Elephant Art

a painting of a man holding a stack of books
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
A koi pond seen from above, orange and white koi fish swimming among lily pads, clear water with subtle ripples, fallen cherry blossom petals floating on the surface, dappled sunlight
no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.
In days to come I stood amazed, walking through that forest, at the blazing symphony of color it brought forth, seemingly just for me. I grew to love my friend’s words in a new way, through the astounding beauty of the spectacle he knew was coming when he said them. I was young then, and didn’t know I had many autumns ahead of me.
Love letter confession scene
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Afternoon rain forces us into the coolness of the little house, surrounded by rice paddies, where Grandmother assembles strings of Christmas lights; bound for somewhere. Young mother watches three children grow, and wonders: What will their lives be? Can’t dream of what she’s never seen; can’t see what she can’t dream.
First confession under cherry blossoms
Southeast Asia. Modern day. Back out on the open plain, our bus hurtles toward the city. Smokestacks and temples rise up from the earth; two visions competing for the sky. The woman on my right holds a chicken in her lap; rural wealth for a city friend? On my left a Buddhist priest sits in quiet repose and presides over the world.
Southeast Asia. Modern day. This morning the sound of traffic in the street, scooters and tuk-tuks, taxis and trucks, was so loud I couldn’t hear my dream. So I turned it off and went dowstairs. Taking in diesel fumes ‘til it hurt to breathe, I found a hawker-stall and ate. It’s 100 degrees already; soon the rain will come.
Trees are always trying to reach the sky; arms stretched out toward heaven ‘til their leaves turn brown and die. Then will come the winter, when they stand the icy wind. waiting for the sun to shine and spring to come again. The drama’s reinacted every year: Leaves come down like clouds of doubt and fear. While on the ground, the winter passes by, every tree keeps reaching to the sky.
Trees are always trying to reach the sky; arms stretched out toward heaven ‘til their leaves turn brown and die. Then will come the winter, when they stand the icy wind. waiting for the sun to shine and spring to come again. The drama’s reinacted every year: Leaves come down like clouds of doubt and fear. While on the ground, the winter passes by, every tree keeps reaching to the sky.
Life is all around for us to hold. Spring will come again when we forget the winter cold. Soon will be the summer, when the evenings linger long with jokes and quips and camping trips, a kindred summer song. The time won’t last forever, we can see; still, we should learn the lesson of the tree. In winter snow or summer’s long good-bye, trees keep reaching upward to the sky.
Personal POV scene. Me and Jesus in the desert on a cool morning at daybreak walking toward a bright star. Jesus is wearing old clothes and carrying a satchel. I’m wearing old clothes and sandals just like Him. The air is cool and crisp. The sky is bright blue on the horizon with deep purple fading into black at the upper atmosphere. The air is crisp and clear. It’s like the desert in California looking east toward Arizona. There are desert hills on the north and south sides and mountains in the distance.
Ronin facing sunset duel
I lift up my eyes toward the sky; know my heart and home are there, where the ones before me lie. One day, I’ll be gathered up and carried to that place where I shall know as I am known, and see my Maker’s face. It’s appointed unto us just once to be: We linger here, but soon we’ll be set free. No more reaching upward ‘til we die, Our roots stay here. We stretch beyond the sky.
Athlete with discus in contrapposto pose
Pasta with fresh herbs and parmesan
This day, though, I hiked another autumn wood. Eastern Europe ancient; overgrown. So thick the view was dark at just a few feet off the path. All red and yellow; orange and brown, a million trees, each one in blazing preparation for long, frozen winter. I cannot but recall my friend’s words, lasting long, though he did not, and the instant truth that follows. Looking upward at the fiery canopy, matched against the bright cerulean sky beyond, I embrace autumn! Winter surely comes one day, but spring beyond. I have a winter to prepare for, but it is not yet.
The monster (Mt. San Gorgonio) rises in the North, all hoary-frost above behemoth shoulders. Snake-like clouds adorning her, I crane my neck, Gaze fixed past the big white house toward uplifted boulders. And at the South, like his namesake martyr, Hyacinth (Mt. San Jacinto) has lost his head in cloud. Burned bones against a blue backdrop he wears that legacy proud. Between the two, another sunrise gleams and beams of brilliant, white-hot day flash forth: Accentuate Sonora’s west extremes, and last night’s moon forgot to go away.
portrait of a person with expressive eyes
Salon Cubism Art Style Style Transfer Example
serene landscape with mountains and water
Pierced luminaire with botanical patterns
a tree in nature
animal standing in natural pose
house with front view
Salon Cubism Art Style Style Transfer Example
An interior scene. An old Bible with dog-eared pages, a black leather cover, and words of Christ in red sits open on a table. The camera sees the Bible at a 45 degree angle. The table and chair are old and worn, sitting on a worn carpet on a wood plank floor. There are some pens and highlighters, along with a red ribbon bookmark, a half-empty drink and some paper clips. The room is in low-light, and a small window is in the background. Someone has been studying and just stepped away for a moment. Some lines in the Bible are highlighted yellow.
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.”
People in garden
animal standing in natural pose
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man holding a rope
bicyle resting against a wall
urban street with city activity
Porcelain Ceramic Art Style Style Transfer Example