Implications of Sunlight on a Shoot

The way back in is elusive some if not all the time.

When you walk in and out one does not think upon the implications of scarcity.

implications of time being elusive when trying to unlock the Earthen spirit.

Space is expanding everywhere floating in it we all are.

Avalon can be found in the subtleties of a flowers petals.

A not so ordinary exchange on an ordinary afternoon.

A mind sits down for tea, hears the thunder and finds it's heart again.

Illusion of Numinous Fear

Trying to breath. When the fear sets in it is like being caught in the claws of a mighty golden eagle.
How rare though to think upon fearing the thing that keeps one alive. Terrible to be caught in it's clutches, . . .
. . . for so long only to realize they are formed in one's own mind. Spaces between dreams, between lives, between incarnations, between planets. Spaces between notes are the same as between the past and future.
Twitching eyelid relentless. Forget to mention the moment's when one mind echoes so far alone it haunts the spaces in between his vessels.

Painting by Ed Tajchman - All That Tribal Jazz Man

This is my latest painting, it's called, "All That Tribal Jazz Man". I traveled a lot this past spring and summer of 2014. I had two different cross country adventures into the American South for the first time, even though I am in my late 30's and from the midwest. I worked with so many different artists, and this was amazing. You cannot ever diminish the impact of talking and sharing with other artists, especially ones working in your medium or close to it. I had this chance at a festival these past weeks and it changed my life. Some of us at this event determined that my art was like, "Aztec, tribal, jazz". After we talked about it soooo many people came right up to my work and spit out those words. Very awesome summer. Anyways. Here is the painting. It is for sale, I am asking $1,500.Email me with any questions.
"All That Tribal Jazz, Man" 40 x 30" acrylic on canvas. Ed Tajchman, © 2014.

Painting as a Meditation on the Self and the Universe

Why can making art be a challenge? For me specifically, making acrylic paintings I will try to explain a little bit why this is true. In some way or another you are always painting yourself. Even when I spent years painting in complete non-representational art with no conscious intention, aspects of myself always come through. If I do quick sketches, still-lifes, or planned compositions, aspects of the self always worm through. I find this to be true when I write prose as well, it is a therapeutic process on some levels. Even when you are not physically working on the piece it is often in your mind, even after finishing it. Leonardo said, "art is never finished, only abandoned". I am sure many artists of all kinds relate to these aspects of the creative process. That is why making paintings is more stressful then you think it is. Because you ARE always painting yourself whether you want to or not. It is like a mirror of yourself, an extended daily meditation of 6, 8 sometimes 12 hours or more. That is what makes art beautiful though, honest art is an expression of the soul, a mirror of it. That is what I try to instill into my artwork.

Raven At the River

I want you to use me up.
You found me wandering alone when I was small.
Gave me a vision of myself, I built the grandest halls.
Years ago on my knees I cried for you and I do so again today.
Let go all fears, in the water with my canoe; carried carefully up until now.
My arms the oars, my heart the vision, I feel the rays.
Down the river of light we navigate, through darkness and dawn.
The heart of the earth seen through the deepest soil as roots look deeper.
Lady of the water calls my heart I feel a fire burning within, stronger then a flame.
Hard to name it, whispering quietly in the morning when you wake.
Finds you when you are gasping for breath on the concrete floor.
Binds your heart as it falls in so many different pieces from your core.

-Ed Tajchman

From the Top as August Ensues

My father taught me to plant and smell flowers,
he taught me to count the different kinds of birds,
All his stories passed through my ears I heard his words,
And those words he played with us in games of
cross and board, teaching us his subtle craft of play
even ancient etymology.

For this I am grateful, maybe fits and moments of anger are forgotten.
Inside us all lives fire and grace and a combination therein.
The human inside of us knowing his roots and his future
held in divine's sight contemplation, fingertips together you feel
the beat.

Feet on the street blisters on the toes how many more
oars will I go through to get down these rapids.
I will find the golden valley with the morning light.
In fall's embrace I know I will feel the scent on my cheek
that will set me free, hold me up when I have given all.

-Ed Tajchman

Drawing and Poem: Trans formative Thought Man

Collapsing polarities keep reforming in the folds surrounding that event. Pounding in the brain, get the new thoughts down when they present. Perpetually caught in the moment just fading away. Staying fraught at the thought of staying slightly ahead , completely different then what was read last autumn. Still knowing that the summer is almost free, so say yes. Who will confess? No more obvious decrees revealing molded archetypes with thoughts ripe,  already before the person out of the inside understands. Eyelid twitches, remembering all the stitches sewn into the skin.

Explode onto the grass, spiders in-between the toes no one knows those peripheral notions waiting like potions inside your brain. Do not refrain there is no stain deep enough that it is not a layer of a prayer in a new way. Day to day through every night reveals no more moons as we drifted without a planet beneath us. But not us only me I realized after much too long. Maybe still some day a heart song. No more wrongs take me back to any place I could know. Only forward is every thing there is that I must go to. So many arms still waiting to receive my chest against them, my words exchanged between our brains, disdain waiting to be resolved inside each others hearts. Deliver unto us a rhythm of raucous laughter how many faces caught in a schism blend their tension like daggers barely piercing the heart. Every last minute of the new day falling away.
Drawing, "Transformative Thought Man" by Ed Tajchman © 2014.