegetation.

As far as I can see, the house walls are scratched and torn; some of the windows are covered with plastic boards and rugs. It’s sad, painfully sad to watch all these.

We call M. out in lower after some careful thought. Who is this lady of the scraps and what she might look like?

She comes out quickly with a large smile on her face. She looks tall, taller than me at least, small built, with short grey hair.

Her clothes are old and torn. Grey patches cover the holes in her over sized jeans. The collar of a once yellow shirt is revealed and I can’t decide if it’s actually dirty or grey from too much use:

She had surgery. Then went to Dubbo to help a friend who was struggling with cancer.

I’m watching her talk quickly with large gestures and continuous smiles. Her happy demeanour is contagious and I begin to love her, despite previous concerns. I feel no pity for her, no sadness for this life she chose. I only love her because she is nothing but light and full-on positive energy. And she is humble and eager to help.

She is the master of what she chose to be.

 

THE PAINTING OF "QUEEN MAGG"

 

The memory of M. remained fresh in my mind for many weeks. I didn’t know what to do with what I had seen at the Goonery. I didn’t know if it was sadness, or bravery, or illness what I had seen. All these were with me, tearing me apart, until I decided to paint M., to give her a new life, a life on my own terms.

I cut through the bare scene of red empty sands and placed inside a merry garden of flowers, as M. deserves. Between such flowers I gave life to a new M., to “Queen Magg”.

I threw the torn grey clothes away and gave her a magical dress painted in joyful patterns and happy colours. As for the eyes, the tired empty eyes I met at the Goonery, I wanted to give them life too. I wanted them to shine, to share hope, and share love. I wanted her to be remembered as she deserves: as a queen.  

 

"Queen Magg", painting by Christine Onward. Description and other details are Here

 

Disclaimer: none of the photos used in this article belong to the Goonery (except for the entrance at the farm). The name of the described character was hidden to protect her privacy. Apart from that, the story is real and presented through my own lenses. If you feel you need to know more, please send an email on rock_street@yahoo.com.

Short video about the painting is uploaded on: https://www.instagram.com/christine.onward/?hl=en

MY ART BEGINNINGS: Corrina Marie Canning talking about challenges of life and how she turned them into meaningful journeys 46

Dear all,

Today's article is dedicated to those who, like me, feel that life has given them a SECOND CHANCE. I found Corrina's story one early morning on Instagram. Until then I had it in my heart that I was the only one (or one of the very few) who were living A LIFE FOR RENT, and was trying to make the most of it in their own terms. To me, Corrina's words were beyond inspiring, they were revealing! 

And if I am like her -on a journey- and I am not alone anymore, I am sure there will be more like us out there, just waiting for this awakening experience to happen to them too.

With these, I will let you absorb the story. I do expect you to treat it with all due respect, gratitude, and the compassion it deserves.

The magic of mandalas, rock collection by Corrina Marie Canning | Facebook | Instagram |

 

Hi everyone,

For all those who decided to take the time to read my story, let me introduce myself.

I am Corrina Marie Canning, wild woman, Artrepreneur and Nature Enthusiast. Mother to Mitchell aged 25, grandmother to Matteo aged 3, and daughter to Dora, ageless.

I am also an artist, a tarot reader, a seeker of all things love, light, and colour. I LOVE to travel, whether it be to other countries, beaches, forests, and outside of my own mind. I am positively obsessed with sacred geometric patterns, energy, and colour.

Wonderful painting by artist Corrina Marie Canning | Facebook | Instagram |

I'll tell you something personal about my history, to give you all some insight into how I came to paint mandalas.

7 years ago I lost a baby about halfway through my pregnancy. We were on a family vacation in Cuba when it happened, hours away from the closest hospital. Thank goodness my mom was with me; I hemorrhaged badly and had an out-of-body experience on the way to the hospital.

I don’t know for how long. It seemed like lifetimes and seconds. The place I went was not a tunnel or a white light. It was like Aurora Borealis, rich in colour which I still can’t find a name for. The colours had sound, frequency, and they spoke to me and within me. I understood what felt like everything.

When I woke up in a hospital bed the next day, my body bruised and broken, but alive, I had an entirely new lease on life. And although I had always been an artist, that experience shifted the way I perceived, felt, heard and expressed it!

Within the next year I went to Bali, Indonesia with the intention to heal my body and emotions of the trauma. I had the privilege of a healing with a woman named Jero, who also saw what I had seen on the other side. She told me the colour consciousness had a message for me: that if I wanted to grow my life, I had to learn to LET GO.

She had a vision of me Painting Mandalas, holding a paintbrush. But I didn't know how to paint yet! Returning from that life changing trip I purchased my first paints, canvases and brushes. I trusted my intuition and allowed it to guide my hand.

Mandala rock painting by Corrina Marie Canning | Facebook | Instagram |

 

A few months into this  (oh such a fun journey!!), the first Mandala "channelled" through. 

Whenever I tried to draw or paint one of my accords, nothing happened. It was disastrous. So I learned to surrender into a trance state, and this is where the magic flowed through.

Since then, I have been painting Mandalas on every kind of surface smooth enough to do it on.

Handpainted wearable art by Corrina Marie Canning | Facebook | Instagram |

 

I always think-breathe-flow Sacred Geometry everywhere and in everything. I see the whole world in a vast colour spectrum that endlessly fascinates and inspires me.

This photo was taken shortly after the Bali experience, as my body, emotions, and spirit were healing from the loss. I've learned that even the darkest of times bring the greatest of Treasures. What I am birthing into this world is whatever my guides, or spirit, or colour consciousness leads me to. I am an instrument. And every day I am so grateful for this gift to be able to express the world the way I see it.

I thank you all for reading my story, for following my art, and for sharing your comments with me,.

It means more than you could all know 💖.

With gratitude, Corrina xoxo

Stunning work of art by Corrina Marie Canning | Facebook | Instagram |

 

WEDNESDAY SNAPSHOT - Annalisa Cacciatore - Unique wearable art with a Mediterranean touch 8

HAKUNA MATATA from Italy

This Wednesday I'm taking you on a Mediterranean ride to beautiful Annalisa Cacciatore in Florence, Italy. Annalisa is a wonderfully talented person, mastering the art of rock painting like rarely seen in our days. She is known worldwide for the exquisite quality of her painted rocks in the form of wearable art. More of Annalisa's creations for you to admire and enjoy are on Hakuna Matata Italy on Facebook and @ hakuna_matata_italy on Instagram

I hope you enjoy all Annalisa's works of art inspiring:

HARMONY

ELEGANCE

MEDITERRANEAN VIBES

STRENGTH

and JOY

 

A world of harmony and colours by Annalisa Cacciatore | Facebook | Instagram

You can discover and enjoy more art on rocks on our Facebook group, RockStreet Collective.

More painted rocks for sale are HERE

Surreal Night in Transylvania - how the painting was born 53

If you ever travel to Romania, you need to know that although many places across the country are beyond beautiful, there is one part that will never fail to charm you forever. And that is Transylvania.

 

Original painting by artist Christine Onward, products for sale Here

I spent time with this painting thinking about Transylvania: the dark blue skies of the summer nights with the orange moon above, larger than all mountains, fantastically reflecting on the forest trees. And the stars, looking straight at you, shining straight into your eyes, and the crickets endlessly singing songs of love for their dear ones…

 

If done with passion and from the heart, painting has the power to take you to some of the most amazing and perhaps long forgotten memories from the past.

Painting this design took me to cousin Ghita and the night when we were waiting for the wild boars.

NIGHTS IN FASCA – Transylvanian adventures with cousin Ghita

 

I am 11 or 12 years old. Cousin Ghita, my best mate and most honest accomplice, 11 years old too. Days are long in summer, so many soccer games to play, so many trees to climb, geese to fly to the river, cows to run to the forest…

Wild boars have been pestering everyone across the village. We have to guard the maize from them all night until the sunrise. Then we are allowed to rest.

I jump with joy, looking forward to spending the whole night under the starry skies, covered in that large sheep skin, laying in the hay smelling of summer flowers…  

But uncle decides I’m not allowed to go. What has a city girl, all silly and clumsy as me, got to do with wild boars? I must stay in my room. And I’m not allowed to protest in any way. Because it's terribly rude to not obey your relatives in Transylvania. Uncle is merciless these days.

Late in the night I try to sleep but the thought of the wild boars sneaking through the trees straight into the corn field is not easy to ignore. I hear voices at the window, like whispers calling my name. I'm not scared. It's just whispers, calling my name from outside.

I jump out the window, without no shoes, just bare feet. Cousin Ghita is waiting for me with neighbour Cornel both holding the big sheep skin coat so that I don’t get cold.

We have to march quickly down the hill, to check Cornel’s maize.

I walk in Cornel’s shoes. He doesn’t need them. He hated them anyway. To me the shoes are too large and too noisy. But I mustn't say anything, or I scare the night.

Cornel carries a little light pointing at dark animal pathways, secret holes in the trees, plants leaving chaotic shadows under our steps…

Cornel likes talking about dead men. How they also took this way to go to the valley. You can never hear their steps in the grass, because they are dead. But you can feel them cold, like a breeze, sticking to the back of your neck until you get stiff and can’t move anymore.

I walk slowly behind Cornel and in front of cousin Ghita. If there were to be dead men passing by, then there will definitely not be my neck for them to stick to, because I am wisely walking in the middle of the line, not behind, like cousin Ghita.

There are no wild boars roaming through Cornelu’s maize. It’s silence. Only deep in the forest there is a chilling whisper of leaves and sometimes night birds shouting sadly at long forgotten ghosts…

We return to the little hut that uncle built for the boys at the corn field. I hide inside, hoping that cold breeze bodies don’t get stuck to the back of my neck. The ship skin coat smells revolting, but it’s warm and soft. I can close my eyes and listen to cousin Ghita and neighbour Cornel chatting away outside…

Apparently if the devil follows you in the dark, it will definitely want to call you by your name. But you should know it’s the devil. Don't ever turn your head to see who called you in the dark. Keep walking or you’ll lose your mind and voice forever...

As my eyes are slowly going down to sleep, I hear whispers of my name inside the tent. A terrifying low voice whispers my name, calling me to follow it in the dark!

I jump outside, hardly being able to breathe from fear, and start screaming: “It’s here! It’s here!” I hit the empty metal pot, making terrible noise while the boys are laughing their heads off.

The next minute, up on the mountain and all around the village hills I see fires lighting up. It was my shouting that woke them up. Everyone is banging onto metal pots to scare the wild boars. A concert of bangs, and shouts, and howling echoing from all corners of the village! It felt like it lasted forever.

At sunrise uncle finds the three of us in deep sleep around the sheep skin coat, “like newborn lambs”.

“What a happy gang, he says. The whole village is in frenzy. There's been talk that boars have been going through everyone’s corn fields. All night long the boars moved along the line of the mountains... And here you are, sleeping like angels. Bet you have no idea what happened last night”

Cousin Ghita looks in the distance, like a wise old man and sighs deeply.. in the most dramatic voice he says: “Bet nobody does”. I can hardly keep myself from laughing. Cornel keeps busy trying to recover his shoes from my feet.

Here is Fasca,the village of the wild boars, shining fantastically in strange shapes and colours under the moon light. I’d tell you more stories if you want. But we’ll have to ask cousin Ghita for permission first.  Maybe he would like to tell you more Transylvanian stories, much better than mine.

 Art by Christine Onward. More products for sale here