Slow Down and Talk Loud

Slowing it down. Everything around.

Faster then You think you talk,
even forgotten the way to walk.

Paper hearts hold no keys to contentment.

Vapors dart, lost into the breeze.

How to know when and if to flow,
is no easy task for a grand deceiver;

Ultimate receiver, unending pure of heart

-Ed Tajchman

Restless Human Animal

I never want to go back home anymore.

The feeling of belonging somewhere

falls into the sky. The deepest blue of

midnight's hour interrupted by golden light behind moons.

Every place I am now I live to be there.

So cracked and broken it's beautiful, okay to stare.

The wind changed suddenly and I was ready.

To take off, always had been half sprung like a cat.

Pacing encasing every walking hour I want to be free.

The void inside the heart brings me closer to where

I see the reflection of eyes unseen.

Always ready to be heard, everyone with a pure singing heart.

Projecting forward we will meet and create a new start.

-Ed Tajchman

As Summer Closes A Wish Remembered

Why does it matter anyway? revolving again in any ends.
In all the ways it could or would ever be it is.
I will never receive love in the way I think I need to.
Only in the ways that grace becomes me does it expand.

Resounding in joy's unspoken shadow, the footsteps fall always unheard.
In every grand hallway a smile of how it went down in the summer, shines across my face.
Unlaced shoes, unconstrained hues, no more blues infused in every grind of the teeth, I know
how to

It shone full and brighter then any I had seen. A wish made on 7 generations in a place I had never been again. The landscape rolled like a bowl in a midnight blue, under golden glow of the moon.
The one sought since entering this strange place shines deepest in the heart that knows truth and faith both.
Seen in every waking memory.
Calls forward the effortless pull through causeways reaching home.
I give her gratitude.

-Ed Tajchman

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.