Your home for everything artistic

First attempt at fan fiction

Hunger Games – Divergent Crossover Part 1

After the Quarter Quell, Katniss had no choice but to go into hiding. The Capitol was sure to punish her severely for destroying the dome that encased the battlefield. She had to help Peeta, if in fact he was still alive. But not without a strategy, which would take time.

Having remembered the words Mags had told her, she pressed on to what may be her only hope. Before she died in the games, Mags had seen something in Katniss. And when she did, she felt compelled to share a story few knew and even fewer ever dared to speak. Those who knew where among the oldest in Panem and had only heard the stories from relatives long since gone.

She told her that somewhere out in the remote areas of District 8, stands a region onto itself, separated from the rest of Panem in its isolation and the existence of which few knew about. This region was said to be called Chicago.

It was told that this Chicago was once part of Panem but the citizens began a civil war, battling among themselves. It became so much of a problem for the Capitol that they eventually decided to wash their hands of having any dealings with the area. They were left alone, to either govern, or more likely destroy, themselves and their land.

Could it be that this unknown land, if it even existed, was Katniss’ only refuge? She had to find out for sure.

So after a long journey Katniss found herself standing in a barren wasteland, nothing but tree stumps and dusty earth before her. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, she felt in her heart that she must be getting close.

Once she was discovered to be a Divergent, Tris became a refugee, running from the very people she once joined as a member of Dauntless as well as all of the other factions including the one of her birth.

At least once each day, even despite the warnings of her lone companion Four, Tris would make her way to the massive fences that surrounded the city. She’d wonder if she might rather face the unknown outside rather than continue to hide among the citizen of her city.

She kept in contact with Christina and a few Dauntless but was careful never to approach anyone she didn’t trust implicitly.

But it was today that all that would change.

Tris stood along the path of the rusted fence and peered out into the distance like she had done so many times before. But this time, something was different. For the first time, she thought she saw something no someone, in the distance. It was a small figure walking upright – human? Perhaps a young woman? Little did she know that in just hours, she would meet the only person she had ever seen beyond the fence, a girl named Katniss.

Clyde Jones

A while back, I wrote about a somewhat legendary folk artist.

His name is Clyde Jones and he resides in the small town of Bynum, North Carolina. In a recent visit to the area, I took some more cell phone snapshots of his eclectic home and the wooden critters that surround it.

I hope you enjoy these.

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Making candy into art

It never ceases to amaze me

that their are so many people out there with such unique artistic talents. Recently in my hometown of Pittsburgh, I can across a guy known as the “Candy Man.” His real name is Takafumi Ichiyanagi and he literary makes art out of candy. Below you’re see three examples.

Pegasus

 Pegasus

Humming bird

Humming Bird and Flower

Wolf

Wolf

 

 

Drawing caricatures

I’ve always admired people who can draw well

It is such as skill in that it is artistic, creative and involves serious attention to detail and patience. At a recent celebration in my area, local caricature and portrait artist Sam Thong spent several hours creating drawings for patrons of the Rivers Casino in Pittsburgh. In addition to having mine done, one of the other subjects was my father, and I shot some video of the process just for you.

  1. Caricatures & Portraits

Music can be such a powerful force

and when we think about it, sometimes we like to make comparisons between styles and eras. I do anyway. I would venture to guess  you do the same from time to time.

With that in mind, I was watching a concert on television the other day and it got me thinking about some of the elite guitarists over the years. So, just for fin, I thought I’d put together this brief list of some of who I consider the all time greats. Keep in mind these are in no particular order.

B.B. King

B.B._King_in_2009

Eric Clapton

1024px-Eric_Clapton_2

Carlos Santana

Santana_2010

Richie Sambora

640px-Richie_Sambora_at_the_2009_Tribeca_Film_Festival

Slash

1024px-Slash_live_in_Rome_by_Paride

Jimmy Hendrix

Jimi_Hendrix_1967

A while back, I posted a list of five songs with videos that can have the effect of making people feel happy. Well, here are two more for you to enjoy.

American Authors – “Best Day Of My Life”

Imaging Dragons – “On Top Of The World”

Ballad of Me

Guest post by Clara Littleton

 

I am a girl, pretty and fair.

I like to wear flowers in my hair.

I care and Share with all I meet.

I worry about all the people without enough to eat.

I am a woman and think with my heart,

by this is only a very ..very small part.

 

Some days…. many days….

When this is me….

I want to race cars, climb mountains and play baseball.

these are the days I dread….

when the words come that I don’t like,

I don’t like them at all.

 

Dyke, bitch, confused and not doing my part.

Now that I think back, not so much.

The names are here no matter the garb.

Tom boy, whore

Biker bitch, tease

My long dress, they think I cover for shame.

Too long or too short,

look at those clothes. She’s such as slut.

 

She must be selling something, I bet it’s free.

Tits too small, or too big. They bet they’re fake

They stop and stare.

Is it my clothes, maybe my hair?

I wonder why they are still standing there.

I turn away.

I want to fight back.

I want to scream,

but these same venomous words are all that is available to me.

To label me.

 

Not girl enough, too much a boy.

I dance with spiders and snakes.

Sometimes they assume it’s all a fake.

Is it because I am a girl?….

To the man crying out to be allowed to feel.

This all makes my head whorl.

From the men too, pride they steal.

 

Rare day they dare,

To ask me, to be fair?

What label may we address?

I’m always caught so unaware.

Bo, girl, femme, masculine,

modest, outrageous, too skinny, tooo fat,

I sometimes forget where I’m at.

 

Lost in what I might be called,

They ask again, wanting to know it all.

I sigh, the words don’t mean a damn.

Not to me, or these people who have set me free

from these labels, schemes and plots.

They ask again, what label do you want?

 

Finally, I look up, filled with dread.

I feel sad and mad and wish I’d fled.

I contemplate one moment,

the words still flying free.

If you want to label me…

I remind them of civility.

Label me please but with the label I want….

Stop playing this game,

for the label YOU want.

For everyone it’s simply the same.

I just want you to ask for my name.

About the poet:

Carla is an accomplished educator and art enthusiast who also owns and operates her own artistic services and jewelry business Archaeotype Designs.

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