T Art

The San Gorgonio Pass, Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost and granite. Snake-like clouds adorning her peak, I gaze past the big white house toward her uplifted boulders. And at the South, Mt. San Jacinto has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue sky backdrop. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: They accentuate the Sonora desert’s west extreme, and last night’s moon, high up on the left, forgot to go away.
Out where the river runs wild and free and only the brave dare row; where the rapids are deep, and the challenge is fresh and it takes them where it means to go. With breakneck speed, grinning into the wind, standing straight on the bow of their craft, just a glimpse now and then of those captains you’ll catch flying by, near capsizing your raft. They’ve no time for advice to those standing on shore or to aid the ones just wading out, for their task is to pilot this current, they think, and it’s all they can do to stay out of the drink, and their lives could be gone in the space of a wink should they lose but a moment to doubt. Standing tall, they never must doubt!
I sat, long ago, on an Asian hill with a Shakya Mundi friend, and watched the autumn leaves fall down from high above, giants in the forest casting off their wakefulness, falling progressively into winter’s long, white sleep. “The important thing to know about trees” he said, “is that they are most beautiful in autumn; just before the winter snow. They live and grow through the entire year just for these brief moments of stunning beauty. We are like that.” He said, “but we have only one autumn, and a very long winter.”
a man and a woman are posing for a picture
a painting of a man holding a sword
Un agujero, y que esté saliendo una araña gigante
a painting of a man kneeling in a tunnel
a painting of a man kneeling down next to a woman
First century Palestine on the road toward Jericho. In a treacherous pass, a man lies on the roadside, beaten half to death. A passerby with a donkey is trying to help. The story of the good samaritan.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Nearer to the city now, the bus thumps and bumps to a slower pace. Grinding gears mark spaces between dirty children, playing obliviously in the road. Neither village nor metropolis, outskirts have no identity: Just a blurry line of encroachment; a temporary half-life on the way to something more. Dust springs up from the tires of trucks headed both ways on the road. A little girl stands crying in a mud puddle; her brothers laughing from the sides. She has to learn rejection to participate in this brutal, belonging dance. A little life, and a little death for a product truly worthy of its name: a good woman is hard to find.
A young couple with two children stand in front of a wall-sized world map, facing the map. The young father is pointing to somewhere in Africa. The young mother is wearing a backpack and carrying one of the children on her hip.
First century Jerusalem at the "gate beautiful" to the temple grounds. Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.
a statue of a man holding a sword
a bronze statue of a man holding a sword
a painting of a man sitting on a couch
a man standing in front of a brick wall
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with chains around his waist
a painting of saint marquin and saint chabel
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
a painting of a man with his hands in the air
a painting of three men sitting on a couch
a painting of a man sitting at a table with a tablet
a painting of two people holding hands over a book
a painting of a man with a horned head holding a spear
a man in a straw hat is painting on a piece of paper
a painting of two hands holding a book
a painting of a group of hands holding a book
a painting of a man with a helmet holding a sword
First century Palestine. An evening scene on a rooftop in Bethlehem. The summer air is warm and the evening light is soft. Jesus, wearing ordinary clothing like most men wear, sits at a table across from a Pharisee named Nicodemus who has come to speak to the Master privately. One or two servers stand nearby. There is a clay pitcher and 2 drinking cups on the table. The town is visible in the background.
a bronze statue of a man in a frame
a statue of a man holding a bird
a painting of a man sitting on a couch
a painting of a man and a woman
a bronze statue of a man holding a sword
a painting of a man holding a sword
a painting of a man running through a group of people
a painting of a man holding a statue
a painting of a zombie holding a knife
a man standing next to a woman near a table
a statue of a man holding a sword
a statue of a man holding a ball