As part of Lost Dreams on Canvas, I painted this portrait of Ray Pantoja for Lisa Espinosa and her family. Ray, "RJ", is deeply loved and missed by his family and friends. Ray, also known as Hommie, was a talented young DJ. He loved his music, his daughter and his family. Ray would often ask, "Has anyone told you they loved you today?" Ray's life was tragically cut short by gun violence in Philadelphia.
Sharon Egan
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Friday, December 1, 2017
Dianne's Dish
"Dianne's Dish", oil on board, 8 x 8"
I heard a man say he sometimes feels there is a piece of glass between he and the world, sometimes between he and himself. He didn't say whether he felt the glass was a barrier or protective, thick or thin, strong or fragile.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Solace
"Solace", oil, 11 x 14"
Walking The Marshland by Stephen Dunn
It was no place for the faithless,
so I felt a little odd
walking the marshland with my daughters,
Canada geese all around and the blue
herons just standing there;
safe, and the abundance of swans.
The girls liked saying the words,
gosling,
egret, whooping crane, and they liked
when I agreed. The casinos were a few miles
to the east.
I liked saying craps and croupier
and sometimes I wanted to be lost
in those bright
windowless ruins. It was April,
the gnats and black flies
weren't out yet.
The mosquitoes hadn't risen
from their stagnant pools to trouble
paradise and to give us
the great right to complain.
I loved these girls. The world
beyond Brigantine
awaited their beauty and beauty
is what others want to own.
I'd keep that
to myself. The obvious
was so sufficient just then.
Sandpiper. Red-wing
Blackbird. "Yes," I said.
But already we were near the end.
Praise refuge,
I thought. Praise whatever you can.
so I felt a little odd
walking the marshland with my daughters,
Canada geese all around and the blue
herons just standing there;
safe, and the abundance of swans.
The girls liked saying the words,
gosling,
egret, whooping crane, and they liked
when I agreed. The casinos were a few miles
to the east.
I liked saying craps and croupier
and sometimes I wanted to be lost
in those bright
windowless ruins. It was April,
the gnats and black flies
weren't out yet.
The mosquitoes hadn't risen
from their stagnant pools to trouble
paradise and to give us
the great right to complain.
I loved these girls. The world
beyond Brigantine
awaited their beauty and beauty
is what others want to own.
I'd keep that
to myself. The obvious
was so sufficient just then.
Sandpiper. Red-wing
Blackbird. "Yes," I said.
But already we were near the end.
Praise refuge,
I thought. Praise whatever you can.
Monday, May 22, 2017
Fairmount Fury
"Fairmount Fury" Oil, 12 x 12"
A City Sunset
Across the roof-tops of the town
I saw the flaming sun go down;
For some, another day of tears
Lay buried in the hurrying years.
The shadows folded; here and there
A yellow light began to flare.
For some, another golden day
Of gladness sped upon its way.
- Charles Hanson Towne
Monday, March 6, 2017
19th and Wylie
"19th and Wylie", 3 1/4" x 4 1/2", oil pastel on 300# oil paper
What Kind of Times Are These
There's a place between two stands of trees where the
grass grows uphill
and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows
near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted
who disappeared into those shadows.
I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread,
but don't be fooled
this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but
here,
our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,
its own ways of making people disappear.
I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the
woods
meeting the unmarked strip of light—
ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:
I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it
disappear.
And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you
anything? Because you still listen, because in times like
these
to have you listen at all, it's necessary
to talk about trees.
(+ thank you Karen, Nicole and Elliott)
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Shallot and Red Anjou Pear
"Shallot and Red Anjou Pear", oil on Ampersand gessobord, 7 x 5"
Sold
“Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as
nothing can cure the senses but the soul.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Turnip is a Vegetable
"Turnip is a Vegetable", oil on Ampersand gessobord, 7 x 5"
Sold
Sold
Call any vegetable
Call it by name
Call one today
When you get off the train
Call any vegetable
And the chances are good
The vegetable
Will respond to you.
- Frank Zappa
Friday, January 20, 2017
Into the Soup
"Bum Soup", 5 x 7", oil on Ampersand Gessobord
Artsbridge Members Show, opening February 4, Prallsville Mill, Stockton, NJ
Click Here for Artsbridge Information
Sold
Artsbridge Members Show, opening February 4, Prallsville Mill, Stockton, NJ
Click Here for Artsbridge Information
Sold
"Bum Soup"
Bum Soup she said it was,
boiled potatoes in milky water,
chopped celery and egg,
oregano.
Salt and pepper.
Pin money saved
for Bingo,
bosomed, safe,
for after Mass where,
tissue on her head,
she would pray
for protection.
-Sharon Egan
for my grandmother, Francis Blandina Moroski Linetty
for my grandmother, Francis Blandina Moroski Linetty
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Purple Potatoes and Radicchio
"Purple Potatoes and Radicchio", 5 x 7", oil on Ampersand Gessobord
"One of the most marvelous things about poetry is
that it's useless. It's useless. 'What use is poetry?' People occasionally ask in the butcher shop, say. They
come up to me and they say 'What use is poetry?' And the answer is no use, but
it doesn't mean to say it's without value. It's without use, but it is
valuable. The first thing the dictators try to get rid of are the poets, and
the artists, and the novelists, and the playwrights. They burn their books.
They're terrified of what poetry can do."
- Michael Longley
“The Ice-Cream Man”
Rum and raisin, vanilla, butterscotch, walnut, peach:
You would rhyme off the flavours. That was before
They murdered the ice-cream man on the Lisburn Road
And you bought carnations to lay outside his shop.
I named for you all the wild flowers of the Burren
I had seen in one day: thyme, valerian, loosestrife,
Meadowsweet, tway blade, crowfoot, ling, angelica,
Herb robert, marjoram, cow parsley, sundew, vetch,
Mountain avens, wood sage, ragged robin, stitchwort,
Yarrow, lady's bedstraw, bindweed, bog pimpernel.
Listen to Krista
Tippett’s full interview with Michael Longley here, On Being.
Friday, January 6, 2017
Homage to Mr. Finney's Turnip
"Homage to Mr.Finney's Turnip", 5 x 7", oil on Ampersand Gessobord
Sold
Mr. Finney's Turnip
Mr. Finney had a turnip,
And it grew, and it grew,
And it grew behind the
barn,
And the turnip did no harm.
And it grew, and it grew,
Till it could grow no
taller;
Then Mr. Finney took it up
And put it in the cellar.
There it lay, there it lay,
Till it began to rot;
When his daughter Susie
washed it
And put it in the pot.
Then she boiled it and
boiled it,
As long as she was able;
Then his daughter Susie
took it
And put it on the table.
Mr. Finney and his wife
Both sat down to sup;
And they ate, and they ate,
Until they ate the turnip
up.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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