ELIZABETH SCOTT TYSON
Arethousa
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This collection presents a unique lens through which to view Elizabeth’s interior world and the spaciousness of her creative promptings by showcasing the multitextured richness of her verbal and visual imagery as well as her work’s characteristic flexibility of form. This debut volume will most assuredly open portals of discovery, understanding and empowerment for all who find resonance within its pages. Carole Brown Knuth, PhD Professor Emerita of English Buffalo State College
Elizabeth’s gift to walk with Nature and see all the magnificent offspring of the seasons is everywhere apparent throughout this volume. She captures her life in words to reach off the paper and hold our hearts and minds. Modigliani entered her spirit with the beautiful outcome of inspiring art. Stars fell on Elizabeth the day she was born. Margaret Britton Vaughn Poet Laureate of Tennessee
Elizabeth’s visual work is appealingly simplistic and dramatic. The ability to capture the essence of a face with minimal and confident lines is truly beautiful. A childhood spirit of innocence and fearlessness emanates through these pieces. Nuriya Bechtel Artist and Videographer
Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters Pain and Pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as determine what we shall do.� —Jeremy Bentham
Complimentary eBook Edition www.palmstone.com/portrayals
Descended from some of the same ancestors as Emily Dickinson and Georgia O’Keeffe, among the notables, Elizabeth embraces the tradition to write and paint, carefully saving her work with hopes of sharing them publicly some day.
SING TO THE WORLD It’s not too late — create
ELIZABETH SCOTT TYSON
Theolrosa@gmail.com Published by Palmstone Studio www.Palmstone.com Book Design: Stewart J. Thomas, Palmstone Studio and Mom Text prepared for print by Haley Freeman, Sophia Tyson, Jessica Hull Photography by Tamme De Mulder , Sophia Tyson, Binghamton Sun, Dad and Mom Used with permission from God is Red: A Native View of Religion, by Vine Deloria, Jr. © 2003, 3rd edition, Fulcrum Publishing, Inc., Golden, Colorado USA Used with permission from Leigh C. Eckmair, 15 March 2015 Frank C. Eckmair, artist, a pen and ink drawing on handmade paper. Gilbertsville, NY Photography used with permission “Waterfall” by Tamme DeMulder. Sister Trading Cards stretches across borders and continents to bring artists together. www.artist-trading-cards.ch/stc.html Golden Artist Colors, Inc. copyright © 2014 Elizabeth Scott Tyson copyright © 2014 Jessica Leigh Hull No images or text may be used for any purpose without permission from the authors or artists.
Dedicated to my daughter and cousins
Acknowledgments Sister Trading Cards
• Heidi Boyd, Canada • Kathy Dolge, USA • Ans Ruyters-Hoff, Netherlands • Deb Knicos, USA • Emily McBryan, Canada • Pat Orner, USA • Kristy Page, USA • Cat Schick, Canada • Oksana Stogova, Russia • Janice Theriault, USA • Sanna Thitz, Finland • Ann Marie Throckmorton, USA • Shelly Tracy, USA • Ainsley Skye Waters, USA • Wendy Webb, USA Thank you for your support by sending paintings that appear in this work.
Contributors Dan and Jamie White, Corey and Tara Judd, Kelley and Annie Judd, Steve and Polly Judd, Steve and Alicia Donaldson/MacArthur, Jason and Kris Hull, Jessica Hull and Gary Pisciotta, Jim and Susie Hull, Salli Tyson, Marcia and Bud DesRosier, Justin Thomas, Cassie Williams, Tania Vidal, Whitney Tyson, Nicole Vidal, Douglas MacArthur, Seth and Paulette MacArthur, Sharon MacArthur, Pat, Ty and Jean Tyson
Special Thanks To Maggi, Carole, Sophie, Jessie, Stewart, Beth, and Ty for their wisdom and support. With these bookmakers, a dream came true.
Milieu Prelude I NaivetĂŠ II Auras III Oeuvre
Author and Artist References Et Tu
Prelude The seeds were sown With wishes and hopes they grew Until a garden was fully grown and Theol Rosa’s dream came true. Vade mecum to experience Portrayals in paintings and poems to touch the human heart. Unveil a romance with fantasy, Spirituality and mythology in a Sojourn of discovery, accommodation, and community. Inspired by: Lewis Carroll Ann Rice Anais Ninn Henry Miller Lillian Too Stephen King
Amedeo Modigliani D.H. Lawrence Richard Adams Vine Deloria, Jr. J.R.R. Tolkein Virginia Woolf
Read between, look beyond, and imagine
painting by Annie Middleton, c. 1860
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“Art is a form of supremely delicate awareness…meaning at-oneness, the state of being at one with the object. … The picture must all come out of the artist’s inside…it is the image that lives in the consciousness, alive like a vision, but unknown.” — D.H. Lawrence
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Chapter I
Naiveté “When you wish upon a Star”
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“Twinkle, twinkle, little star . . . “
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suffer the children god save the king who would say such a horrible thing.
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“Your actual duty is that of saving your dream�
-- Modigliani
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Chapter II
Auras
“That which we elect to surround ourselves with becomes the museum of our soul and the archives of our experiences.” — Thomas Jefferson
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To my Gypsy Heart Cousin-Sister, who introduced me to the little people, may our adventures continue next time . . .
Spirit Flies Children of Sky’s Lane , where the sapphire bluets grow. Women of Little Buckhorn , where the enchanted cabin sits among the giant wood . The door opened with a swoosh and she began to laugh . Smoky swirls of mist spilling out into the cold air. She smelled of beeswax, toasted marshmallows and sage . Tingling sugar against my skin . A pure light enlivened . She was making wild orchid tea. Humming and swirling about like she had a secret. Her dress, rolling, streaming liquid . Revealing colors not known to Earth . We sat by the fire , sipping from seashell mugs. It tasted like spring. She turned to me , blue eyes like prisms. And we were running, down the path , through the wood . 16
Bounding like deer, flying like vampires. Free and filled to near bursting with the Breath of Spirit. Our hair draped with song bird feathers, tied by threads of Peruvian gold and Jasmine vine .
We slow to see the plants around us. They are twinkling with charm and delight. Our adoration for them reflected in their flowers, leaves, and tree trunks. Just before twilight we turn to the west. A large black bear appears, Ole’ Esmeralda Eyes. She escorts us to a stream, which flows into a mystical , sparkling, waterfall . Spellbound , we are motionless… A gathering of water sprites dance about in a rainbow, cast by the last drops of sunlight through the mist. A glorious, bewitching Undine named Ahnu governs their play. With a smile she motions us nearer. Soft as satin the wood nymphs suspend us in opalescent dewdrops. They transport us UP, UP, UP to the crest of the waterfall . The beat of their dance drums around us, whispering secret spells into our hearts… “Breath of the Universe Unbound , ONE With All .” Hands clasped we begin to soar, down the waterfall , up the stream, through the wood . Homeward bound . “My Spirit, Your Spirit…Spirit Flies.” -Jessie
“Friendship that flows from the heart cannot be frozen by adversity, as the water that flows from the spring cannot congeal in winter.� -- James Fenimore Cooper
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Chapter III
Oeuvre
“The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.� -- J. R. R. Tolkien
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Flutter flutter little butterfly The one inside A hidden angel: stretching her wings Waiting for that song she will sing
Journal 2 — 1995 Liz I create my art in two different ways—1st I just start out with lines, shapes, and colors with no plans—No thought. And I keep going until it becomes something. The second—I see it before I start and trace what I see (it’s a blank piece of paper, but I see the picture in my mind then on the paper)—Tracing the lines to get it.
“Somewhere over the Rainbow blue birds fly…”
love and life
little birds
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why can i not see you? i hear you sing your beautiful songs and looking to the trees i see the branches jump and fly beneath your tiny torrid feet the leaves moving all around you but you are still unseen your mythical medieval sounds are haunting echoes in my ears your lives so different from mine you are young and free to be and i am caged aged how very wonderful to be free.
life has just begun when the babe opens his eyes and sees the girl to which his destiny lies but if he is too cruel with his right hand rule the spirit of their love will die and far she is sure to fly.
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I moved to Upstate New York. The town I lived in as a child. My family was there, a good college wasn’t far away. My parents have a cabin on the edge of a beautiful little pond. At the end of the road is an enormous lake that possesses two qualities of immense greatness and peaceful tranquility. A twenty minute hike from the cabin is a quaint little waterfall whose bubbling streams and ice cold waters are purifying not only to the body and soul but also healing to the head and heart. This was the place I needed to be; a place where I could find myself. I loved my mountain paradise.
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photograph by Tamme De Mulder
myself i am free as a river i see the river flowing outward from the banks it twists and turns and longs and yurns i see myself standing listfully above the planks all i want to be is floating free free as a summer’s day free as a sliver floating on the river.
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Rhyme and Reason Poetry used to go te dum te dum te dum dum and everybody read it, “O my Luve is like a red, red rose” everybody said it. “She walks in beauty like the night” that’s what Lord Byron wrote “The time you won your town the race” made young athletes take note. “When I was one and twenty” made us realize when we’re twenty-one we’re really not that wise. Frost wrote about birches bending left and right and horses stopping by woods on snowy nights. Dickinson could not stop for death, that one still takes our breath. This poem has used all rhyme schemes and talked of death, beauty and dreams. Intellectuals may read these lines and say, “My God she’s behind times. ‘Listen my children and you shall hear’ went out with poets of yesteryear.” So poets began to write for the scholar’s ear and eye, they left the common man out and poetry began to die, but it could live again if we all could agree that you write for you and let me write for me. — Margaret Britton Vaughn Poet Laureate of Tennessee
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the anybody nobody poem
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anybody who’s anybody could be somebody if i were anybody instead of nobody then i would be a somebody someday and someday i might be loved by somebody who was a somebody and not a nobody anybody that everybody knew and if somebody loved me and everybody knew i would be a somebody someday too.
is it fate fly angels and sing to the world it’s not too late — create.
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D
rawing pictures in the sand staring at the ocean watching all the suntans walk by the seagulls fly quiet oceans moving in slow
motion motorcycles on the beach and the marlboro man the little hiss of the wind and sand deep clouds warm sun a cool breeze in soft white light
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Endangered DAYDREAMS sunset colored thoughts mirrored in your eyes subconscious deep lights in the greenhouse and stars in the garden see the fireworks over the lake? hear the wind in the valley? the turkeys up the hill the trainsacomin rabbits hoppin deep down indathe holler i hear the thundeer stampeidin see the towering steel? smoke filled beast? the trainsacomin ya’ll hear ‘er.
Moosic 4 musicians 4 men 3 variant stringed gods and the great drums they sound off guns he drops his stick shhh please pause wait hurry don’t be late faster beat it into my brain the music it makes me sane.
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why doesn’t it look any more fine this world of yours and mine what happened to pursuit of happiness and liberty why did it change on you and me what happened to our freedom why has it changed so why is it nobody knows does anyone care anymore what about the voice of the lord when we lay our heads to rest do we really care who’s the best when the day turns to night and the night turns to day when the sky is all cloudy and gray do we care who lives and dies do we care who survives do we care do you. Do You?
the empty chair it sits alone all by its self the empty chair not as much as one hair the cushions full and round quite high off the ground no one sits on this mighty throne that is why its so alone the chair why is it that no one is sitting there?
Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters Pain and Pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as determine what we shall do.� —Jeremy Bentham
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Rushmore Time is the greatest sculptor of all, Chiseling away the rock sediments To form the great art forms That decorate our nation. We override time in our desire To imitate the great artist. Someday we will look back at Rushmore And realize the importance Of not what we left But what we chipped away. Margaret Britton Vaughn Poet Laureate of Tennessee
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Canyon de Chelly
“Sacred Places are the foundation of all beliefs and practices because they represent the presence of the sacred in our lives. They properly inform us that we are not larger than nature and that we have responsibilities to the rest of the natural world that transcend our own personal desires and wishes. Ecology reflects the land ethic.� —Vine Deloria, Jr.
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“That out of our quarrel with others we make rhetoric, but out of our quarrel with ourselves, we make poetry!” —W.B. Yeats
A Quest sometimes i get sad sad and I am able to Cry and sometimes I think I am able to Die But tonite is as mystic as all the rest and tonite as the deep sadness may jest i have decided never to the underworld will I become an il-luminated im-permeated guest.
feeding on frenzied festivals of full blown lives listening to the lore of the lost full of faerie fire fearful of flightlessly falling lucid and longing for a languid love.
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"I have supposed a Human Being to be capable of various physical states, and varying degrees of consciousness, as follows: (a) the ordinary state, with no conscious of the presence of fairies; (b) the 'eerie' state, in which, while conscious of actual surroundings, he is also conscious of the presence of fairies; (c) a form of trance, in which, while unconscious of the actual surrounding, and apparently asleep, he (i.e., his immaterial essence) migrates to other scenes, in the actual world, or in Fairyland, and is conscious of the presence of Fairies." —Lewis Carroll
Full of prominent white light the golden glaciers grinning growing the mountains are green with envy trees popping projecting leaves promising youth animals protecting their young anticipating grim attitudes greatly attired in furs faieries following the wind floating on the luscious foliage falling from the l’arbe flying promisciously windlessly on the wings of warm transparent clouds full of prominent white light
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“Art Brut” and “Art Noir”
my day begins and my day ends my day has a middle a center a sphere it’s a circle a never ending circle dusk dawn friends lovers adults children life death peace a circle with a beginning an end a beginning and an end that never ends because it begins again
The poet John Keats wrote that “understanding poetry requires that we must be willing to put ourselves in a special state of mind,” which Keats called “Negative Capability.” He describes this state as one in which a person “is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”
Chrystaline Colors in a Liquid Sky Can you see the air? Swim and squirm like germs in a laboratory that’s where the blue coats live they live in a white, padded world Blue sirens Red flashing in my head green earth gone brown I feel as though i’m going to drown Blue ocean gone green then red By a God that’s almost dead when the wind blows do you hear him crying to the moon Whaling about how the world went wrong when will we live again when will we love again I’m hoping a better day will dawn.
an empty page and a full one an empty page is empty until you think of something to write and then the page isn’t full either the page isn’t full until you write a whole lot and fill up all the empty and when all the empty is full the page is done you must put down your pen and stop writing never to finish what you’ve begun.
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Summer Storms Rain is falling the pavement sizzles the warmth of the water makes all the animals shake with joy flowers stretch and drink the streets are filled with rivers flowing they wash away all the dirt and grime from a week of busy city hustle and bustle cars and people wet and Water-Rain Flowers refreshed and the earth replenished the rain begins to cool the temperatures drop and the rivers slow then the sun shines and it begins to warm again
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pen and ink on handmade paper by Frank C. Eckmair
Prayer of Gratitude
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“Gratitude waits in unexpected places, Often in the darkened corners of the spirit, Hoping to be welcomed into a luminous presence Whose energy is a powerful, loving healer. It swirls and swells in the heart, Overflowing one’s whole being, Until a simple, genuine prayer of thanks Becomes a sacrament of peace and quiet joy.” Carole Brown Knuth
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Author: b. 1972 Elizabeth Scott Tyson
Paintbrush in hand, before she could walk, she used water and painted on brown paper bags. Her love of words and books led her to write her own stories before she was old enough to go to school. Documenting her life and the events of the world through her photographs, journals, drawings, paintings, and poems lifted her spirits. Carefully storing them away for decades – “left unsaid” until now, a selection of works make up this book.
The Name ‘Skytook’ — pseudonym chosen, like other painters and writers, gives anonymity; part of the ethos of the Omega Group workshop supervised by Roger Fry, in which artists (Carrington among them) worked in the medieval manner, leaving their labors unsigned, not seeking recognition and fame. All drawings, paintings, quotes and poetry not otherwise attributed are by Elizabeth.
References: Abbey Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Center, Colonial Williamsburg, VA Alexander, Eben, M.D. Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife. Schuster Paperback, NY. Arnason, H.H. History of Modern Art. Harry N. Abrams, Inc., New York. Bassham, Gregory and Bronson, Eric; Editors. The Lord of the Rings and Philosophy, One Book to Rule Them All. Open Court, Chicago and La Salle, Illinois. Churchill, Winston. Painting as a Pastime. Odham Press, Ernest Benn LTD, London. Delbanco, Nicolas. The Art of Youth. New Harvest, Houghton Mifflin, Harcourt, Boston. Deloria, Vine Jr. God is Red: A Native View of Religion, The classic work updated. Fulcrum Press, Golden, Colorado. Edwards, Betty. Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain: A Course in Enhancing Creativity and Artistic Confidence. J.R. Tarcher Inc., Los Angeles, CA. Ferrier, Jean-Louis and Yann Le Pichon. Art of the 20th Century, a Year to Year Chronicle of Painting, Architecture, and Sculpture. Chene-Hachette, Canale and C.S. P.A., Italy. Hughes, Robert. The Shock of the New: The Hundred Year History of Modern Art – Its Rise, Its Dazzling Achievement, Its Fall. Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., NY. Knuth, Carole Brown. When the Morning Breaks, Joy for the Journey. Bell Buckle Press, Bell Buckle, Tennessee. Meher Spiritual Center, Inc. 10200 North Kings Highway, Myrtle Beach, SC 29572 Piper, David. The Illustrated History of Art. Crescent Books, NY. Rawlings, Marjorie Kinnan. The Sojourner. Charles Scribner’s Sons, NY (Pg 312-313). Richmond, Robin. Frida Kahlo in Mexico Painter and Places. Pomegranate Artbooks, San Francisco, CA. Sams, Jamie and Carson, David. Medicine Cards: The Discovery of Power Through the Ways of Animals. Bear and Co., Santa Fe, New Mexico. Singer, Michael. The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself. New Harbinger Publications, Inc., Noetic Books, Institute of Noetic Sciences Books, Oakland, CA. Too, Lillian. The Buddha Book: Inspired Teachings of Lama Kynbje Zopa Kinpache. Element Books. West, Shearer. The Bulfinch Guide to Art. A Bulfinch Press Book, Little, Brown and Company, NY.
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Vaughn, Margaret Britton. Poet Laureate of Tennessee. The Light in the Kitchen Window. Iris Press, Bell Buckle, TN. Vaughn, Margaret Britton. Poet Laureate of Tennessee. The Other Sun of God. Bell Buckle Press, TN. Contact: Tyson, J. assistant to Theol Rosa 352-466-4982
photograph by Tamme DeMulder
Et Tu
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