tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40725588515731100482024-02-19T14:21:58.378-08:00I SAW ART TODAYI look for art everywhere I go. Art just happens whenever anyone puts their mind to it and wants to express what they are thinking, feeling, seeing or reacting to.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comBlogger314125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-60645910058076888462013-04-15T16:23:00.000-07:002013-04-15T16:23:04.458-07:00GLYPH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tuesday, March 19, 2013. The lava fields around the active volcano on Hawaii. A spiritual place, a holy place, a place where people went to commune with the ancestors and to continue their line. I saw this around Kona, in shops, and then I saw this on the lava field. Rough, minimal, meaningful.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-11377876563520961842013-04-15T16:15:00.001-07:002013-04-15T16:15:21.353-07:00TIKI<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday, March 87, 2013. We stand tall, we stand here, we are here. What carver dreamed about these, and gave each of them their unique countenance? They stand on sacred ground. They stand at the Place of Refuge. I wonder if they are here to warn me from seeking refuge or to warn others from violating the refuge they provide. </div>
Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-85500723868007722042013-04-15T16:01:00.001-07:002013-04-15T16:01:49.181-07:00WEEPING FACE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunday, March 17, 2013. He guards the spot of remembrance for children swept away by tsunami. His grimace, is it to prevent his stone face from shedding tears, or is to scowl at the ocean as a reprimand or as disapproval? His visage does not say to come here lightly, but to come here and consider what happened. We do. We think about the power of water, and we watch it at this site.<br />Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-61386358624676915982013-04-15T15:49:00.001-07:002013-04-15T15:49:30.315-07:00NAILS ON WOOD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, March 16, 2013. Metal and wood figures in a lot of work I see. Central Park's trees try to incorporate metal that they come in contact with and encircle it, to hide it, to include it. This post cannot grow, the staples and nails are there, visible, permanent, unless someone removes them. They are a testament to the utility of this post as a communications tool. Over and over messages were left and removed, read and destroyed, remembered and forgotten.<br />Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-40373499437880890332013-04-15T15:40:00.001-07:002013-04-15T15:40:30.232-07:00COFFEE TREE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Friday, March 15, 2013. What a beauty at 100+ years. This old coffee tree is one of the originals at a plantation in Kona, Hawaii. The trunk twisted and thick, spotted with lichen, sprouting a few leaves, trimmed of its many branches. It is no longer fruiting, but a testament to nature.<br />Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-43432060200530210812013-04-15T15:31:00.001-07:002013-04-15T15:31:05.994-07:00HOMAGE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wednesday, March 13, 2013. Palau. I can never look at fowl without thinking of Jakuchu's Colorful Realm. This particular rooster was in Palau, part of Micronesia, preening in the early morning sun, before I left to dive far out in the Pacific. He was a beauty. His contortion turns him into a ball, with a tail, seeing where he has been but not where he is going to.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-19244670254472768002013-02-27T04:10:00.002-08:002013-02-27T04:10:41.555-08:00RED FISH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, February 23, 2013. A red fish swimming in a yellow sea - maybe a premonition for my next diving trip. I don't often see yellow coral, so maybe this fish has jumped out of the ocean to view the sun from a different point of view.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-26968551769737634872013-02-26T04:14:00.000-08:002013-02-26T04:14:08.749-08:00STOMPER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, January 26, 2013. My nephew used to call draft horses 'stompers.' I immediately thought of that when I saw this image worn into the orange safety strip on the subway. It might be one of the Titans, and every time his foot reaches the earth it becomes huge, the other foot lifted into the surrounding universe, and small to our sight.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-67073539075595902212013-02-26T04:07:00.001-08:002013-02-26T04:07:38.417-08:00SNOW SCRIM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday, January 21, 2013. A scrim of falling mist, turning to snow in front of my eyes. It was so cold and the snow makers were making snow, not the heavens, but men snow makers. This entire section of the park was blanketed with a fine mist that fell as snow, and the trees and the brightening sky were hidden behind this lovely shifting pattern of frozen mist.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-20624691047842495242013-02-26T04:00:00.001-08:002013-02-26T04:00:19.710-08:00HALF CIRCLES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday, January 21, 2013. Early morning in the park, the half moon of the reservoir pointing to the brilliant red of dawn. Everything was circular for me, the water, the tree line, the duck's wake, the coming sun.</div>
Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-43907354525454150002013-02-25T04:20:00.000-08:002013-02-25T04:20:58.999-08:00MIXED MEDIA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunday, January 20, 2013. How long had this escaped my attention? 29 years? This tree, and some unknown Parks worker, started this piece many years and the tree has engulfed the stranger that came to be pressed against its mighty and growing trunk. Now I see this all along my walk and I recognize the shape and I recognize the tree and its unyielding need to grow. Life will always find a way.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-25534763450897247722013-02-25T04:12:00.001-08:002013-02-25T04:12:50.406-08:00EL BARIO<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, January 19, 2013. What luck, for me and for countless others. Art comes to you. Art drives by. Art parks next to your home. I wonder if this was welcome by the owner of the vehicle, or some random act, which then the owner couldn't wash away. What a sight our streets would be if all panel trucks were covered with art that travelled around Manhattan, Queens, Brooklyn, Bronx and Staten Island. Maybe it would even travel further afield and blanket the roadways, exporting vibrant color, text and imagery.<br />Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-76215543710230899822013-02-25T04:01:00.001-08:002013-02-25T04:02:39.863-08:00THE EXPANSE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tuesday, January 15, 2013. I recognized this solitary vessel, floating in the broad expanse, alone and isolated from community. Is it drifting or resting, bound for a destination or not? Or could it be a pleasure boat, unmoored, but containing delights beneath its peaked roof. See how the moon illuminates it on this night voyage with the secrets beneath.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-41971252243129840552013-01-13T06:54:00.000-08:002013-01-13T06:54:05.948-08:00KITE IN FLIGHT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76yZzHj7h5Sq1VdXesG0qItANB6XequkmedtvorHeZeyNL0NLXU09MD1zLKgksboTZzo8JYsv-2mQg2Xjx56GmQaOK0817xTana0s2AdzIiW9GHnFjKgrdpjzhX3a_mMsU7ZGrXj16lSI/s1600/hunting+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76yZzHj7h5Sq1VdXesG0qItANB6XequkmedtvorHeZeyNL0NLXU09MD1zLKgksboTZzo8JYsv-2mQg2Xjx56GmQaOK0817xTana0s2AdzIiW9GHnFjKgrdpjzhX3a_mMsU7ZGrXj16lSI/s400/hunting+bird.jpg" width="300" /></a>Sunday, January 6, 2013. What random act of man and nature created this scene of a bird of prey against a winter sky, flying high over the mountains? Walking, walking, walking, I turn my head to the earth, not skyward, and I pass this image by, but I returned to it. What a perfect reflection of what I did see that day, as red-tailed hawks soared over the park on a hunt or maybe just a territory review. Would some Department of Transportation road painter be pleased that this was the result of her work? This pebbly bubble of white, rough-edged for the mountains and textured snowy white for the sky, might not be what she had in mind.</div>
Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-53111206012870678442013-01-07T19:54:00.001-08:002013-01-13T06:56:08.340-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</a>Sunday, December 22, 2012. I was getting ready to leave on a holiday trip. Glass, twinkling in the early morning light, caught the sunlight and sparkled in the early cold. I love the tiny shapes that shattered auto windows make, the green blue of the pieces strewn on the ground. I would like a box of them that I could take out to look at whenever I wanted to.<br />Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-30602932378538515992012-12-19T20:40:00.000-08:002012-12-19T20:40:37.380-08:00RUSTED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, December 15, 2012. A familiar sign, known across the country, is transformed by weather and oxidation. The sign has become something else, a softened version of its former self. The solid bar in the middle looks like it might be soft to the touch, as if the admonition regarding your proposed action might not be so absolute. Do you now dare to do what has been forbidden?Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-43451837693713536742012-12-19T20:26:00.000-08:002012-12-19T20:26:08.403-08:00I STAND ALONE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunday, December 2, 2012. A spot of color in a somber background, this leaf hangs on, refusing to drop from its perch, braving wind, rain and passersby. The edges have burned to a crisp brown, but the red is still rich and ripe with the potential to reflect the sun, if it peeks out. I like the tenacity of any living thing that goes its own way.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-60172767348021440912012-12-11T19:24:00.001-08:002012-12-11T19:24:21.568-08:00Beaded Beauties<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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December 8, 2012. A morning walk in Central Park and the fog is thick in the air, the moisture collecting and dripping on branches and fruit. It glistens in the wan sunlight, which is struggling to break through the mist. The birds have left these little grapes to collect the drops of water and shine in the morning light. Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-19402415905324520152012-12-11T18:59:00.001-08:002012-12-11T18:59:50.259-08:00THE SPIRITUAL GAVE BIRTH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, November 17, 2012. A lost letter, a discourse gone astray, a page turned and torn, gone away from the writer, or the receiver. I was between engagements, done with one, going to another and there was this correspondence, someone's ponderings on the spritual and the natural. The natural seems to have the upper hand, eventually returning the idea to the spiritual.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-61555341075933761352012-11-14T04:03:00.000-08:002012-11-14T04:03:55.564-08:00THE MISTS OF NOVEMBER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday, November 12, 2012. There is so much mystery in the mist. What is coming? Is it hopeful, dangerous, prowling or wonderful? I can imagine I am in many places, least of all where I really am. I can see the distant shapes of something, I can see the far expanse of nothing. And yet I will walk on into it, expectant and eager as to what lies ahead.<br />Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-18518308834216251442012-10-29T18:48:00.001-07:002012-10-29T18:48:05.079-07:00SHELTER FROM THE STORM<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Monday, October 29, 2012. Even the fallen leaves have sought shelter, glistening in the corner of ramp. Every color of them has come together, tossed about and blown asunder. In the darkness, only the flash of my camera illuminates the red and the orange and shines on the yellow. They rest a bit, before they will be called again into the swirling pull of the next gust.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-39201789975373501892012-10-29T16:00:00.000-07:002012-10-29T16:00:15.430-07:00RED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sunday, October 28, 2012. Red leaves gently harbor a stray brown, welcoming it into a soft embrace. This is a red that Vreeland probably appreciated at one time or another. Singular, occurring just this once, in this shade and sheen. It might repeat itself year after year, but not in its entirety. It is a standout, this little tree, hardly more than a bush, but radiant in its brashness.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-4457847229928784862012-10-29T15:51:00.001-07:002012-10-29T15:51:19.101-07:00SILVER POLE #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, October 20, 2012. This image looks so unreal to me, like I pasted the bar code on a silver pole on top of a background. It looks almost flat and like it doesn't belong in the scene, but this is New York, and there it is and nothing can be done about it.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-23651905895746484952012-10-29T15:43:00.000-07:002012-10-29T15:44:53.744-07:00PHANTOM FENCE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, October 13, 2012. The sun was so bright that the filigree pattern seemed as solid as the actual fence. The delicate hues of the sandstone - blue, pink, gray - were enhanced by the solidness of this ephemeral image.Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4072558851573110048.post-15471011786680883092012-10-29T14:50:00.000-07:002012-10-29T14:52:07.891-07:00SUMAC COLORS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Saturday, October 27, 2012. My own fall color tour through Central Park, along the Reservoir. I could see them in the distance, the brilliant red, the golden yellow, orange, the soft salmon and the green not willing to go quite yet. It was just a patch, just a spot, that wanted to focus the attention of anyone passing by, only for a second - just long enough to marvel at the perfect melding of hues. It will now be gone in the rush of the hurricane, but I beheld it just that once.</div>
Ken Majerushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06612277554051216593noreply@blogger.com