Rhythm of my ♥

This is bragging, I know.... 

this is one of my few non-art related posts. 

This one is just to say that I am pretty proud of my little man. 

Since our big move at the end of last year, he has managed to conquer his shyness and entered his second talent-quest, now at Intermediate. 

He made it to the final again and this show was a 2+ hours evening show with a packed hall. Eeeek ! Maybe I was more nervous for him than he was in the end ? And eventhough he did not come first, I am immensely proud of him. And because we share these things with overseas family, we uploaded his performance, so now you can see him too, enjoy :)

 

♫ Tralalalala ♫

I have a quick little happy and musical post here. 

Firstly I am happy because my son made it to the finals in the school's talentquest {he plays guitar *} so this makes me a very proud Mummie. Secondly I am doing 'Suns and Moons' with the art classes this week, so I see happy sunny faces every day  *} 

 

 And then I finished another little art doll this time with legs (ha !) and the legs I made out of fabric with musical print , so I called her 'Shiri' which means 'song', I can just visualize her sitting on a piano with her legs dangling down *}

 

Rhythm of my Art - Volume II

More music inspired paintings I did - a "Blues-y" set

The Rhythm of my Art - Sax I

The Rhythm of my Art - Strings II

The Rhythm of my Art - JazzSinger II

music to my ears

I am just chilling out and enjoying some music this afternoon

and thinking to myself that some of the songs I listen to...
they feed me another challenge...

...this song .....cries paint-me ....

'After all the jacks are in their boxes 

And the clowns have all gone to bed 

You can hear happiness staggering on down the street. 

Footsteps dressed in red 

And the wind whispers Mary 

A broom is drearily sweeping 

up the broken pieces of yesterdays life 

Somewhere a Queen is weeping 

Somewhere a King has no wife 

And the wind cries Mary 

The traffic lights, they turn uh blue tomorrow 

And shine their emptiness down on my bed 

The tiny island sags down stream 

cause the life that lived is, 

is dead 

And the wind screams Mary 

Uh-will the wind ever remember 

The names it has blow in the past? 

'n with this crutch, its old age, and its wisdom 

It whispers no, this will be the last 

And the wind cries Mary'