Art du Jour 90

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What do you think? Too wild? Would you want to live in this chaotic little city?

I don’t know whether or not this is finished yet. It’s one of the biggest canvases I’ve ever worked on so all that work makes me feel like I should be done.

And then I frown at it for a while trying to decide what’s missing.  But whatever is missing, there’s no room for it!  So I’m finished, right?

Anyway, letting it hang for a bit.  I used up a LOT of paper scraps creating my little village on crack.

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Snowy Evening

At the edge of the woods, at sunset.

At the edge of the woods, at sunset. (Photo credit: Jasmic)

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

By Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening (Photo credit: BOBXNC)