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Andreas Adrian
abstract
flowers
celebrities
countryside
elephants
elements
history
dogs
nude studies
cats
cosmos
landscapes
people
nature
horses
sculptures
sport
birds
sealife
wild europe
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"relative" means a member of our family.

But is it really person standing  near to us - or only comparativly near?

delivered to..

Biolandbetrieb
Georg Schmälzle
Mühlhofen


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At the latest since Einstein we know that the time is one of the variable elements.
The formula E=mxc2 is the basis of this work. In the collage a multiplicity from instants adds up to the eternity.

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The earth is female in the languages of cultures - as far as known to me.
As "mother earth" she gives life annually on the new to the plants of spring. Here she is just rising from her sleep in winter.
In my painting on the earth's surface humans are dancing. To embody mankind I have oriented myself at African cave designs of the San - sometimes known as the hunters of the Kalahari.
Sold, despised and in many places forgotten they are often condemned to a life at the edge of the society in southwest Africa. On the other hand pharmacy enterprises slaughter their knowledge for their purposes...
Beneath the earth - figuratively spoken - ancient characters represent synonyms of the cultures of the entire mankind...
 

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The idea for this picture comes from the title of a CD and song from Sting.
Soul cages - a picture, which speaks for the includingness of the soul. The reason for this inclosing can be various: real political conditions, family problems and tensions as well as fears up to mental illness of the individual.
In my work I turned around the relation from outside and inside; finally can "inclosing oneself" also be an attempt of protection - Kafka has taken up this problem again and again...
The boy child is locked in the fisherman's yard
There's a bloodless moon where the ocean died
A shoal of nightstars hang fire in the nets
And the chaos of cages where the crayfish lie

Where is the fisherman, where is the goat?
Where is the keeper in his carrion coat?
Eclipse on the moon when the dark bird flies
Where is the child with his father's eyes?

There are the soul cages
These are the soul cages

He's the king of the ninth world
The twisted son of the fog bells toll
In each and every lobster cage
A tortured human soul

These are the souls of broken factories
The subject slaves of the broken crown
The dead accounting of old guilty promises
These are the souls of the broken town

These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages

'I have a wager' the brave child spoke
The fisherman laughed, though disturbed at the joke
'You will drink what I drink but you must equal me
And if the drink leaves me standing,
A soul shall go free'

'I have here a cask of most magical wine
A vintage that blessed every ship in the line
It's wrung from the blood of the sailor's who died
Young white bodies adrift in the tide'

'And what's in it for me my pretty young thing?
Why should I whistle, when the caged bird sings?
If you lose a wager with the king of the sea
You'll spend the rest of forever in the cage with me'

These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages

A body lies open in the fisherman's yard
Like the side of a ship where the iceberg rips
One less soul in the soul cages
One last curse on the fisherman's lips

These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages
These are the soul cages

Swim to the light Swim to the light

He dreamed of the ship on the sea
It would carry his father and he
To a place they could never be found
To a place far away from this town
A Newcastle ship without coals
They would sail to the island of souls


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abgegeben
 

On the search for the cradle of humans all cultures have their creation stories. This is the history of a imginate tribe.

A shaman is telling it in the evening at the fireplace...
He throws some herbs on the fire, which burn hissing and smoking. The heavy smell of the burning spices is hanging like sweet fog over the area.

A boy waits patiently, while the old person is sorting pedantically the implements for incantation.

"A long time ago the turtle awoke from it's sleep. While sleeping it dreamed about the spirit of the trees, the stones, the water and the sun. In it's dream the most marvelous plants were blooming on it's back and birds singing fulfilled the air...."


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abgegeben
 

The president - inspecting the flood area by helicopter - called it a disaster. But humans ,standing om the building roofs, have had this idea before

... Nickolas Evans in "the horse whisperer"

The work hangs with approx.. 20 further works in the rooms of GNF Radolfzell...

Visit their site!


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abgegeben
 

Blowing soap bubbles is an age-old children's game in Germany. Ascending blisters glitter in the colors of the rainbow and carry the desires and dreams forward of the children up into the sky.

In this work the clouds are yellow and green reduced in color, while the child and the soap bubbles stand out dark-green as back light figures. The wire loop grows three-dimensional from the picture.

Oh how fast time slips away,
seems like you were holding me just yesterday.
As I remember the times gone by,
to me it's amazing how fast time can fly.

All the love you gave me as I grew,
could only have come from belonging to you.
From your tender lips came soft lullaby's,
to keep the baby tears from my eyes.

The times you kissed all the hurts away,
and always had soothing words to say.
Times you helped mend my broken heart,
when someone had thoughtlessly torn it apart.

Now though grown, your sweet face I remember,
to me you are still young as May, not December.
I just want to tell you how much I care,
how glad I am that you were always there.

So very much you still mean to me,
a picture in my heart I wish you could see.
The word "Mom" warms my heart today,
oh how fast time slips away.

I love you Mom.....

 


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In 1993 I bought a book in Australia. Written by a physican it told the real story of a man and a woman - Warri and Yathungka.
In their youth their tribes still knew, followed and respected the original lifestile of the Australian Aboriginals. The couple grew up in in the same tribe, the report is giving very gripping insights in the former lifestile of this independant people. Their paths were partly imagination - an imagination which was strong enough to give people a hold and a target. On their long ways through dry red lands and lost desserts there once had been so much life all around. Of course they had known all kind and sources of natural food, of old medicines, animal and botanical life - a knowledge of thousands of generations shifted over from the elders to the youth. But there was as well a sort of close relationship inside the tribe and to other folks they met on the way. News were spread from one coast of the fifth continent to the other.

Warri and Yathungka were teenagers then. Falling in love with each other was causing a big problem to them because their tribe only accepted a marriage with a spouse from outside maybe in a deeper knowledge to avoid inbreed. So there was only one way out...

They had to leave and make their own way alone just the two of them. The tribe had been refuge, protection and home for their people before since their arrival down under. Now the loss of this refuge had to be accepted wanting to make their life together.

After decades of enjoying seasons with the force of their youth they grew older and the draughts in the Australian summer turned more and more terrible. Meanwhile a lot of their folks had disappeared already, prefering a life in slums near the cities, abandoning the dreampaths and forgetting their history in favor of a new god:

alcohol.

For Warri and Yathungka surviving was threat by increasing weakness. The kangaroos were mostly shot or disappeared and the couple moved with their old dogs from one spot to another, humbling through the desserts in search of food and water. The extend of deprivation, the hunger and thurst they had to endure was enormous.

At lastthe physican who later wrote this report heard of the story and tried to find them.

In a very bad shape he could bring them at last in a camp and the improvement of their health was a joy at first for all who had been on their track .

For Yari and Yathunka however dreampaths could not be substituted with homes built of concrete, all their roots cut.

Soon afterwards they both died in the camp.

This is a story of a gripping and brave deed to help an old couple.
It is a story of a lost lifestile and from our point of view a lost paradise.
Was it really good to bring them out of their well known environment?

quotation Amazon.com:

An account of the search for, and rescue of, the last of the Aboriginal people still leading a traditional, nomadic life in the Gibson desert of Western Australia. Thus ended a lifestyle that stretched back for more than 30,000 years.

The story of Warri and Yatungka, the last of the Mandildjara people to remain in the Western Gibson Desert region of Western Australia.


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