https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/about daily 0.75 2025-04-07 https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/home daily 0.75 2024-09-02 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/12e0ea6d-adf9-46f2-bdf9-8c9d43b1e8fc/B4FCCFEE-E620-4F22-8B19-65F28E696B74_1_105_c.jpeg Home https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/all-paintings daily 1.0 2024-09-02 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1724724123305-P46I0ORWLKOXG9F4GIQM/IMG_0205.jpeg Carolyn Stout Art https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/current-works daily 0.75 2025-12-27 https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/current-works/2026-work-in-progress monthly 0.5 2025-12-27 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/7e34a409-d9d0-4807-9c5d-2753a182a075/IMG_3376.JPG Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress The Price of Quiet Rest (in progress) My pain comes out of hiding at night, at least the kind that resides in my bones. It might be that I sleep, fetally folded, in on myself, tucked in, but not held anymore. Will I ever be held again? An old goddess might shelter me if I let her. Her mantra will replace, the train of my thinking, whose locomotion, awakens me in the darkness, instead of dictating my dreams. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/60351808-31fb-426f-9000-2614c4d613f9/IMG_3379.JPG Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Ego Ruse (in progress) Sometimes I want to be obliterated. I want to be compressed and cemented into the stratum. I'm so tired of the view, from this set of eyes. I'm so tired of the view, I project onto this world. I'm so tired of this nervous system, that over-extends its dendrites, tendrilling out and drawing in, more than is mine, more than I can handle. I want to be free of the cycle, of desire and disappointment, that is created by my ego's need, for some kind of definition. Just tell me my margins. Just give me a name. The wanting never ends and it makes everything harder. All of the doings that need to get done. The stacking and putting away. The purchasing and discarding. The purchasing of every thing. Everything that could possibly be purchased. Except for, what I need to know about myself. I've been rummaging through my ruminations. I gouge out trenches, and hollow out tiny tunnels, so that the the view is internal now. I am lost inside of my self, with only the dull brilliance from my lamp; since the anticipated glow at the end, does not light my way. The way out is to not search, but this answer was found, by my seeking. The game, is of sliding back and forth, between being awake and asleep, and being able to tell the difference. How do I let go of the view, and instead, view the viewer viewing the view, whose purpose is to view the view. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/15446e07-c352-4f38-83ed-29544fa9d2a6/IMG_3378.JPG Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Pit of Me (in progress) What purple hard grief, sits swallowed and undigested, lying still, waiting for birth, in the womb, of my mother's grave. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/718aaa97-19b2-4a48-aae5-2385be5d710e/IMG_2798.JPG Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Pain Portrait (in progress) There is an emptiness inside of me. It was born within me, before I was born. It is carved into each cell and I feel it all of the time. I try to fill it, because its need stretches and reaches out from the pit of me, up into my throat. It propels me forward through the illusion of time. I search the pained eyes of my people and offer something, but I take something too, in the hopes that the ache, will be settled for a moment. Light, airy things will not suffice. The emptiness requires something dark and heavy, that can press it down. This hole, that is always asking, takes me to the places that beauty resides. It forces me to perceive and consume copious amounts of beauty, that hide in the barks of trees and songs that dance in my skin. I am blessed by this longing. It makes me literate to the pain of my people. It helps me birth, and make what needs to be made. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8d297b60-a6dc-4ce9-a430-7c0e4ca7d2b4/IMG_4905.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Mother-wound (in progress) They did not warn me, when I was as full as the moon, that the hardest part would be shielding my children, from the quakes and the fire, of my panic. I am the ground they walk on, the bed they sleep in, so I must be even and steady and warm. But it has been hard to keep my milk sweet, when the possibility of poison, swims in my blood stream. There are sharp pieces of me that jut out, so I must bend and contort, to be consistently the consistency of softness. I must not get it right, the way that I was wronged. I need to scream, but the children will hear me. I need to wail, for a long, long time, but the dogs will start to panic. I need to claw at my own skin. I need to see the pain extruded from me. But then everyone will see my cracks, and know that I am broken. I am getting closer, to outliving my source. The phantom that I can't remember, but that I extrapolate, must have abandoned me; more than just, that one last time. Her last gulps of air, might as well have stolen my very breath. I need this breath for my scream now; but her ears are dust now. She can not hear me now. She can not come to me now. She can not repair any of my broken-ness. It is up to me, my poems, and my paintings. To find for myself and my children, what she could not give herself, and what she could not give to me. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/e68a218d-adf1-4441-8088-a6543b124894/IMG_4190.JPG Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress SHE I did not claim it; It... was and is still un- claimable. The desire that hid from me, but would peak out from corners of my life, shy and unnamable. For a while, what I wanted more, was to be wanted. That's where I thought love resided, that's where I thought, some power might be, bestowed to me. Just like in all of the stories, told to me. So, my life has been built, on the bricks of only one part of me, but these bricks are stacked, on the cemetaried version of me, fertilized by the ashes, of who I had to burn away, So that I wouldn't burn my life down. Sometimes, I'm fine. Other times, I ask: Why can't I do this? What of the parts of me that don't get to be? Will they be scattered in my garden? dissolved back into my blood? What will grow there? Fruit and flowers? or cancer? I'm at the edge and I don't know where to go. There's no one to tell me what to do. I'm just sort of waiting, for life to unfold and show me who I get to be. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/f65d1c7b-2ab2-4207-aab6-37980a93ea01/IMG_4264.JPG Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Creature (in progress) I am a new creature now. I don't know how, or when, it happened. Perhaps it was a slow and invisible metamorphosis, because there are times when I have felt quite cocooned. Like, the very soup of me is shifting. It's composition is now so unfamiliar, that I must reacquaint myself, with myself. The elements in me have lost their balance. The earth in me is quaking. The water in me is surging. The air is me is thick and stagnant. The fire in me has been smoldering for too long. I am a nesting doll who has run out of dolls. I think back to her, who I used to be. I have her memories. As I recall, she was happier than me. I have the authenticity now. But she had the pleasure of pleasing and I have lost that. I've lost track of my layers. Some that would get built up. Some that would be peeled away. They got lost in all of this time that is just, slipping by me. So here I am, dismantling all of these structures, that I can now see, all of these structures, that do not serve me, but have been governing, what I want, so that now I don't know, what I want. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/0f1dcd32-4664-4494-a8cd-11e82b9486a0/IMG_4935.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Inner Church (in progress) The holiest thing I found in church, was my own mind. I found it in the bowels of boredom. My child mind traced the line of eternity, to the sound of a droning man. My child mind traversed the detailed landscape, of swirling wood grain and slabs of stacked stone, and each face that like mine, was wan with waiting, for the end to arrive. I found a peace there, in the warm, echoing, incensed space. But it was not brought forth, by your special book, or your special bread. These only served to induce my escape, inward. An inner route paved over the course of 936 Sundays. A path to take me away, from the grocery line, from the traffic light, from the waiting for sleep. I've written so many stories for myself Had so many unspoken conversations church was enough for some but not for me This outer world is enough for some but not for me Boredom brought me closer to god More than a book ever could. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8adf0ef7-255f-4e67-a162-2718415074a5/IMG_4866.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor Goddess Abstract https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/a885ab90-80e0-41b7-972e-2403a53fab93/IMG_4762.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor Golden Abstract https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d12a7d3f-b3eb-490a-84a0-da3ccbeb69b7/IMG_4761.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor and Ink Zentangle https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/56a4b99f-2795-4b03-a445-43e256150bf1/IMG_4754.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Collage Therapy Experiment https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d4747057-d4b0-479d-aa98-dfe05f764626/IMG_4615.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor and Ink Internal Landscape https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d7173d1e-51d1-42b0-bb35-89a57202bf1d/IMG_4614.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor Roses https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/a13f3f93-e3ea-43bf-8e53-fda260195e4d/IMG_4613.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Winter Woes I can see it from afar the dryness of winter in the crusty edge of the earth the crusty edge of me picked apart and peeling off. Dusty, frozen clumps of iced up dirt, that trip me as I go to check on the chickens. We are all coughing and sore. The sounds of a virus reverberate through the walls of our lungs and this house that is warm but contaminated. I have only been skating the surface of sleep. It is not enough to heal me. We are all waiting for winter to pass. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2e6209ba-2c3a-4722-9aaa-c3cc75a89b00/IMG_4612.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor Collage Abstract https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/ca02ecb9-02f9-4668-9736-d671b4be6d2d/IMG_4611.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor Abstract Flowers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/ca5aba34-b3cf-4a01-b0e5-001cbae33829/IMG_4610.jpg Current Works - 2026 Work in Progress Watercolor and Ink River Floor https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/current-works/2024 monthly 0.5 2024-09-02 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8e4ddc68-1c4a-4971-9dab-1c57f3eb4615/IMG_5938.JPG Current Works - 2024 Mind over Migraine Painting by Carolyn Stout/Poem by Andrea Carcamo Pitsch My mind is amazing. My mind is a gift. My mind is all-powerful. My mind is not broken. My mind minds everything. I feel compassion for the most despicable creature you can imagine. I have sympathy for the devil— sympathizing over the explosion my head endured on December 12, 2019— has been something I could never have imagined. But here I am: growing, believing, thinking, imagining, creating. And you would have thought that the migraine would’ve shrunk. My brain would’ve transformed into something resembling dust— swept up, thrown away. But I told you: my mind is amazing. So Andrea— you can’t hate it. And you can’t hate me. How can you hate yourself when your mind is everything? https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1100ac52-736c-42f7-bbfb-6fccf555fb27/IMG_5933.JPG Current Works - 2024 Red Dress She doesn’t need a red dress. She sheds it and with it, her insecurities; she sheds the expectations and arbitrary standards, put on her by the layers of her world. She is bold and undressed, willing to show herself to the world; to expose the perfection of her imperfection. She is powerful and willing to face pain without defense. She is done hiding. Fuck the red dress. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/b7fd983f-87fe-4013-b94d-2b530166efa8/IMG_4827.JPG Current Works - 2024 Portrait of a Tree I https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/5f3ad1be-5986-4364-a633-63e8610d7e1c/IMG_4828.JPG Current Works - 2024 Portrait of a Tree II https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/7952713d-db2a-46c3-aaf3-e870f9e743f3/IMG_6113.JPG Current Works - 2024 Mercer Lake https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d3913736-f3a2-4058-9735-37ead109315e/IMG_6149.JPG Current Works - 2024 Pandemic Therapy Space https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/0b57e578-5964-451f-8826-96442c6f9e43/IMG_6179.JPG Current Works - 2024 Beneath the Winter I can't take this cold air any longer. It has sliced me open, and cut through my core, and left me... in a permanent shiver. I am wishing the winter away. With each step I take on the frozen ground, the surface grows harder and harder. Each step jolts, up into my frozen bones. It hurts to breathe, when parts of me are peeling off. I get to peel off this last layer though, and reveal the warm fertility, that is underneath. There is something kind, soft and loamy there. All of this green is just waiting for me, waiting in me, for a waltzing step, and an easy warm breath. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/515409fa-338a-49d1-b5ea-e41ec121308c/IMG_6170.JPG Current Works - 2024 Eric, Prince of Hearts https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/6bd7928a-cadd-4c64-bc60-34ebadf5d1c4/IMG_6188.JPG Current Works - 2024 Maladaptive Daydream The backwash of uncried tears, spills against the back of my skull. Unclean sorrow, waits for time's washing; to undo, all that was dreamt... done. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/b34a95c8-f832-4644-99cd-5c1b7c0c9c5f/IMG_6602.JPG Current Works - 2024 Emily's Aurora Inner propulsion, and then, an explosion of joyful colors. You exuberate, because you are free! You weep and howl, because you will be held! Your eyes and your stories wander, allllll around, circumnavigating what you know and what you can imagine. You are a bold dragon, who not only breathes the fire but eats it too. You have some of your mommy's magic; let it launch you far! https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/current-works/project-five-748cx-letab monthly 0.5 2024-08-27 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/865dd189-934f-4e86-82ca-59610d0a8b42/IMG_6190.JPG Current Works - 2020-2023 Shenandoah https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/c5058c58-ea7b-4550-aa43-b7d5bfc25549/IMG_0469.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Watershed https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1717106b-103f-41b7-b969-c85aa265ae8f/IMG_9201.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 The Wildness There is a forest, that is just on the edge of me. It is a little bit of wildness that butts up, against my ordered, suburban life, with its prescribed milestones and meetings. There are seasons that pass here, of hard ground and wet ground. The season of the turtle, the turkey, the fox. I try every season to cultivate a landscape . I want the unbounded beauty, but I also want it controlled and contained. I want the lushness, but without the rot that makes more lushness. I love the woods. I seek shelter in the community of trees. I seek comfort from skin to skin contact my soft skin against her rough skin. I seek solace in the shadows; where I find reprieve from the heat of my own aliveness. My ears are eased by the susurration of the leaves. But the wildness of the woods encroaches sometimes. It has a way of creeping into my landscape, whose possession is an assumption I have come to make The plot of land and the dome of sky that I covet, but it is not really mine, anymore than I am its. If anything, we borrow each other. So, as I was saying... the forest transgresses into the open field. It starts with the brambles that creep across and make the paths impassable to my delicate skin; any action I take will tear me up. I am sabotaged by what’s blowing in the wind. I am sabotaged by what grows underfoot without my awareness, even though I endeavor to be so aware of everything. I think I might just let the wildness happen. Trust the forest to grow where it needs to. and let the wild parts of me be wild. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/0fc83de5-0ab2-49c1-abbc-4128ff329f08/IMG_6726.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Batik Road https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/aef92006-4426-44f7-b198-6ae9f7862c98/IMG_9195.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Batik Earth So many forms of water here. So many forms of air. So many forms of flesh. We are all meandering about, in to and out of each other. What will happen? What is happening? What just happened? https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/f975225d-1b70-4a7b-a9ef-7f425be7a285/IMG_6723.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Batik Field Spring forth slow, green shoot, the soil has fed your seed, answer the sun's call. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/dda68642-76c6-4405-adba-0586d012839e/IMG_6393.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Buffy https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/518d368e-58e2-4109-8613-1f1efebffbca/IMG_9198.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Seasonal Shed Season of decay; the wilting and shedding of what was once fresh, folded into the smell of wet brown leaves piled and spread flat. This is the secret of new life, the life of my garden, of my womb. That which will be shed; that which is un-needed. What will be kept, to bear fruit in summer? Seeds keep their secrets, until they bloom. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/9c8963d4-9022-4a39-b0b5-30bde417390b/IMG_4482.JPG Current Works - 2020-2023 Bresnahan Woods I https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2977934e-1dde-4b37-ab7b-12410e87762b/IMG_0205.jpeg Current Works - 2020-2023 Veteran's Park Boardwalk Does the language find me? So that I may find me? A step further along in the forest. on some path, that I have painted. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/10de16b0-823d-4e1c-b090-e9f0864f8784/IMG_4934.JPG Current Works - 2020-2023 Spring Birch I https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/48a9af97-da39-4803-8539-38137c3cbdc7/IMG_4932.JPG Current Works - 2020-2023 Spring Birch II https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/current-works/2025-works-in-progress monthly 0.5 2025-12-27 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1743953983194-3NV0U593B7Y07BRXJA7M/IMG_7500.jpg Current Works - 2025 Butterfly The belly crawl urges you forward, from the potential of what was cold and dead. Up, toward a new layer of atmosphere. Up, toward a new sense of purpose. Let yourself dangle from what you know, into what you don't know. Let yourself go inside your own skin, to find the new colors, that haven't been seen or named and the wings, that will set you free, into an endless horizon, of new challenges. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/626d94a8-0091-4226-b901-eb1c3a04ebbb/IMG_2635.JPG Current Works - 2025 Tourscher Homestead I The dread of that road, and even the one before that, and even, the one before that, was felt as something that I couldn't quite swallow, as I sat in the back of a blue wagon. The crowd of those cars, gathered and impossibly parked; indicators of the chaos in the house, that was too warm and too small, so that nothing was contained. It all spilled out, like the blood of a deer, hanging from the oldest tree. The cousins spilled out too; running into the corn, into the heavy shade of the trees. And then running back in, weaving through each aunt and uncle, overstimulated strangers, looming and grabbing. Clusters of us, blocking the stairs, slowing my escape into back rooms, back rooms that slept three sisters to a bed, and also, where the guns were kept. (Which one killed my cousin?) What choice do I have now, but to root through my father's memories, and his ancient toys, cupboarded up, and kept underfoot of a grandma, who was more coarse than kind, from a lifetime of caretaking, for all but herself. Her roughness scraped me once. My amygdala misinterpreted it all. My fear was born from a misbelief, It was born on the kitchen table. It was born in the barn. It was the start of many tales I would tell myself, that dipped and turned like all those dreaded roads. I've since healed from the impact, of poorly executed, good intentions. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/3257f9ec-7160-47aa-ae06-bef6f2630c22/IMG_9017.JPG Current Works - 2025 Tourscher Homestead II There are layers here, that you can't see. They are buried here, with some water, that won't ever touch my tongue. Much like the language, that was spoken in rooms, that I was too afraid to enter. I was a small, scared child, who was never taught, how not to be scared. I would watch the well, that was just out the window, and wish for it to be magic. I am grown now so I can distinguish the layers; because they rose up within me too. The love that flows, from a honeyed heart. The anger that bursts from me, as though it were laughter. Even the fear, that I have long since, learned to ride the wave of, was a layer too; it was the first one. I can now hold, what was built and is building still, quickly, in the synaptic cleft, slowly, over the births and the deaths. The layers are in me and I am also one layer. But mine has some magic, that I got from that well. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/f60369e2-e563-4470-9d59-43c4c70c79c2/IMG_2636.JPG Current Works - 2025 Tourscher Homestead III The desire for my own patch of sky, was implanted in me early on, by intermittent, fear soaked visits, to the land of my father. The sky there, a cerulean dome, was stitched to the edges of tree studded hills. At night it was the darkest dark, I'd ever seen, if not for the illumination, of streaks of milk and limitless stars. I would look to the limitlessness of the sky, from the porch, from the cornfield, from the driveway, where I kicked the up the gravel, and coated myself with dust. It held the space I sought. Cool, clean space, from all the bodies of related strangers; cool, clean space, from my thoughts that like strangers, were hot and hovering. I can merge with everything but when I merge with the sky, I am the most free. I can forget, about the land that it is stitched to. I can forget, about the me that it is stitched to. There is a momentary cure, I can borrow from the sky, by expanding my breath, to match the expanse of the sky. The short years have past and my father's bones are long buried. The visits to the land of this teaching are less frequent now, and soaked with sentiment, instead of fear. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/46b01cc1-f5ef-45c9-a56c-9938c1547951/IMG_2284.JPG Current Works - 2025 Tourscher Homestead IV I look out on the land, but this time through my daughter's eyes. Her fears have always been expressed and then explained. She can breathe in all of the beauty, and the possibility, because she isn't holding her breath. She has been held more than me, because she was never afraid, to ask to be held. She is familiar with containment. She is solid within herself. She will step out onto each stone, towards who she is, and towards what she wants. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/c9236889-a04b-4000-a4c3-aa994bb58113/IMG_1092.JPG Current Works - 2025 Garden's Pain Behind the garden, she trudges through beauty. A flood of bitter petals, creates the song of summer's wind. She inhales, deeply, the juice of a delicate rose. Pain diffuses into her: from all of the stretching and reaching; from all of the opening and allowing; from all of the feeling and crying. She exhales, entirely, as she wafts away, through the delphinium. She shakes the blood, raw and red, from the white of her finger. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/b1474342-0d03-401b-8783-59df7317a296/IMG_1093.JPG Current Works - 2025 Juliette Juliette is beautiful. But, she is no flower in a field, because she will not yield. She is instead, tall and strong, like a young oak, learning how to bend in the wind; learning how to self sustain, on the driest of days. She is also a bird, flying all about in constant song. She is also the very sky; possessing all colors, and open and ready, for every possibility. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/5578bd62-8069-45bb-8ccc-006676e3642b/IMG_2174.JPG Current Works - 2025 Shenandoah II Launch me, launch me far; further than I've ever been. Show me the meaning, of eternal spaces. I will ride this out. I do not know where I need to go. I only know that I am going. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/66be17d8-2d7e-468f-99c4-05179eabcc2a/IMG_2634.JPG Current Works - 2025 Piece of Peace There is a piece of peace and it is in your eye/I It is the place where your vision lands. It is the space, that the light of your consciousness illuminates. You are blind to what you are blind to. You cannot know what you do not know. So you need to look as deeply as you can, so as to untangle you ganglions and follow them back to the beginning, to see how the stones of you are stacked. But the eye/I needs a mirror to see itself We are all reflect back to the eyes of the other, the eyes of the other. Like an infinity of mirrors, light is bouncing everywhere. Let it guide your way. I will be by your side. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/681722ad-a251-4650-b284-849c959e3719/IMG_2633.JPG Current Works - 2025 Sometimes Sometimes, I forget that I'm alive. My eyes simply stop looking out. I sink back, downer and deeper, into something else. An else in which I do not sense, and I do not perceive, and there are no questions. When I come back, what is real seems much less real. I can see each beam and column and slab, piled carefully and carelessly, co-constructed unconsciously, by all of us. I can discern the roots of it all, reaching out, without need but with only curiosity, from the other state. The roots reach out through me, filtered and translated by my spirals and my solidity. This is the most alive, that I have ever been. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d806f854-f2c5-48d3-a08c-70f1e36a1ffd/IMG_2638.JPG Current Works - 2025 Sweet Potato Sunset https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/15705b3d-a008-4182-823a-e4942d5c872d/IMG_3105.JPG Current Works - 2025 Disillusion Haiku Sometimes what you see, well, it isn't always there, you can trick yourself. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/69c6d3ae-afbd-4abd-9826-0f843538872d/IMG_2897.JPG Current Works - 2025 Automaticity The automaticity, of doing things, over and over and over until it's all over. Is this something, that will build me? Or is this something, that will erode me? Because, I feel more like dust, than a mountain. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/3aec7911-4e42-45ee-9ae2-bb9e31632b58/IMG_2891.JPG Current Works - 2025 Water color Iris https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/e9cabbc1-055e-44e7-8d1e-15e6d21cbac6/IMG_1645.JPG Current Works - 2025 Oil pastel tree https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/644d9334-e150-40a1-a9b2-10a2a7c18fb6/IMG_1760.JPG Current Works - 2025 Marker sketch https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8cd2bb5a-d38f-48f2-91cc-2dd3b9dcfb66/IMG_2487.JPG Current Works - 2025 Watercolor and ink butterfly https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/30c24e73-d62b-4c91-ac22-60165f28852b/IMG_2486.JPG Current Works - 2025 Watercolor and ink dragonfly https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1304c5d5-7c5c-4012-8f5f-0d040e951da9/IMG_3099.JPG Current Works - 2025 Watercolor and ink sketch https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/5e304df1-955a-4a90-a8d6-60472807cc70/IMG_3067.JPG Current Works - 2025 Watercolor and ink night sky https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8cbad794-7453-4923-9bf9-36e7c042ecd2/IMG_3380.JPG Current Works - 2025 Field of Wild Iris-oil pastel https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/pastworks daily 0.75 2025-04-07 https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/pastworks/student-work monthly 0.5 2024-09-02 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8aa78729-a61f-480a-8f76-5d8e8a879fc6/IMG_3588.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/c831437e-12f9-4b6f-a487-9fdbbabd5d4a/IMG_3605.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/3dfa1f31-2bbd-4745-b124-7170a7a25d7d/IMG_3598.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/95fcb475-1658-453d-a33e-9a0c439ca5ed/IMG_3601.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/30015f31-20a1-40b3-adc2-4d08d4ab7f74/IMG_3574.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/691ca951-0868-46f2-b62a-139c99209d6d/IMG_3659.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d4f96469-163d-4c00-bd02-d03e8f49e3f8/IMG_3591.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Monster The possessor possesses the fullness and the emptiness. The sucking, slurping sounds of a black holes, consuming themselves. They are still quite hungry. Bloated bent bodies carving, each new space with each old breath. Each shift of line or shift of time, Waking, at the same moment, as it’s dying. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/956039a5-5b86-46f1-a7eb-fab48b41c8e9/IMG_3382.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Resist I am not the wasted blood. I will not be shed prematurely, to be slept away by these hours of darkness. I will not be plucked, like the fibrous flesh of flowers whose eroded roots, have betrayed them. I can not hold deeply, the secrets of blank paper pages, when the same cycles of words, go unwritten. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/39a27afe-e93d-4825-9db4-517ba558415e/IMG_3597.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Changing your Thinking The bad habits of my brain; the spiraling spaghetti it can not contain. Connections move so fast, it's a hard thing to change, to limit the expanse of my emotional range. So, I start with each tendril of the knotted, jumbled cord. Like ball of holiday lights and I don't mumble a word. I turn inwards toward myself, to the quiet inside, as awareness unfolds, and the chaos subsides. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2554c2ab-20fb-47e1-817d-257976e1b337/IMG_9174.jpeg Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 She Knows I am no victim of experience! she screamed, as a wind flew into her lungs and gave her meaning sound.... She was the daughter of light, born at an hour of darkness. The capturing of the sun by the moon, had stolen the sight of all of the creatures born, but her eyes held onto their vision. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/e697ed39-ca59-431a-ae64-b573d8034fb1/IMG_3587.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/82663bc8-2069-40ad-814a-efc73f55636a/IMG_3616.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/4eb1ac09-82a1-45b6-a5e9-c5d0e36a40f6/IMG_3612.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2a574c69-e7e0-4365-8138-97d1534e9c16/IMG_9176.jpeg Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Mom Trauma Mom; like an image from Giger, the tubes exit and enter, and enrobe your form. We lost you, before we lost you. Sometimes, I can't even remember. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/0b8d2661-9a85-48ce-83bd-8258cc79c4cd/IMG_9188.jpeg Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2030a327-e621-4a32-9771-d81509fcdc1a/IMG_3379.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Drunk Angel drunk angel, whisper through the void, sing a delirious vision, smooth and frantic, like eternity. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/04ec393f-af85-484e-860d-d43f7e11a8c1/IMG_4343.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/bfb958a9-7aff-48d9-ad66-d99c947386dc/IMG_9179.jpeg Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Lost Artist Where is my lost artist? Wandering and bleeding, through internal landscapes, crawling under cities, without rest or friends, diving into knowledge, so pretentiously kept, so pretentiously shared. The momentum of flying, flung paint, whose invisible symbols, coat my lungs and my skin, The looseness of my hand and hair, free. A dancing stained shirt. Unconstrained concentration, divining the sky, into this room, through this spirit. Time, unclenches its hand. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/106c42b5-8ed4-4c75-aafa-111134248a80/IMG_3662.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/a25f9b77-1da9-497a-bad2-a24d1fef0067/IMG_3655.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d5a4b544-6ef2-4548-8317-b713de2e73c7/IMG_3566.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2642270f-a750-4d22-9881-b14e470a2fbf/IMG_3570.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 Baby Girl Why does she leave me alone? again and again and why does it cause me so much pain? again and again Why is my greatness not enough to earn her attention, to fill this chasm, from which my scream is sent forth? https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/513a2366-4459-4427-8b7f-64cad2cd66fa/IMG_3673.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/6cadeff3-0f3e-4d95-b760-2ffec1094c5a/IMG_3567.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1d1024ff-43e0-41ce-a41b-cdb36c5a3cc3/IMG_3676.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/fc0a3c4e-f6f5-47ff-a6d0-d4d37249566c/IMG_3677.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/ca37e3e1-9e53-436e-b482-eebb152642e1/IMG_3674.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/7b67fe32-0fdf-47d5-9fd5-98d57b045f35/IMG_3560.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/da003884-29ad-4217-a219-bf0b45e0e16e/IMG_3645.JPG Past Works - Student Work 1989-1996 https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/pastworks/20052020 monthly 0.5 2024-08-27 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/b6dfe772-b568-422d-8d01-859dbc028d8f/DSC_0962.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Fall https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/7b83cebb-ba53-440d-8e37-4cb0732fee2e/DSC_0967.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Tree I https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/055a50f6-990d-4df3-91d6-a9e40d534857/DSC_0965.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Winter https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/a37bfd5b-7c3c-4531-9881-15a81884ae43/DSC_0966.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Tree II https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/578e2ee8-3d35-4861-9f7e-054a8b7c6534/DSC_0964.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Spring https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/9541800d-c7c4-4ab0-bc8c-c47ef67016cf/DSC_0963.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Summer https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/29611fbc-d3a5-4fb4-b23a-6cb39af234bc/IMG_1100.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Wood Shed Flower Mural https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/c302ef42-6fa2-4545-a01f-8bdcd05660ac/DSC_0038.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Nursery Fairies https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1743990710340-XGM3DY18HMBWEA43E6KW/IMG_4340.jpg Past Works - 2005-2020 Elemental Here I am, with eyes beholding, a world unfolding. Each breath feeds the breadth of my elaborate constructions of what I have and what I am making. My vision sculpts the soft curves of something-ness and the hard angles of nothingness. In the focus on my perception, each tangle of ideas, each wash of new emotion, structures my new devotion, to the world of this moment. My being, births a world, and my becoming, keeps it moving. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/d40b668c-bb94-4102-bb4d-bba3faf453d8/IMG_4341.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Forsythia Study https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/164658fe-6d15-4454-a515-a17d130043b7/IMG_9190.jpeg Past Works - 2005-2020 Pathway I am the sacred soil of my family. I await the will of heaven. I surrender my hunger, to the nourishment of the sun, whose light feeds longer days. I will feed myself with patience; hold my arms and my heart open; and breathe each breath just, one at a time. I know what I want, but, I can not will it alone. I need the will of love joined. I need the blessing of new life to my open, waiting womb. Bless me and anoint me, mother. For I am your daughter, whose daughter's daughter will dance to your song. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/8204d199-3f3f-4785-8880-e7064d833bf3/IMG_4856.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 God's Wife Wating I am here for you, at your disposal, in your mind and in my mind, I am here, just waiting. That's what I am here for, right? I should just want to be wanted. I will wait for you to want me. I will wait for you to marry me. I will wait for you to decide when you are ready. I am ready, but I have to wait. I am kept warm for when the time is right, for you, but what about my time? What about my wanting? I desire something too and it is deep in these embers, deep in the fire that has been burning slowly, this whole time. Its brightness is reaching out from my root. I don't know where this fire will go, nevertheless, I will eventually go from this spot and stride towards what I want, for once, instead of waiting. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/2b99b595-aa56-4105-ac54-09a0c3a501d2/IMG_9181.jpeg Past Works - 2005-2020 Passion Puddle Sloping grasses, are crawling slowly, to the water's edge. Waiting water, for the sun to give it reflection, as it tickles and pickles the skin. Potential stillness in dancers, crackling through the stretch marks of barks. Meditation of thieves in the shadows, with itchy feathers, flapping correction. I feel, the wine of the grass roots dip into my fingers, I hear, the summons of hecklers bounce off of blue ceiling. Grass, softer than my skin, wind, sweeter than my perfume, lines, unapproachable by my hand, Songs, misinterpreted by my voice. Body of my spirit, meddling or of the melody, a stain, weaved into fabrics, of rhythm and radiation, all balanced, on the whisper of a fool. A dog falls into the water. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/b66237c3-6f92-46d7-83ff-9a066c265823/IMG_5027.JPG Past Works - 2005-2020 Waterfall I https://www.carolynstoutstudio.com/pastworks/project-one-ephnc-93s9d monthly 0.5 2024-09-02 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/aee2aac0-86aa-4da0-bd8b-d03c57d4dae3/IMG_4344.JPG Past Works - 1997-2005 Five Elements Balanced Batik 1996 The love of a man, who I knew as a boy, shelters me, more than I should let it. Shuffling feet, that measure the beat, of the time that travels between us. If without him, I am waiting. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/02c9fbbe-a927-47f2-adf8-8e68a9341773/IMG_9193.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 Enchanted Woods My city of oil and glass, with stained sidewalks and my sore feet, walking, walking, waiting for the train, the weight of art in my hand, on my back, and in my mind. I am a stranger in this city, with no friend but time. Time; resented and lost, translucent medium, of unwanted, resisted action. My forgotten city of glass and sadness, oil and integrity. Where do I stand without, pavement and strangers? https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/1724725739805-UDHI0HVJZY8RVVFVCXZK/IMG_9177.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 Disassociation I hyper attend to the moment as it shifts, from sensation to sensation. It is bubbling up and out through the edge, until there is no edge. The blur of me has expanded into the everything. The heat of my interior is the same as the heat of my exterior. Are my feelings as unreal as yours, when I try to feel your feelings for you? If I am making it all up, is it not still made? We are all making this up. Your line of vision, dissects my line of vision, bisects his line of vision, ad infinitum, until all of the colors are accounted for https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/49995ce0-5407-4891-a2dd-49f7ecffa7b1/IMG_9196.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 Elements in Action That which is greater than me; that which I am a piece of. Swirl of the elements; I become the swirl. The swirl of the water, the hot air; I feel it on my edges. I close my eyes and then become it. We are one for this moment. Each thing I behold, I bring inside of me. Each thing I behold, then passes through me. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/65df6b60-3131-40cf-b99a-f1eed5c45336/IMG_9180.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 My Heart Exploding, Close-up Days when I can't let go, are made for learning. Dreams that I can't forsake, are made for yearning. Love, even without known purpose, is what my heart is for. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/b5af9d6c-2abc-48c5-8b98-2a3ead83f35b/IMG_5043.JPG Past Works - 1997-2005 My Heart Exploding My heart cracks open. The light streams out, beaming and bleeding, strong and steadfast. It breaks through the veils of iron reality. It banishes the shadows, into deeper, darker corners. How can this light be born of such pain? How can this love compound itself? As sorrow pours from me, as loss has filled me, and I am left with nothing, but this love and this pain. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/10d34078-b05d-4ce1-bba2-d385eb80f301/IMG_3384.JPG Past Works - 1997-2005 Distance Turn up the music, to drown out the sound, of the silence between us. Echoless words seep out of the side of our mouths. Meaningless whispers that creep into our ears. My mind has run out of sentences, that might heal our old out of date wounds. Our yarn has been unraveled, by the monotony of each other and the time to wander has wandered near. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/67cfb9b2-da1d-4f16-9dcc-b38cd71a72d9/IMG_9182.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 When Our Sun Burns Out The sun; gold, glowing, juicy center of this spinning system. Quick fire, slow fire, burn in the sky, in my middle. Reach for me with your colors and gravity. Black center; sucking out the marrow of my bones. Drawn too deep, beyond the point of return, collapsed inside, out of itself, until there is nothing but nothing. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/441d321a-8ff0-44f4-8575-e8d5d2797168/IMG_9178.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 Jealousy There is a hot sadness, that falls down, the whole of me. So sad, that there is nothing left here, but a hole, of what I wanted to be; to be wanted, by you. My green eye aches, with the not having. Another has stolen, what was never mine. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/c40f9590-144e-4e25-8c13-d9a271b8b51d/IMG_9194.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 I AM/NOT I am not I. I am not you. I am without I. I am without you. Alone, isolated, across the salted sea, from what I thought I used to be. Without a me, I can feel free, for once to rest and simply be. Without the do or the dance, I am open to the chance, to let my solid edges bleed, into air and supersede. The boundaries of self so freed; cut loose and softly, spreading thin, into the vastness without, and the vastness within. I am not I. I am. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/85f0e15c-5625-46ef-921c-328bc3fb0872/IMG_9199.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 Breaths The first one, breathed in the presence, of two, tall trees. My life, brought forth suddenly; a gulp of air, and then a cry. The first of many of both things. Life unfolds in so many ways. Each unfolding, is at times, expected and yet unnoticed; is at others, unpredictable and upending. I am more naked, than they will ever be; more free. I can't help but have the skin of me, be exposed, to every sensation. If you are going to feel the everythingness of every thing, then you will have to be strong. Strong like trees that bend in the wind; that reach their arms toward the sun; and drink deeply from the earth's rich waters. Breaths, the last ones; watched; one at a time. The waiting, to see if there would be another, We can't know if it is the last breath, until it is unfollowed. The magick of my welcoming, the magick of their departing; this witnessing was a secret gift, given to my unfolding life, tied with ribbons, from long lines of love and pain. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/284cf26c-1e35-4caf-ae44-27285cfb3f7c/IMG_3381.JPG Past Works - 1997-2005 Iris Study/Beauty Your beauty. Surprises me every time. I'll just be looking... and then, there it is, right before me; just, so much to be taken in. It's always there, even when I'm not looking. Beauty that is there, even without an eye, to behold it. Beauty that is there, with its softness and its strength with its colors and its shadows. Beauty that gets to be, what it wants to be. Beauty that won't do, what it's told to do. Beauty that is not beholden to the eye that beholds it. It won't be collected, controlled or weaponized. This word that I keep repeating: Beauty, beauty, beauty. Beauty that always beckons my eye back to it. Such abundance available to me. and all I have is this poem. I am so grateful. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/66cca313ce6d992f786c1714/80554424-1ba0-424a-b811-1c85b18010d7/IMG_9197.jpeg Past Works - 1997-2005 Self Portrait in Poppies Unstirred surface, steady hand, straight eyes, unhinge heaven, let all of the stars, tumble down, into my soup, splashing surface, alert hands, wet eyes, soil shakes, the means and the ends, crumble free, covering my feet, quiet again, the sweet blue stillness, urges another disruption, it's laughing depths, heckle the sky.