This was based off a piece of literature (a Maxum) that my father wrote. An Image inspired by my Fathers piece "Party of Ten"

I have a slight visualization of why he called it "Party of Ten". My uncle played this game with us called Party of ten in which we had to pick out any 10 people we';d want to invite to this imaginary party. It was really just one of the real deep, feely touchy things my family does every once in a whil;e. Its really quite a DEEP game.





MAXUM AND THE DOG

The pen can move as slow as a ghost in the night trying
To manipulate an unsuspecting subject only to
Find itself falling prey to the seduction of its
Victim.
.

PARTY OF TEN

In my youth, walking through the alley was my minds meditation and comfort. Its contrast, a double edge sword that being the seedy visual of money changing hands in late hours and low lights or something very beautiful that unfolds itself only to optimism but remains latent to skepticism and prejudice.

One day while walking through my dingy dark lover over its stank steaming quagmires striding to the rhythm of broken glass under my always dragging feet I came to a corner between two buildings. Its broken mix of concrete and asphalt where years ago someone had tried to repair the cracks which only conjured images of what one might call the epitome of modern ghetto art. Like any alley corner it held artifacts of its antiquity, rusty cans, Broken bottles, an old potato chip bag, a used condom hanging from a concrete spike driven in to the side of one of the buildings. Below the spike a collection of syringes used for a non diabetic purpose. Yes its souvenirs and props whisper its legacy on the wind that brought these truffles to their final resting place.

Walking down the breezeway admiring this dismal museum of human decline I saw a bright yellow object. The closer I came to it, the more its form and dimensions changed.
Now it was that of a glowing sphere. Something fresh and natural removed and alone from its decayed surroundings. And now its perpendicular petals , but not of the grotesque. Through the moldy crack of concrete in its darkened domain a flower. Its presence seemed to cast a light down the breezeway as though someone had pointed a flashlight down its dark corridor. Standing beside this beautiful specimen at a backward glance I noticed that the flower complimented its surroundings. A single flower had overpowered this dark motif to submit to a metamorphous of beauty, love and light. As I stood looking down this new hall, I thought to myself, maybe you can weave straw into gold. For in that alley, I had seen alchemy have its finest hour.



Supplement to Maxum. and The Dog

Vanity can sometimes altar our perceptions of things
And people than you miss all that is good and
Loving.




Maxum. and the Dog (c) S. VanHorn
Literature (c) S. VanHorn (my dad)
Image (c) to Stephanie (Coyox) lawrason

3 hours photoshop

My first time with a figureless still life.