digital painting by Tomas Karkalas ~Klaipeda, Lithuania
turns the tree image to the question
what’s amidst the trees?
The words sacrificed their original meaning to grip people‘s attention with the metaphors. The photography watched the changes and did likewise, the common pictures turn to the abstract art and dream about us.
Though I was robbed of my blogspot blogs, yet you still can see my artworks on wordpress. Arthiker didn’t touch bottom. You see my new picture above and might be interested to view the post Wither beautifully. Just click on above.
Am I out-of-date? See the visual aids to morality… Your feedbacks dry the tears and enable me to continue to welcome the life. Thank you for viewing my art.
Life experience discovers itself in a fall. The colors of the leaves are talking loudly by transforming into the ugly porridge on a street that doesn’t attract the passersby. The beauty disguises as the employer to the cleaners who are the feeders of the artists who are proud of signing this mess as the fine arts.
As I was taking the pictures, the wedding party went in my town. While I examined the objects underfoot, the bridegroom carried his bride over the bridge in his hands. Now my photo enables me to relive that anew. The Arts wake up our memories, and we rejoice over the reading of the personal experiences in the pictures at a showroom , yet even the best paintings fail to substitute the choices we made for a better picks.
Colors always attract us, allure to follow their stories. So I became the eyewitness of the challenging picture above. The stick underfoot caught my eye, yet what should my reaction be? Should I enjoy the view, or pick up the derelict to throw it to the dustbin in order the garden could please the eye of each?
While dealing with the eternities the light met the changing morality…
As I started to paint, the heart on the easel was my only goal and the main value of the artistic canvas. Unfortunately the modern world understands just market language. Thus my schooling is suitable only to …the mental hospitals.
As I look at the photo I enjoy not my digital painting but the memories that comfort the heart by offering to look at my zero bank account as a test of my fitness to forthcoming dawn.
As I take my camera (or the paintbrush), just magical transformation takes place. What looked as and ordinary landscape puts me into an awe now. Yet there are no mystery. Each of us know well, space is full with sounds, yet we need the headphones to listen to the cosmos for to see the entrance to fairyland.
my pictures help me to locate my place in the daily hustle. The eternal truths interpret my eyesight and thus transform what’s at hand into the trusty road-stick. That’s the whisper of the air. Please read the full story here…
The sunbeam was my riding horse, so we have experienced a lot: while viewing the puddles, we rejoiced over the reflections of the heaven underfoot. The photo on above belongs to my storage stories. I see them as my teachers (such as: Dont be sad blog , Help Others and many-many more) thus the picture shares the light. This memory heals (makes the past into the present time that defines tomorrow) transform my complaints for the current hardships into the greetings of my artwork.
The flowers wither in my vase, yet I enjoy the picture. Though this image looks sorrowfully now, yet the colors comfort me, because Google will raise up the page rank of my blog soon… It is better to smile than complain, isn’t it? Therefore I made the irony my paintbrush, and thus all shadows became my self-portraits. For example, look there… or there…