jeudi 30 décembre 2021

Abstract 2022 - The day after today


 We all hope good changes,

for our health and survival

and even some prosperity from time to time,

with different criteria, from our 21 century now.

 Dahlia pinnata 

The last day of 2021 with flowers, what else ?


 Spring flowers in winter,

a bouquet changing in appearance from a traditional oil on canvas.


Digital Painting is a new era for artists.


Few drops of water

and is a different world.

Changing a color and is a different atmosphere.



A Reverie


A reverie about far away landscapes.




We are all dreamers,

one day or another,

how wide the Universe is,

                 how far the closest star from the Sun,

               how many lives to became a good human.


31December 2021

 Under different circumstances we look different and even we are else.


 I wonder why the past is still haunting my memory.

Happy New Year to everybody ! 


mercredi 8 décembre 2021

My boat time

Our life is a travel in time and space,

time is different for one place or another,

from one person to the other,

from one planet to the other,

from one century to the other,

from one galaxy to the other,

from one empty space to the other ...


An old real clock in a shape of a boat,

a broken clock,

clay it broke,

a new life.

2022 soon !


We all have a heart and we are all very different.




 When I was pursuing the lights of Paris.

Haut les Coeurs

We live hard times but we are still alive.




 I am still in the color interest ;

just an old Pastel Picker for the souvenir or to use it eventually.


 This is original size, it may be useful one day.

mardi 10 août 2021

August, days with no souvenirs

Emptiness , the ocean , an Island ,

 forget about all , what is real and what is not?

vendredi 9 avril 2021

Souvenirs from Giverny

Few Years ago I was very often to Giverny, close to Paris , taking Photos,exploring the landscapes.

For few months I lived in Giverny and paint a little bit.

Here are an oil painting done in the Monet Garden, in 2003  ,more or less impressionist style.



Trois Jeunes Hommes le 4Avril 2021

 Un jour de Pâques

jeudi 8 avril 2021

April 9 , 2021 _Traditional oils & changes

An Imaginary Landscape


 Remembers me Greece of old times.





A Traditional painting , digital transformation this days. 

mercredi 24 mars 2021

Emily Dickinson : I am Nobody ! Who are You ?



I'm Nobody! Who are you?     by Emily Dickinson 


I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise - you know!

How dreary - to be - Somebody!
How public - like a Frog -
To tell one's name - the livelong June -
To an admiring Bog! 




Emily Dickinson : Success

I try to make illustrations for some poems of Emily Dickinson,

maybe the image can bring to the lecture and to some actuality of the digital painting,

this is a modest try and beginning ....

Success (in Wordle)

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.

                             by Emily Dickinson


Ilustration by Daniela Ionesco


lundi 19 octobre 2020

I dream about better times ;

remember about people that are somewhere else and still here

with me,

about friendship and confidence.  

Cesare Pavese ; Passion for Solitude


Passion for Solitude

I’m eating a little supper by the bright window.
The room’s already dark, the sky’s starting to turn.
Outside my door, the quiet roads lead,
after a short walk, to open fields.
I’m eating, watching the sky—who knows
how many women are eating now. My body is calm:
labor dulls all the senses, and dulls women too.

Outside, after supper, the stars will come out to touch
the wide plain of the earth. The stars are alive,
but not worth these cherries, which I’m eating alone.
I look at the sky, know that lights already are shining
among rust-red roofs, noises of people beneath them.
A gulp of my drink, and my body can taste the life
of plants and of rivers. It feels detached from things.
A small dose of silence suffices, and everything’s still,
in its true place, just like my body is still.

All things become islands before my senses,
which accept them as a matter of course: a murmur of silence.
All things in this darkness—I can know all of them,
just as I know that blood flows in my veins.
The plain is a great flowing of water through plants,
a supper of all things. Each plant, and each stone,
lives motionlessly. I hear my food feeding my veins
with each living thing that this plain provides.

The night doesn’t matter. The square patch of sky
whispers all the loud noises to me, and a small star
struggles in emptiness, far from all foods,
from all houses, alien. It isn’t enough for itself,
it needs too many companions. Here in the dark, alone,
my body is calm, it feels it’s in charge.

I am all alone   _some illustration done recently ; 

for our times and for future silence  ;  I would like to work further on that illustrations.

Somehow, we will survive anyway.