2018
12.10
12.10
Archive copyright Dennis Mealor 2005
click on image to enlarge in HD
2018
12.01
12.01
Sometimes I think you can’t outdo something you did when just a kid.
Drawn at school (Grade 4, Albert State School, Maryborough, Q. Australia in 1962). Pastels on paper.
(click on image to enlarge in HD)
2018
11.22
11.22
In Praise of the Mature Nude (my recurring theme)
For me, this is what Life Photography is all about. I have always had an artistic preference for the more mature female model. I have attended life drawing for many years, and photographed naked ladies (and some men) for over a decade. In 2012 I won 1st Prize ($1,000) in a photography competition. The subject was a mature female nude. To me, they have it all over the younger ones. I don’t know, but it is something about their life experience, and a sort of sensual calm that comes through the lens. Or onto the canvas. And to me, Sophia has it in spades. Even when she is having a moment to reflect, in between shots. I love this pic.
please click on image to enlarge
2018
11.18
11.18
Was on my morning walk today and I came across this storm water drain at the roadside kerb, near Buderim (Q. Australia). Thanks to the deluge last night, the leaves and bark had formed into a framed collage.
(click on image to enlarge in HD)
2018
11.15
11.15
BUY THE SILTING HERE:
($5 Australian*)
(In Pdf Form to your device)
Click on “The Silting” at top of this page (in the menu) and follow the prompts to purchase this suspenseful, graphic horror story that will imprint on your nightmares for some time to come.
Here’s an excerpt of comments from Mark D. (Sunshine Coast, Q. Australia – sent this week via email contact on this Website/Art Blog.
2018
11.06
11.06
click on cartoon to enlarge in HD
2018
11.02
11.02
click on image to enlarge in HD
2018
10.18
10.18
“I WALK” By Dennis Mealor
I walk the road it was so long.
Could not believe the pavement song.
I looked ahead the street all treed,
I never knew the Walker’s Creed.
I pass by people walking on
They never look at where they’ve gone
The leafy lane, the rocks and stones
Are always waiting to be known.
I wonder why so many souls
Are gripped with grief and in the cold.
I wonder why they try and try
To lift their game, to lift it high.
We never know the feeble thoughts
That go inside each head and sorts
The chaff from treasure, the shite from shine.
I’ll never know what choice is mine.
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