Bienvenidos
Sean todos bienvenidos a mi espacio personal, mi sitio de escape y el unico rincon donde puedo expresar lo que me gusta hacer, espero les guste.
Saludos
Victor.
Saludos
Victor.
lunes, 29 de septiembre de 2008
sábado, 27 de septiembre de 2008
viernes, 26 de septiembre de 2008
Arbol de hadas 2
Porque surges de mi....y habitas en lo mas sombrío de mi alma...
Porque te evoco... y son pocas las veces de respuesta....
Espejismo inalcanzable de mis tantas batallas...
Te desnudas entera.........hada terrestre..
Te ato a mi piel......... hada volátil...
Te poseo segundos, minutos quizás, pero te poseo....hada efímera..
Burlo al tiempo, al espacio y a las reglas ....te hago mía.....
me conformo con imperceptibles sorbos de ti.....piedra filosofal...
Me pierdo en tu bosque ....tu vitalidad y tus colores que tanto me cegan ....
seré lo que quieres que sea...hada de hadas...mas no huyas...no huyas...
Porque te evoco... y son pocas las veces de respuesta....
Espejismo inalcanzable de mis tantas batallas...
Te desnudas entera.........hada terrestre..
Te ato a mi piel......... hada volátil...
Te poseo segundos, minutos quizás, pero te poseo....hada efímera..
Burlo al tiempo, al espacio y a las reglas ....te hago mía.....
me conformo con imperceptibles sorbos de ti.....piedra filosofal...
Me pierdo en tu bosque ....tu vitalidad y tus colores que tanto me cegan ....
seré lo que quieres que sea...hada de hadas...mas no huyas...no huyas...
Noelia Maravi.
martes, 23 de septiembre de 2008
domingo, 21 de septiembre de 2008
Porque recordar es volver a vivir ( 1º de secundaria )
Debo admitir que cada vez que veo estas historietas me emociono, a decir verdad tedria muchas mas de no ser por el profesor que me arrancaba las hojas por dibujar en el fondo del salon ,lo que me encanta de ellas es lo simple y emocionantes que son, no ceo poder volver a hacer algo si jamas , jajja lo que un par de lapiceros pueden hacer.. luego publicare otros dibujos que hice en el colegio pero estos son de los mas viejos que tengo, triangulos contra circulos...? jajajjaa
Disfruten el rico julbol.
viernes, 19 de septiembre de 2008
miércoles, 17 de septiembre de 2008
Verguenza ( entre trapos escondes tu verguenza )
Esta es una secuencia de tres cuadros titulada Verguenza el tercer cuadro aun no lo he terminado a decir verdad solo esta en boceto pero ya viene, apenas lo termine lo cuelgo, sigue el mismo concepto del boceto que esta mas abajo , en esta ocacion son lienzos pintados con oleo espero lo disfruten.
YA ESTA EL ULTIMO CUADRO .
martes, 16 de septiembre de 2008
En las nubes te confundes
De movimientos de relojería y de desesperación
Mi mujer de pantorrillas de médula de saúco
Mi mujer de pies de iniciales
De pies de llaveros
de pies de calafanes que beben
Mi mujer de cuello de cebada no perlada
Mi mujer de garganta de Valle de oro
De cita en el lecho mismo del torrente
De pechos de noche
(Mi serecito.....)
Andre breton.
lunes, 15 de septiembre de 2008
Verguenza
miércoles, 10 de septiembre de 2008
martes, 9 de septiembre de 2008
lunes, 8 de septiembre de 2008
Sangre para el ave
Julio Chevasco "Between hearts and leaves"
Never-Loved was hidden on the top of Farkas Peak, watching five crows flying over Bêrmelin Forest. From there, Bêrmelin looked like a giant maze of weed and fallen trees; not as days gone by, when spiky roses and orchids covered it with perfume and men still walked trough their once safe routes.
‘You, thief! Mind your own business!,’ said one of the crows. ‘I don’t like you staring at me and my children.’
But Never-Loved answered in the bird’s tongue: ‘It doesn’t smell like carrion nearby, where are you going crow?’
Old stories say bird-speakers were extremely wise mages or fearful brave warriors. Never-Loved was as wise as a mage and as strong as a warrior. So the crow trembled and whispered in the old Crow’s tongue: ‘A bird-speaker with a nose of a wolf may also know the tongue of the beasts. Keep going my children, and don’t look back until we’ve reached our nest.’
But once again, Never-Loved answered; this time speaking the old Crow’s tongue: ‘Stop leading that rubbish, foolish creature; and come close where I can see your beak.’
‘Why would a thief like you wanted to speak with a bird like me?,’ asked the crow. ‘As you know, Crows predict a black future if are consulted by a mortal. Is that what you want?’
By then, all the birds had stopped their course. Never-Loved looked at them with no smile in his face trying to reach the depths of their hearts, but those crows were born from a pure-blood line whose feathers acted as soul-scales, refusing the wizard’s bad eye.
‘Clever creatures,’ murmured as the old crow approached him. ‘I don’t need you as a fortune-teller, but as a guide to the forest’s heart,’ a long silence followed Never-Loved’s voice. The crow looked at their children for one last time and ordered them to leave. They obeyed.
‘Birds know me as Levanûk, The Wretched, but I’ve never heard of what you’re looking for,’ said the crow. ‘Who are you, thief?’
Silence. Levanûk flew around an old grey tree and stayed over a branch, staring at the obscure face of Never-Loved: A young, tall, long-grey-haired man, whose eyes were like amber and his skin darkish as his torn clothes. A smell of blood and rotten corpses came from his body.
Julio chevasco es un escritor peruano nacido en Lima Peru traductor de profesion , nos regala un pequeño fragmento de una de sus obras en ingles titulada between hearts and leaves .
Gracias por tu aporte Jules.... dale a la pitita...
‘You, thief! Mind your own business!,’ said one of the crows. ‘I don’t like you staring at me and my children.’
But Never-Loved answered in the bird’s tongue: ‘It doesn’t smell like carrion nearby, where are you going crow?’
Old stories say bird-speakers were extremely wise mages or fearful brave warriors. Never-Loved was as wise as a mage and as strong as a warrior. So the crow trembled and whispered in the old Crow’s tongue: ‘A bird-speaker with a nose of a wolf may also know the tongue of the beasts. Keep going my children, and don’t look back until we’ve reached our nest.’
But once again, Never-Loved answered; this time speaking the old Crow’s tongue: ‘Stop leading that rubbish, foolish creature; and come close where I can see your beak.’
‘Why would a thief like you wanted to speak with a bird like me?,’ asked the crow. ‘As you know, Crows predict a black future if are consulted by a mortal. Is that what you want?’
By then, all the birds had stopped their course. Never-Loved looked at them with no smile in his face trying to reach the depths of their hearts, but those crows were born from a pure-blood line whose feathers acted as soul-scales, refusing the wizard’s bad eye.
‘Clever creatures,’ murmured as the old crow approached him. ‘I don’t need you as a fortune-teller, but as a guide to the forest’s heart,’ a long silence followed Never-Loved’s voice. The crow looked at their children for one last time and ordered them to leave. They obeyed.
‘Birds know me as Levanûk, The Wretched, but I’ve never heard of what you’re looking for,’ said the crow. ‘Who are you, thief?’
Silence. Levanûk flew around an old grey tree and stayed over a branch, staring at the obscure face of Never-Loved: A young, tall, long-grey-haired man, whose eyes were like amber and his skin darkish as his torn clothes. A smell of blood and rotten corpses came from his body.
Julio chevasco es un escritor peruano nacido en Lima Peru traductor de profesion , nos regala un pequeño fragmento de una de sus obras en ingles titulada between hearts and leaves .
Gracias por tu aporte Jules.... dale a la pitita...
domingo, 7 de septiembre de 2008
Galeria de Noelia Maravi
sábado, 6 de septiembre de 2008
viernes, 5 de septiembre de 2008
El ser..
Pues les cuento que yo no solia usar colores empeze no hace mucho tiempo gracias a la inspiracion de una personita muy pequeña y amada por mi, mi estilo ha hido cambiando durante el tiempo y obviamente tiene mucho por cambiar no me considero un artista profesional , soy mas un aficionado con ganas de crecer con paciencia.
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