mysterious art porridge

life story

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.

You might also like my painting It’s me and my slippers


greetings from half-landing


half-landing by Tomas Karkalas

While the tales start with ‘once upon a time..’, this artwork inscribe  today,  depicts the current affairs (illustrates my story on a road to happiness)  So I see this digital painting as the explanatory image of Street Dreamers.  The picture reveals our emotions and comforts (showcase the current mud as the half-landing) and thus my eyes are shining despite neither I nor my friends have nothing to enjoy at a moment. The light dwells in outwardly sorrowful pictures, and so does  my eyes despite my uncertainty  of  either I could continue with my artworks tomorrow (the current expenses became higher my potency to pay for the artistic materials) , therefore … Nevertheless my eyes are shining, because I know well that my current being is only half-landing, but not the destination point.  As a saying goes, money will be of no value in the grave.  As I comprehend that, the truth   enables me to jump over the time – enables me to burn with the want to  send my best wishes to you from the wonderland where the beggars lack nothing and people don’t worry for their earnings, but rejoice over their being and share just the love one with other.  Greetings from half-landing!

street dreamers

street dreamers

street dreamers by Tomas Karkalas

I named this digital painting the street dreamers, yet “its me” was the original idea.  The cars run forward and the oil spotted the asphalt. The blot associated with the face that looked at the passersby. I just couldn’t not to recognize myself in that image. More I looked underfoot, better I saw just incredible depth in earlier just flat and dirty surface.  I caught the silent smile that was wandering in the image and sensed all my destiny brothers here. While being  diagnosed as the sick for life, we needed the daily care, yet  we rarely weep bitter tears, because we trust in God and His Holy Promise to  resurrect us one day.  Thus we are like the silent bearers of God’s love. That way the weeping becomes even hard to imagine because we gratefully knock  on the doors of the realm of the eternal values.  Our competence to talk comes not from us but the Light we see under the window of the hospital for the people with the psychiatric disorders. You may see these pictures on the Modus Vivendi blog. Just click the title above. You will enjoy the artworks of my friends there and thus will have a bit clearer  picture of me and my creativity

from my diary, or the navigation by stars

child for life

child for life

The life survey described me as child for life. I should feel myself proud of  such characteristic, yet it’s a bit confusing to see so oneself in the eyes of my own children.  They became grown up – are wise and competent to share their thoughts with the world- meanwhile I continue to ride  on a sunbeam…  Star lecturers talk about mind power and put their audience in awe at just magic visions on the world’s future. I like to muse too…look here.  It’s good indeed NOT to THINK  about oneself as the  jobless disabled who can’t support himself.  The complaints didn’t attract anybody, meanwhile the voiced gratitude  warms the heart of each. Thus I am playing with the metaphors and share my meditation in color with you. Fine arts enables me to stay as the grateful child for life.


power of response

It’s raining today. What can be better than that?! It means the mushroom will appear in the forests for my weekend could be the fruitful indeed. I will pick up the edible boletus and invite all my friends to test the delicious food … and it happened as I thought. Yet the table-talks were not the cheerful: I have reminded the websites of wise sayings. The arresting amount of famous quotes sits us back in awe- inspires and motivates to look around anew… current news rarely sparkle with wisdom. What does it mean? Are we blind and deaf? Why do our wise sayings become buried in our bookshelf?

It was no wonder I have questioned myself, what for do I blog? Does anybody need my musing?

It was hard even to imagine. The hard questions didn’t darken the view under my window, but have done otherwise. I have got the reply:

greendoe said…

Why do people blog? Who listens to the hellos? We do. Nurses do. Because we care , friends or enemies.

We do… Thank you, dear nurse. Your response have returned the taste to the edible boletus. Yours “we do” have freed the soul from the prison of quotation-marks.

pick up

The question “What do I do?” guards me from the boredom of doing nothing by presenting various thoughts. They all decorate the lonely being of the disabled for life, and thus the admiration comes in exchange for the mourning for the personal needlessness- helplessness to change anything in my world of the forced to live on charity.

Does it mean that “what do you do?” is the magic word?

I think all of you will agree that the sound of the abracadabra revives the far forgotten romanticism and fires our hearts with the desire to welcome a stranger. This the hearty “What do you do?” puts a spell on us…just have a look at “Modus Vivendi“. It will have nothing in common with the comprehension of the heavy walls of the hospital for the people with psychiatric disorders. Personally I have felt myself as if on the island of love and care for other in the turbulent ocean of the cruel fights for display for to be

Is the above not strange? I think that metamorphosis is worthy pondering deeper. If we named the abracadabra a key, it means there are the wall and the door. What are they?

By the way, what’s Modus Vivendi? Could you explain the meaning of that word?