Thursday, October 24, 2013
Boulder Feild Trip Weekly Challenge
The Field trip to downtown Boulder was so fun, we went to a teashop, Boulder Museum of Contemparary Art and then to Pearl Street for lunch. The first photo is from the Russian style tea house and the second is Boulder Creek after the flooding.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Weekly Challenge
First weekly challenge in adobe illustrator. I guess it turned out ok, I wish I was able to use use brushes
Monday, October 14, 2013
Weekly Challenge 5
I really liked the project for the week, it was based on a poem and I decided to only use photoshop brushes.
The poem is On Raglan Road, by Patrick Kavanagh:
The poem is On Raglan Road, by Patrick Kavanagh:
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
And this is the work I did to portray it
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Breadth 2: Narrative
Story of a Child, Through the eyes of a kindergartner. I took the pictures from a kindergarten room I work in. all the pictures are taken from where they would sit, in their classroom. I feel like kindergarten is a new and exiting time where things are not always clear, and there is a lot to do.
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