Fractured Shards

Fractured Shards copyright

Photographic Art Pieces and Images.
© 2012 and 2013 Elisabeth Connelley & Purple Shoe Photography
To Inquire, email:elisa58t2sugarless@yahoo.com

A series of music and sound and thought filled images took me through the creating of Fractured Shards. I came upon the following video, recognizing it as the perfect accompaniment and an addition as a dancing partner to the thoughts behind the creation, after feeling that the piece was as far as it felt like going for the moment. I am grateful to the music’s creator and to the individual who felt moved to post it, that I might come upon it and to share in the experience of it.

**edit: The title of the music is “Home Wind”. This was the only version of it that I could locate, outside of a playlist…it is NOT sad music, at least I do not feel this way, nor was that my intent upon using the sound.

Spring Dressing

© 2013 Elisabeth Connelley & Purple Shoe Photography

Outside of My Window

Liquid A

Liquid B

Liquid C

Liquid D

Images are the property of Elisabeth Connelley and Purple Shoe Photography.

They are offered in limited numbered prints.

Please send inquiries to: elisa58t2sugarless@yahoo.com with Purple Shoe Photography in the subject line.

One Shoot Sunday and A Child–Purple Profundity: Poetry by Elisabeth Connelley

Good Morning! It’s One Shoot Sunday again! The following is quoted to attribute the photographer and the site that supports and encourages The Poetry Challenge of One Shoot Sunday.

‘Tis good to have choices… Fellow artist and One Shoot Sunday alumnus, James Rainsford understands that and has even suggested an excellent picture prompt challenge. So take your pick. Go on, James offers us five photos.

~Dustus

For more examples of James’ art see:
The Sanctum of Sanity
Poems from James’ new collection

A Child
I sit amongst the trees
the breeze
to take
my soul, I rest in unkempt grasses
cushioned among hills of moss
which grows, where
the sun cannot penetrate
the great ceiling of leaves.
The clover stretches endlessly
to one
lying minute
miniscule
yet a part of such a place.
The leaves quiver,
as boughs are waved
hoping to
catch a
glimpse of tiny angel’s eyes,
they peek shyly ’round the limbs
of one so aged and strong
gnarled trunks
holding
secrets known, before
such rancor
did we
the human race display
upon the dirty streets
and smells
rough chemicals
and poisons we disperse
shall please those of a soul
so fell
the mighty aged trunks
and leaning one by one…
Yet wait,
a tiny twinkle far away,
There,
a child, no more than three
flies dancing with the trees
Just in that moment
when,
the sun’s sharp rays come piercing down
through shadows in the wood
Childish laughter
Pelting,
out man’s noise
His arms outspread
and turning ’round
trees spin above his head
A child will free us all
one day
They shall dispel man’s dread.

–by Elisabeth Connelley