~ Half Lions & Dried Roses ~ Bone-tired from healing alone. Scabrous old petals. Now all laid down on the barren ground. To rest.
Perhaps all journeys, collective or solo, are love stories. Beginning and never ending. Winding and risk-worthy. Photo by @horusboris
-Just the mouth. When a child is not properly cared for, and even silenced, she might become quite self absorbed. She becomes a so called ‘Artist’ of some sort. Every expression is either a dilution or an exaggeration of a raw and t
3 times. March. July. October. 3 states. Oregon. Washington. Arizona. Exploring minimalism in Mixed Media. This year for me is about less. Less unnecessary emotional fuss. Less harshness. Less noise. Less redundant thought forms and loops. Le
Pan de mi corazón- ‘Bread of my heart’ Image taken from the street in Oaxaca. *** Everything is waiting for you —David Whyte The great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cun
We are a nation that if not glorifies, then encourages, extreme avoidance and gross neglect of one another. We are meticulously arranged, as if on a child’s plate. Set next to one another in proximity. Yet making sure ‘we don’t to
New to read and listen to this morning on orlyavineri.substack.com What to Do with a Body? Thoughts following a photo session with my friend Diane D’Andrea @horusboris
An image transfer on tin, as taught by @leighannalight ***** And something else entirely: “Suppose a white man should come to me and say, “Joseph, I like your horses. I want to buy them.” I say to him, “No, my horses suit me
I have a sweet daughter who when we meet asks if she could take pictures of me, her eldering mama. I say, Okay, and smile inside my heart. Then I smile for her.
I am so excited about this new theme. Space is limited. Link in bio. orlyavineri.com Transferring Word + Image Introducing poetry to mixed-media April 16-19, 2026  Salem, Oregon Images and words meet in this 4-day workshop. I’ve always
You leave me breathless. Pale, soft, and muted. “…Whatever useless things these hands have done, let me see your beauty broken down…” -Leonard Cohen
My heart was wrung many times. Squeezed out of its generous juices. But still, love remains in tact. There is nothing else left in my bones. I have no ideas how to end madness, maddening grief, fear, or relentless sorrow. I have no money. Only love
February is almost upon us and my workshop here in my space in the Willamette Valley in Oregon is full, good and ready. And then right after, in March, these two are coming, also in Oregon. In Art & Soul Retreat, Portland. Still spaces there&hell
Today on Substack: Only Way Home A poem by friend Corinna Inmann @wyrd_corinnsz I came back from Oaxaca last weekend to our troubled place. With a full heart but also a tiredness, profound and nuanced. I thought: It would be so good to practice
“By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it.” I didn’t say that. Franz Kafka did.
Every day I desire to make things out of nothing. So I can feel myself live. Touch breath.
Kissing the ground walked on.. Little knees quivering right under a hem of a dress. A woman’s hand holding A flower, perhaps a Rose Letting the rest, fall. Going all in, then, all out. Out. Releasing. Clutching. Arriving here again and a
An old picture now reads: I offered the vast sky Not just any Mine But only a star was wanted A little twinkle.
I got back late last night. It was a very long traveling day, and my luggage didn’t arrive with me 🙃🙂 It went somewhere else instead ☺️ But this is about something else entirely, a reminiscence of years ago when I was enamored with Relief Pr