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Montag, 16. April 2012

here is the first copy ! the DIY ArtBookProject 2012

i proudly present you: the new DIY ArtBookProject 2012 (more here

http://natascha-blankpage.blogspot.de/2012/04/diy.html ) :

*

The DIY ArtBookProject 2012

this booklet is the second edition of the

NATASCHA ARTWORX DIY ART BOOK PROJECT

it was created, self-printed and self-published 2012

in Hamburg, Germany by Natascha Artworx

art, layout, design and print by Natascha Artworx

(http://natascha-artworx.webs.com)

poems by Chrystal Sunflower

(http://sunflowerdagger.tumblr.com)

*this book is a 100% Do It Yourself production

*15 full colored pages

*all poems in this book are copyright Chrystal Sunflower

**you can have a look inside of the book at my facebook page .

***every book will be signed and numbered with a personal note from me

(if you want it blank,just say it)

you can have a look inside of my book at my facebook page

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150717333477952.457013.289495967951&type=3

and you can purchase it here now:

http://natascha-artworx.webs.com/apps/webstore/products/show/3028916

♥ you all,

natascha

Dienstag, 14. Juni 2011

the destiny manifesto and life

hi friends,

long time no blog...

i am going to be featured in a book...this book will be out

soon, i hope. it´s a wonderful collection of poems written by facebook friend and sp fan (yes that´s important,because we wouldn´t have that deep conversations without the music connection) Robert DelRio.

in this book you´ll see almost all my artworks (at least all i thought i can show public).

i reedited all of them for the book. so you´ll get 50 poems and my art on every page. as much as i know,and that´s not too much, there´ll be one item that´s not mine

the books name is THE MANIFESTO OF DESTINY and i will definitely keep you updated and provide you with links when it´s for sale online.

so...life...art is hard...hahaha. it´s getting better...or at least i´m pretending that it gets better...

i wanna create big paintings but i have no money to buy big canvas, so i have to do this project in my head until i am able to go to the art store. blablabla

i made a shirt design for a band but got no reply if they like it yet...cross your fingers...it would be so cool :)

my twitter is recovering slowly...i have 119 followers now...damn you twitter for suspending my @nataschaartworx account (read post about that).

i also reanimated my zazzle shop and added some new t-shirts and posters...here is the link:http://www.zazzle.de/natascha_artworx

some stuff i made in the last 3 month:

i taped my camera to my easel and recorded myself doing a sketch on canvas.

now you see 30 minutes stuffed into 3,5 minutes…speed painting :)

the music is by the wonderful band COSIO , they broke up but i love theyr album THE CACOPHONIST is one of my favorites.

i used the song “pearls to swine” with permission of the band.

Lyrics:

PEARLS TO SWINE

your neck line is like pearls to swine

in the company of this crowd

without a word you summon me near

by the contours of your back

if your body be braille

i´ll read a novel

and never miss my sight

your love is like milk and honey

unto the wandering israelite

forgive the dirt under findernails

as i kiss the hem of your garment

pay no mind to the lack of refine

no debutante´s love could fair

my lust offends even harlequins

with downward eyes

but your love it stares confidently

into my beguilded face

and the weeping willows echo my cries

the moth he knows my plight

your love is like monarchs mating

and falling to earth in mid-flight

and now i´ll spend some time with my morning coffee...

♥ & peace to all of you

natascha

Donnerstag, 30. Juli 2009

The DIY ARt Book Project #1

Abonnieren Posts (Atom)

the celebration of the lizard king

Lions in the street and roaming

Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming

A beast caged in the heart of a city

The body of his mother

Rotting in the summer ground.

He fled the town.

He went down South

And crossed the border

Left the chaos & disorder

Back there

Over his shoulder.

One morning he awoke in a green hotel

With a strange creature groaning beside him.

Sweat oozed from its shiny skin.

Is everybody in?

The ceremony is about to begin.

Wake up!

You can't remember where it was.

Had this dream stopped?

The snake was pale gold glazed & shrunken.

We were afraid to touch it.

The sheets were hot dead prisons.

And she was beside me, old,

She's, no; young.

Her dark red hair.

The white soft skin.

Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom,

Look!

She's coming in here.

I can't live through each slow century

Of her moving.

I let my cheek slide down

The cool smooth tile

Feel the good cold stinging blood.

The smooth hissing snakes

Of rain...

Once I had a little game

I liked to crawl back in my brain

I think you know the game I mean

I mean the game called "Go Insane"

Now you should try this little game

Just close your eyes forget your name

Forget the world, forget the people

And we'll erect a different steeple.

This little game is fun to do.

Just close your eyes, no way to lose

And I'm right here, I'm going too

Release control, we're breaking through

Way back deep into the brain

Way back past the realm of pain

Back where there's never any rain

And the rain falls gently on the town

And over the heads of all of us

And in the labyrinth of streams beneath

Quiet unearthly presence of

Nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around

Reptiles abounding

Fossils, caves, cool air heights

Each house repeats a mold

Windows rolled

A beast car locked in against morning

All now sleeping

Rugs silent, mirrors vacant

Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples

Wound in sheets

And daughters, smug with semen

Eyes in their nipples

Wait! There's been a slaughter here

Don't stop to speak or look around

Your gloves and fan are on the ground

We're getting out of town

We're going on the run

And you're the one I want to come!

Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun

Nothing left to do but run, run, run

Let's run, let's run

House upon the hill, moon is lying still

Shadows of the trees witnessing the wild breeze

Come on, baby, run with me

Let's run

Run with me, run with me, run with me

Let's run

The mansion is warm at the top of the hill

Rich are the rooms and the comforts there

Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs

And you won't know a thing till you get inside

Dead president's corpse in the driver's car

The engine runs on glue and tar

Come on along, not going very far

To the east to meet the Czar

Run with me, run with me, run with me

Let's run

Some outlaws live by the side of a lake

The minister's daughter's in love with the snake

Who lives in a well by the side of the road

Wake up, girl! We're almost home

Sun, sun, sun

Burn, burn, burn

Moon, moon, moon

I will get you soon...soon...soon

I am the Lizard King

I can do anything

We came down the rivers and highways

We came down from forests and falls

We came down from Carson and Springfield

We came down from Phoenix enthralled

And I can tell you the names of the kingdoms

I can tell you the things that you know

Listening for a fistful of silence

Climbing valleys into the shade

For seven years I dwelt in the loose palace of exile

Playing strange games with the girls of the island

Now I have come again to the land of the fair

And the strong and the wise

Brothers and sisters of the pale forest

Children of night

Who among you will run with the hunt?

Now night arrives with her purple legion

Retire now to your tents and to your dreams

Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth

I want to be ready.

jim morrison (1943-1971)

the brewing of soma

the fagots blazed, the caldron’s smoke
up through the green wood curled;
“bring honey from the hollow oak,
brink milky sap,” the brewers spoke,
in the childhood of the world.

and brewed they well or brewed they ill,
the priests thrust in their rods,
first tasted, and then drank their fill,
and shouted, with one voice and will,
“behold, the drink of gods!”

they drank, and lo! in heart and brain
a new, glad life began;
the gray of hair grew young again,
the sick man laughed away his pain,
the cripple leaped and ran.

"drink, mortals, what the gods have sent,
forget your long annoy."
so sang the priests. from tent to tent
the soma’s sacred madness went,
a storm of drunken joy.

then knew each rapt inebriate
a winged and glorious birth,
soared upward, with strange joy elate,
beat, with dazed head, varuna’s gate,
and sobered, sank to earth.

the land with soma’s praises rang;
on gihon’s banks of shade
its hymns the dusky maidens sang;
in joy of life or mortal pang
all men to soma prayed.

the morning twilight of the race
sends down these matin psalms;
and still with wondering eyes we trace
the simple prayers to soma’s grace,
that vedic verse embalms.

as in that child-world’s early year,
each after age has striven
by music, incense, vigils drear,
and trance, to bring the skies more near,
or lift men up to heaven!

some fever of the blood and brain,
some self-exalting spell,
the scourger’s keen delight of pain,
the dervish dance, the orphic strain,
the wild-haired bacchant’s yell,—

the desert’s hair-grown hermit sunk
the saner brute below;
the naked santon, hashish-drunk,
the cloister madness of the monk,
the fakir’s torture show!

and yet the past comes round again,
and new doth old fulfil;
in sensual transports wild as vain
we brew in many a christian fane
the heathen soma still!

dear lord and father of mankind,
forgive our foolish ways!
reclothe us in our rightful mind,
in purer lives thy service find,
in deeper reverence, praise.

in simple trust like theirs who heard
beside the syrian sea
the gracious calling of the lord,
let us, like them, without a word
rise up and follow thee.

o sabbath rest by galilee!
o calm of hills above,
where jesus knelt to share with thee
the silence of eternity
interpreted by love!

with that deep hush subduing all
our words and works that drown
the tender whisper of thy call,
as noiseless let thy blessing fall
as fell thy manna down.

drop thy still dews of quietness,
till all our strivings cease;
take from our souls the strain and stress,
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of thy peace.

breathe through the heats of our desire
thy coolness and thy balm;
let sense be numb, let flesh retire;
speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
o still, small voice of calm!

john greeleaf whittier (1807-1892)