Easter is a time when music, and art tends to be prevalent. We use these creative endeavors to express our beliefs and explore beliefs foreign to us.
This short trio explores the relation between spring, family, and belief in a quick two minute meditation.
I hope you enjoy.
Poetry is an artform; a moving living thing that shifts and shows a different perspective to us depending on where in our lives we are brooding.
This new poetry collection questions relationships, sociability, and general people dynamics.
This collection of short, relationship based musings dig into feeling that surface during time spent with people and time take away from others.
I am very excited for this project and hope you enjoy this selection from this amazing collection.
by: Timothy Arliss O’Brien
We can totally sit in this dark bar all night, wearing our black leather jackets.
We could start our own gang.
“Don’t give me any sass!”
We will say, as people will shutter when we blow into the saloon.
Don’t second guess your loyalties, it could kill you. Or worse, us.
We formed the gang and rode off into the sunset.
Never looked back. And we raided every watering hole and tavern as far as our eyes could see!
Sometimes we had group hugs to strengthen bonds and character.
Poetry is a delicate medium to work. As I approach the ability to self-publish an anthology of my personal poetry, the question begs to be asked: What is so difficult and rewarding about words.
One aspect of poetry that seems to constantly peak my interests is word associations. I enjoy manipulating subject matter to confuse or estrange the reader from the original topics.
Here is a poem that will be published in my Anthology in 2016.
When your friend group isn’t a Forbes 500 company or a 501c3.
By Timothy Arliss O’Brien.
My friend just quit his job.
He also quit taking antidepressants a couple days before.
“We wish you well and hope the best for you.” I told him.
What if my group of friends had a Board of Directors,
And we had meetings,
And the finance committee fought with the trustees committee.
Janet would get her feelings hurt and throw a lamp across the room.
Someone would declare
“Well that was alarming.”
And Janet would say,
“Time for me to fire up my resume!”
To which I should respond,
“Is that a declaration of your resignation?”
But all I choke out is,
“Ok. Sure. Bye. I’ll miss you. We will…” As I gesture to the others.
Friendships aren’t that diplomatic.
And a shitty resume with me as a reference won’t help Janet find new friends.
Profitable, Moving Contempletive. Are they in love? Is she happy? Even the most tumultuous relationships seeth and modulate. Does he understand her? Will her worry fix things?
Movement and perception are vital towards marriage.
Can he protect her? Even from herself?
Comprised of 40 indevidual poems all woven together with a common story arc, we see a marriage struggle, deviate, and cling.
This was a fantastic piece to work on and I feel completely blessed to have such an opportunity to release this into the world.
It is beautiful during spring and summer when flowers are always blooming, and we can go to the store to purchase a boquet to brighten up the house.
But what is one to do during the cold, dark, dreary months when the only life to be found is in one’s own visible breath in the cold winter air?
This project has sparked upon me to paint the boquets that stir my heart year round, as the flowers wither and fade, their image and interpreted colors last and remind us of what a beautiful moment had possessed us.
This is a beautiful boquet of yellow roses I had encountered on a walk to dinner with friends, in the quaint Hawthorn neighborhoood, here in Portland.
They remind me of a yellow rose bush I purchased for my mother for Mothers Day when I was in High School, and though my parents have sold my childhood home and the rose bush belongs to someone else, this mothers day painting is a constant reminder of the beauty art can carry on throughout the years.
This beautiful boquet was given to me by a customer at work, and sat on my bedside table throughout a weekend in the middle of July.
It smelled beautiful and I could not keep myself from taking pictures of it. I decided as it started to whither that I needed to paint it as a rememberance of the gift of beauty I recieved, and then I gifted the painting to my loyal customer who gave me the wonderful boquet.
While painting still life is challenging, it is constantly rewarding and a huge necessity in our lives.
Percussion is such a wide spread instrumentation within itself that has so many opportunities and quirks.
I wanted to showcase the haunting aspects of melody that can be promoted by the assorted pitched instruments within percussion music.
This song has been very close to me and is one I loving have revisited to rearrange for more accessible instrumentations.
I hope you enjoy and can appreciate the haunting sounds of the percussion.
The organ has always been one of my favorite devices of music.
I remember growing up in the methodist church feeling enthralled, encapsulated, and overwhelmed by the sound.
I let this musical powerhouse set the stage for how I learned orchestration, harmony and melody.
As I play with melodies and harmonies on the organ, there is a sense of wanting to over-emotionalize, while at the same time show that withheld power can sometimes be more impending than dissonance blasting in ones face.
Let this track be a sound study in dissonance and thought. Maybe even let stream of conscienceless loose and place yourself, squeezed in between the notes; fighting for air and room, up to the very last chord.
Listen and enjoy,