Saturday, November 16, 2013

Curves and Inspiration

Each instrument, particularly unique or crafted-with-love instruments, inspire their own music when you pick them up and start to play. 

It has always been a gauge for me to know if a union is 'meant to be' - the spontaneous sounds that present in those first minutes or hours between me and the creature in my hands. 

In fact, there have been significant unplanned dollars spent when the calling is undeniable. Like the time I walked into the music store to buy guitar strings and walked out with those guitar strings, plus my beautiful nylon-string classical guitar... about two hours later. Two hours of drifting through melodies and resonances, oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Oh, I'd love to play the harp guitar seen in this photograph!  

Might need someone to tune it up for me, though...

HARP GUITAR - image with permission

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Various Ishes of an Oil Hibiscus

Carnevale Venezia-ish


interior design for funnel web spiders-ish

sea shells by the sea shore-ish

dreaming of a distracted gaze in black and white-ish

celebrating with champagne-ish

distracted gaze-ish

Images and text copyright 2013  Sarah Lorien

Monday, March 11, 2013

Saturday Evening

Saturday evening.  Rain over the ocean.

Image copyright 2013  -  Sarah Lorien

Friday, January 18, 2013

Talk About The Weather

I talk about the weather when -
1. the weather is worth talking about
2. I have something else to say but it's really not the right moment
3. I have no idea what you are talking about

Today was deliciously HOT. Record-breaking HOT. Unfortunately I missed most of it, locked away in freezing cold air conditioning.  But even at mid afternoon, when I finally made my escape, heat greeted me at the door, escorted me to my car, and promised there were still a few hours to enjoy.

This evening at dusk the wind picked up.  In fact it picked up quite a lot of things and threw them about the place. Fast. At the beach, rows of speeding sand particles gave visible form to gusts of otherwise unseeable currents.  Lovely, lovely, lovely. And literally breath-taking if you inhale the stuff so I don't recommend that.

In the sky, storm clouds gathered.  And in the storm clouds, a porthole appeared.  A vortex. A big, loud secret thing.  A vibrant, glowing existential tease.

And then it was gone.

Copyright Sarah Lorien 18th January 2013