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| Suzanne's tree |
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| the flood |
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| the old horse barn |
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| trees, ice, water |
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| bare trees |
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| the pines |
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| Suzanne's Tree |
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| twisting branches, my old friend... |
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| Suzanne's tree |
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| tangled tree |
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| the corn field |
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| the fog and flood |
This blog is my portfolio of artwork, a journal about my process of making art...and the things that I have no words for...
*Copyright notice* All photos, writing, and artwork are mine (© Laura J. Wellner), unless otherwise noted, please be a peach, if you'd like to use my work for a project or you just love it and must have it, message me and we'll work out the details...it's simple...JUST ASK, please.
![]() |
| Suzanne's tree |
![]() |
| the flood |
![]() |
| the old horse barn |
![]() |
| trees, ice, water |
![]() |
| bare trees |
![]() |
| the pines |
![]() |
| Suzanne's Tree |
![]() |
| twisting branches, my old friend... |
![]() |
| Suzanne's tree |
![]() |
| tangled tree |
![]() |
| the corn field |
![]() |
| the fog and flood |
![]() |
| Elizabeth 2/23/2014 |
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| I dedicated this one for my one dog named Max...what can I say? I miss him... |
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|
I
am vexed. It is all commonplace at first glance—
as
it should be—
The
sky is blue—
or
gray, depending on the weather—
there
is snow
now—grass
will come later— |
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|
I
could wake up screaming some times,
but
I don’t.
Screaming
solves nothing.
What
will be—
will
be. Indeed.
|
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|
Where
do I dare to look?
No
blood.
There
or there. No—wait—
wait
for it—maybe?
Ah,
no, I’m wrong.
It’s
a photograph of trauma—
the
latest life drama
right
there on the front page—
right
there on the television
and there on the latest
gadget screen. |
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|
Where
to look first?
Don’t
blink.
|
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|
Don’t
look away.
Dang,
it’s another train wreck of yet
another
individual
blowing
their wad—
their
existence—
constituted
misery—
making
a mess for others to clean up. |
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|
Amend—make
amends—
amendments—
Adjust
yourself—
ourselves—
in
keeping with the situation.
Running
around putting out fires,
it’s
all gone before you know it—
before
you knew you had it. |
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|
Don’t
blink
or
you’ll miss it.
Just
a moment—
a
moment of being.
Be.
|
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|
I
wonder ‘how come’.
What
the fuck, right?
Seriously.
Some
days I feel like I’m running a
marathon
while standing still. |
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|
Some
are sure it’s just a phase we’re in—
adjusting.
The
world is appalling to me—
these
days
I
am vexed
by
it all. Tired. Dead dog tired
of
the latest ‘it’ thing.
|
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| I thought it would be interesting to add the definition of Vex, Vexed, and Vexation... |