Support Wally & Lower Mid-City New Orleans
Originally uploaded by New Orleans Lady
Support Wally & Lower Mid-City New Orleans
Celebrate "Wally Fest"
Saturday, 11/21/2009
6:00PM
300 South Tonti Street
Lower Mid-City
New Orleans, Louisiana
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Support Wally & Lower Mid-City New Orleans
Support Wally & Lower Mid-City New Orleans
Originally uploaded by New Orleans Lady
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Hungry Broke and Famous
Hungry Broke and Famous
Originally uploaded by dingler1109
Artwork by Rex, currently at Coup D'Oeil (2033 Magazine Street in the LGD of NoLA)
Monday, October 19, 2009
Rex's Birthday Celebration and Art Show...
THE DINGLERIZATION OF AMERICA - 2009
On Saturday, November 7th, NoLA Rising presents "The Dinglerization of
America" at Coup D'oeil (2033 Magazine Street).
Private Reception from 4-6, Opening from 6-10. Nov 7th.
Artwork by Rex Dingler
Performance by Bella Blue
Video Installation by Crista Rock
Music by DJ Stress
White Trash Eats by Melissa Levine
*Also a birthday celebration for Rex...no presents required unless
your bringing 12 Year Jameson*
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE IS THE FORCE OF LIFE
www.michaeldingler.com/
www.coupdoeilartconsortium.com/
Monday, September 14, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Henry Miller Quote from Tropic of Cancer
...a favorite author clears up my view on art well before I internally summarized it myself...
QUOTE:
"I have no money, no resources, no hope. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am. Everything that was literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written, thank God.
"This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty...what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse...
"To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing."
QUOTE:
"I have no money, no resources, no hope. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist. I no longer think about it, I am. Everything that was literature has fallen from me. There are no more books to be written, thank God.
"This then? This is not a book. This is libel, slander, defamation of character. This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word. No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty...what you will. I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing. I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse...
"To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music. It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is to want to sing. This then is a song. I am singing."
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Your Life is Art by Ann Voskamp
"And I nearly grabbed a pen right there, to, quick, write you back, asking if you knew about the grime edged around the lining of the dishwasher, the layer of dust atop of my stackable dryer? The way my mudroom closet insists on being a kiltered disarray of failed (but zealous) organizational attempts, the way my oven burns at the craters of igneous rock littered across its belly. I wanted to tell you, for all our washed floors and sparkly toilets, I know some corners, some crannies, that you might not deem art.
But perhaps you, wise friend, would. Maybe it's just me who is still learning that it's not perfection that makes one's life a work of art. It's how one sees. It's taking me a lifetime to wrap the corners of my heart around it: beauty isn't a product to be be found in the material world. It's a function of the way the eye and soul work together.
Therein is the making of art.
So somedays I remember and my eyes frame my basket of mismatched socks, my soul frames the legos that breed like rabbits. Somedays I remember that in the working out of a one-piece life, this weaving of my life, a cloth of seamless avodah, the whole of life becomes beauty.
Parts of a life can't be cut up or amputated in the framing. When you frame a life as art, frame the whole of it. Really, all lives are art when rightly seen.
All lives become masterful still lifes when we still to see the moments as beauty.
Artists once only deemed the noble, the laces and velvets, the grand, worthy of luscious paint strokes. It was radically revolutionary to lay down rich colors for a bowl fruit, a woman pouring out milk. But the masters discovered that the essence of art isn't subject-matter. (Frame the legos! the dust bunnies!) Subject-matter is secondary to seeing all matter with fresh eyes, seeing and feeling in this moment.
Life becomes art when we attend to the colors of now.
So, you too, my exuberant writing friend, pick up your moments. They're all frameable!
Life only paints exquisite brushstrokes."
But perhaps you, wise friend, would. Maybe it's just me who is still learning that it's not perfection that makes one's life a work of art. It's how one sees. It's taking me a lifetime to wrap the corners of my heart around it: beauty isn't a product to be be found in the material world. It's a function of the way the eye and soul work together.
Therein is the making of art.
So somedays I remember and my eyes frame my basket of mismatched socks, my soul frames the legos that breed like rabbits. Somedays I remember that in the working out of a one-piece life, this weaving of my life, a cloth of seamless avodah, the whole of life becomes beauty.
Parts of a life can't be cut up or amputated in the framing. When you frame a life as art, frame the whole of it. Really, all lives are art when rightly seen.
All lives become masterful still lifes when we still to see the moments as beauty.
Artists once only deemed the noble, the laces and velvets, the grand, worthy of luscious paint strokes. It was radically revolutionary to lay down rich colors for a bowl fruit, a woman pouring out milk. But the masters discovered that the essence of art isn't subject-matter. (Frame the legos! the dust bunnies!) Subject-matter is secondary to seeing all matter with fresh eyes, seeing and feeling in this moment.
Life becomes art when we attend to the colors of now.
So, you too, my exuberant writing friend, pick up your moments. They're all frameable!
Life only paints exquisite brushstrokes."
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