巓洋 TENYOH
  • Portfolio
    • TAKE ME TO YOUR MOON (2021 - present)
    • REFLECTIONS OF BEING (2019-2020)
    • REFLECTIONS OF BEING (2014-2018)
    • LITTLE BUDDHAS (2021-present)
    • LITTLE BUDDHAS (2017-2019)
    • SPIRIT OF RESILIENCE (2016-2017)
    • HEAR THE VOICE (2007-2014)
    • SIMPLE HAPPINESS (2006-2014)
    • SHADOWS & LIGHTS (1995-2007)
    • GLIMMER, WE SAW (1989-1992)
    • SUMI-E & DRAWING (1987-1989)
  • Art in Progress
  • My Thoughts
  • ABOUT
  • Etsy Store
  • 作品
    • 2006年 - 2014年
    • 1989年 - 2007年
  • Portfolio
    • TAKE ME TO YOUR MOON (2021 - present)
    • REFLECTIONS OF BEING (2019-2020)
    • REFLECTIONS OF BEING (2014-2018)
    • LITTLE BUDDHAS (2021-present)
    • LITTLE BUDDHAS (2017-2019)
    • SPIRIT OF RESILIENCE (2016-2017)
    • HEAR THE VOICE (2007-2014)
    • SIMPLE HAPPINESS (2006-2014)
    • SHADOWS & LIGHTS (1995-2007)
    • GLIMMER, WE SAW (1989-1992)
    • SUMI-E & DRAWING (1987-1989)
  • Art in Progress
  • My Thoughts
  • ABOUT
  • Etsy Store
  • 作品
    • 2006年 - 2014年
    • 1989年 - 2007年

Sculpture and Painting: WATERFALLS

6/4/2019

2 Comments

 
This is my first attempt to combine a painting with a sculpture. I intend to return to this piece after putting it aside for awhile. Meanwhile, could you please give me your honest feedback? Are the painting and the sculpture complimenting or fighting against each other? The painting looks too busy, or the figure, too dirty? Are the colors working? Any input is appreciated.
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Ceramic Sculpture: BEING

1/24/2019

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My first attempt to combine a painting with a sculpture is making progress. Her hands will hold an image of water, which I intend to make out of transparent hot glue or epoxy. She is certainly not a model beauty, but she has a healthy body and hopefully you see her inner fullfilment.
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Acrylic Painting: WATERFALL

1/7/2019

4 Comments

 
Picture
No, I am not giving up ceramic sculpting, but this is my first attempt to combine a painting with a sculpture. When the entire piece is completed, the elongated painting (left) will be diaplayed like the maquette (right lower corner). Definitely the influence of 3-D work is visible here, and I am happy with the texture (enlarged images). 
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My buried artworks still in good conditions

1/5/2014

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"Who would want to buy a painting like this?" a friend asked me when he saw my drawing (posted below). "It doesn't matter," I answered to him, "because I made this for myself." Surprisingly more than two decades later, a woman inquired me of this buried artwork. I had moved five times since the drawing was made, and I was worried it might not be sellable. Last week, during the holidays, I took a roll of my old drawings out of a storage room. "The Midwest's dry weathers were like my Santa," I said in smile. They have preserved the conditions of my drawings very well. 
disturbing art
#073 Still Trembles Recalling The Dream, 1991, pastel & watercolor on paper, 36x26", 91x66cm
Since the mother with AIDS showed me her sketch – a human figure stuck in a black narrow tube, the powerful image has continued to haunt my conscience, even long after her death.

One day I was awaken by a nightmare. It was as though her agony had come alive to torn my fresh away.

P.S.
The inquiry to purchase this drawing was a scam. The woman insisted to email me her credit card number, its expiration date and security code even though my current store on Etsy accepts all the major credit cards, personal checks, and money orders. I am not sure how she could have stolen money from me, but when I declined to receive her credit card information via email she stopped contacting me. This time I caught it before being tricked, but this experience taught me to be extremely careful when I deal with online sales.
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My Old Drawings - Freer Expressions

12/15/2013

2 Comments

 
I have decided to scan in my slides before my scanner gives out. It gave me an opportunity to see my drawings that I have done more than 20 years ago. I did not then give a damn about what people would say about my art. I was freer in my expressions. I feel I need to regain that.

20年以上前に描いた作品をスキャンしました。人の好みを問わず自由に表現していた自分を思い出し、その自由さを取り戻したいと思いました。
2 Comments

Portrait of An African American Life & AIDS 22 Years Ago

8/4/2013

0 Comments

 
Picture
This is a drawing I did in NYC in 1991.



“It’s in ma blood.”


“Be nothin’ to tell ya ‘bout ma childhood. Ah hated being a kid. Pa said HELL NO to me becomin’ artist. Ah wuz accepted in best art school, but Pa made me go to high school he chose. That was that! Ah dropped out of schoolin’, worked here n’ there, n’ got married. Pa destroyed ma dream. Ah hated Pa, n’ hated maself. Ah had the blues so bad it pushed me downhill....’till crashed to the bottom...endin’ up in jail.

“ ‘bout a year ago, somethin’ cracked in ma heart. Took a piece o’ paper n’ drew horse on it. Ma favorite animal. Ah liked it, n’ Ah drew another one n’ another. Even thought ‘bout goin’ back to school, but....

“God is fair, ah guess. He di’n’t want me to come out of the hell because of all what ah’ve done. Ah developed pneumonia, n’ doctor told me....ah have it.”

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Caring without Borders: What I Witnessed in Abkhazia

7/25/2013

1 Comment

 
In black long dress with no makeup and her white hair covered by a black scarf, Lamara told me she had stopped dressing up since her only son was killed in a war against Georgians 11 years prior. Bitterness toward the former enemy continued to kindle within her. However, at her clinic where she had been serving without payment, the nurse practitioner did not segregate Georgian repartriates from Abkhaz. Her home was always open for anyone to walk in for emergency care.

Lamara inspired me to create the following image and the story.
Picture


For Their Sons and Daughters

The young man waited eagerly for civil war to ignite. When it did at last, he jumped at the opportunity to fight for the freedom of his people. His mother knew she could not stop him. She could only pray - pray for his safe return. It did not matter to her which side would win, as long as her son came home.

“A bullet went through his heart. There was nothing we could do to save him.” The news penetrated her heart as if her life also had ended. Yet another dawn seeped into her room through the closed curtain. A tractor stopped at her door as usual to take her to the hospital where she worked. Along the road, she saw decaying corpses of enemy soldiers. At the hospital, crippled or wounded young men looked at her through their agony and despair. They all reminded her of her son - the waste of life, inevitable byproducts of war.

One evening the fighting came closer to her home. After the shooting had long ceased, she dared look outside. In the twilight, she saw the vague shadow of a fresh enemy corpse. Soon the darkness engulfed it, but the image remained vivid in her eyes. She cried for her son again.

At dawn her lone figure, illuminated only by candlelight, approached the corpse.


1 Comment

What I learned while serving as a hospice nurse in the poorest region in the US.

7/23/2013

0 Comments

 
I volunteered for a hospice in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, South Dakota in the late 1990s. The image originated from the priceless experience.
Picture











End and Beginning of Cycle


When death is near, loved ones, long dead, sometimes appear to escort the dying one. There may be a long, dark tunnel with bright light, calmness, and tranquility at the very end. It is beauty beyond description.

The phenomenon happens to some people regardless of religion, race, class, or age; no matter how spiritual or agnostic they have been; or how fulfilling or pitiful their lives have been.

Beauty and peace await us at the end of our journey. Through the brief experience of dying, isn’t the Creator showing us how nonjudgmentally He loves us?

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Hear the Voice of the Voiceless 2

12/29/2012

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figurative expressionism painting
He did not want to shame his family. That was the only reason he obeyed the draft order. When he joined veteran soldiers at a mass execution site for the first time, he was horror-stricken by his fellow countrymen’s bearing. They were snickering at the prisoners. Their eyes shone like tigers, as if thirsting for more blood. Suddenly, someone pushed him forward. Now he had to kill the enemy civilian in front of him. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. His arms and legs shook convulsively. The tigers’ eyes were ridiculing him. His stomach clenched and he vomited. The tigers’ laughter roared over him. Feeling faint and defeated, he aimed the rifle at the motionless victim, and pulled the trigger.

Killing got easier. He had  been transformed into a killing machine. At the bottom of his heart, he still detested merciless killing, but he became used to it and laughed at those who showed signs of cowardice. He said to himself, “This is war.”

In deep mountains, he was finally captured by a guerilla band. As the bearded men dragged him onto bloodstained soil, he showed them a photo of his children and pled for their mercy. Panic-stricken, he failed to see that his effort was in vain. Their eyes, too, were like those of tigers. Their hearts had long ceased to hear the cry of their captives.  

figurative expressionism sculpture

Japan at War by Theodore and Haruko Cook, Pearl Bucks' fictions, and NPR reports from Iraq inspired the above story of a man's transformation.

As the above image was not satisfactory, I sculpted the left. It does not portray the transformation that the man went through. I am contemplating how I can combine 2D and 3D images in order to make the composition talk the story to the viewers. 

The sculptures composed under the theme "Hear the Voice of the Voiceless" will be pitfired. If I am successful, smoke imprints should make the images more grotesque. The finished pieces will be placed on a blood-colored velvet.


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    About This Blog

    This page is an window for you to see my creative process. I would  like to encourage you to leave your comments here. What kind of thoughts did my art provoke you? What viewpoint do you agree/disagree to? Your feedback will feed my art going forward. Thank you.



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