Praeterita

Artist Mary Ellen Croteau is showing these columns made from recycled plastic cartons and lids in the window of the Columbia College bookstore on Michigan Avenue. They are a playful homage to Brancusi's "Endless Columns", with a serious environmental message for our times: Image copyright Inhabitat.com and Mary Ellen Croteau Mary Ellen also runs a wonderful experimental art gallery in a window space in west Chicago, called Art on Armitage . I will be exhibiting a mixed media piece there during August 2012.

Medium: acrylic paint on printmaking paper. Medium: acrylic paint and airbrush pigment on printmaking paper.

After a Christmas hiatus, here is number 94 in this series of 100 short talks on art and artists. Yes, Franz Kafka was an artist, occasionally.   Subscribe to Praeterita in a reader

Drypoint on aluminium, 7" x 5" "It was hard to breathe, pressed so tightly together against the fleshy walls, our two tiny forms bathed inside and outside by the amniotic fluid, deafened by the hammering thud of a heartbeat, tantalised by the distant sound of music and voices." Text inspired by writer Patricia Ann McNair's daily journal prompts. Prompt # 16: It was hard to breathe .   Subscribe to Praeterita in a reader

Just over three years ago, I visited St. Ives in southwest England when Patty was teaching over there. One of the wonderful treasures there is the studio home of renowned sculptor Barbara Hepworth. She died in the 1980s (I think) in a studio fire, which is rather grotesque. The house has no trace of that tragedy, however. Instead, you can see her tools and her workshop, the beautiful Cornish house, and wander the lush gardens, built on a steep slope, and littered with her distinctive sculptures. Here is a picture I took in the gardens, with a very typical middle-aged English couple (and a cat) wandering around: And here is a short film from the marvellous Tate Channel , shot at the house, and containing some recently discovered footage of the Dame in her studio:   Subscribe to Praeterita in a reader

Neo-color pastels The boys liked to stand with their faces turned towards the sky, near the old church, down in the dene, as the hawk sprang from its nest, sailed in a wide arc towards the smaller birds, and brought its prey to earth in a splash of blood. (Text derived from writer Patricia Ann McNair's writing prompt series . Prompt #6: "The boys liked..." )   Subscribe to Praeterita in a reader

Derived from writer Patricia Ann McNair's daily journal prompt: Prompt #4, January 11, 2012: We were never sure what happened . "We were never sure what happened. They say the army jeep slid on some ice and went out of control. They also said the driver was drunk, and didn't notice how close he was to the truck right in front. The man fast asleep in the passenger seat never had a chance. The personnel from the army base who were charged with giving us the news said that his body was badly scarred and burned from the accident. An ID had already been made, so there was no need to go through the trauma of seeing him in that state."   Subscribe to Praeterita in a reader