‘What we call the personality is often a jumble of genuine traits and adopted coping styles that do not reflect our true self at all but the loss of it.’ -Gabor Maté
I found it on a beautiful, sunny day. I found it after great loss: Fresh verdant soil, wet and flourishing. -Fadwa Tuqan
Dark visions and sweet illuminations. The myth of permanence and the sweetness of presence. An interplay between forever and never. But always now is the hightend sensuality and the numbing dullness. Forgetfulness of all that was ever yearned for. R
From the old series IN THE MIDDLE. In the middle of the cauldron I dwell. There I slowly simmer. Like a bundle of papers, rust, and Hibiscus tightly wrapped in twine. Just below the scorching point. Safe enough to keep me dreaming. To soak one da
New to read and listen to on Substack this morning. Loose Skins and Tight Grips Vintage botanical prints.
“Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire.” -Patti Smith
I am less concerned with Beauty itself. More, with the remembrance of it. In me. In others. In what I make. Bold recognitions. Sweet and aching evolutions. I busy myself with aliveness. With calling my senses forth. With getting closer. Not fart
Drawing by Egon Schiele and a photo of sweet Shinji. Preparing for wintering, ‘olding’… Inviting in the pending and inevitable hibernation. The big rest. Familiar comforts of veiling, of cold, and of smoldering too.
The giant sculpture he built and installed in my garden by the creek. My brother @yoramavineri with his magical hands, from his giant heart. 🙏🏻🫶🏻🙏🏻
Amor The kins and the skins. The pleading and the bleeding. Moored. Wanting less, then more. Less, then more. Then, more.
It’s National Day of Mourning. No celebrations. No pride in histories of genocide of indigenous people across this land or any other land. Never forgetfulness of stolen lands and brutally taken dignity of humans, their spirits, lives, and th
Thanksgiving is a daily affair, and certainly, the effort is. Thankful today for all the purposeful wanderings, the earthy and the obscure places in which we get to have our ‘meetings’. Enjoy a beautiful day. And until we meet, some
“I have faith in longing, wherever it finds me. And often it finds me at unpredictable and inconvenient moments. It’s like a door that suddenly opens. I am never prepared. There is no preparation for the way it takes me and leaves me, for
“I call for you cultivation of strength in the dark.
Dark gardening
in the vertigo cold.
in the hot paralysis.
Under the wolves and coyotes of particular silences.
Where it is dry.
Where it is dry.
I call for you
cultivation of victory Over
lon
Sore throat. Since last week, after people leaving this pulsating space. Fire in the root of the tongue. One tonsil subdued, muted, shrunken, the other enlarged, high spirited, ripe for the great swelling. But nothing new about all that. Everything
I’ve noticed that Blues made a rare appearance on my table recently. Blues that beckon, but not the soft ones, not the kind seen through clouds. “The blues is an art of ambiguity, an assertion of the irrepressibly human over all circums
New openings available! @alexcastroferreira7770 And via bio
I’ve always believed it is good and possible to live in weighty realities while living from within fantastical dreams. In fact, it is a dream onto itself.
Last week I taught my last workshop of 2025. *Subscribe* to my newsletter through orlyavineri.com (or via bio) to receive information about my upcoming workshops and retreats in 2026. Registration is open for ‘Minimalism in Mixed Media&rsqu