Rolled up in book binding string I set Shakespeare tartar on iceberg and romaine. I wrote back, explaining what I thought had gone wrong, and after I edited the letter, making sure it said exactly what I wanted it to say, I read it over one last time, and hit “delete. But get this – The Dreamboat follows her out there, moves into the apartment next door, demands things go back the way they were. She’d moved to North Dakota. I did not yet know what it meant to draw a dozen Buddha heads. Only to be disappointed to discover he was rooted to the earth.
They thought they did everything he wanted, they celebrated him constantly. Antoine Artaud bodyslammed on the Metro. Cranes leaping and curious, a graceful body that gives scene to sprightly spring and shallow pools full of excitement, fun. Typical portfolios include several direct observational work i. He watched as animals fought one another for the food.
He thought he would never die. The sad wrinkled old man he never thought he would become? How did it turn out? An expanse stretching all around it with nothing but dirt and sticks and sand. You said —this tastes of the old world. Interruption Erynn Porter The volcano was not young by any means but was certain he was young. A singular entity in a lone plane of existence. They looked up to see dark rain coming down on them.
NHIA | BFA | Creative Writing Major
Every time I see any beautiful thing I whisper your name. He watched as they played and danced; how they hunted and gathered; how they built and destroyed; he watched the civilization grow before him. It is a wave slowly getting stronger, louder. Your head half smiling until turned — I can see your brain from the inside.
Between residencies, you will be assigned to a writnig mentor with focused expertise wirting a deep dive into your genre and to build on the insights made during the residency. The city kept him nestled in its slumbered palm while I stumbled cold-faced in my stuttering poorboy American dreams. Quiet enough for dust to hear.
Warmness in a fuzzy bathrobe after taking a nice bubble bath contains itself here. Dhargye’s paintings were commissions from monasteries and Buddhist institutions.
I make no move to lift them back up onto walls. What happens to a lifelong thangka painter when there is no more need for thangkas? Yet add another cellist. With more electives, a focus on professional practice, a broad education including liberal arts and sciences, and a partnership with UNH ManchesterNHIA provide artists, writers and designers the freedom to explore within and beyond their major, to think and make in innovative ways, and to be in tune with the professional demands of both current and future careers in art and design.
NHIA | Portfolio Requirements and Reviews
Our visiting writers series puts you up close and personal with top names in the field, and our proximity to Boston and the Seacoast region sets your study in creatibe heart of a thriving culture of readings, workshops and literary conferences. Undergraduate studies Creative Writing. The shrinking of Paris. As I stand underneath the cover of these crowded leaves, I watch from 63 inches above as the 9 spaces between my toes provide a gap for some blades to peak through.
All the ghost wants, however, is to be remembered, be known, for their actions to be reacted to.
What responsibility do I have to this tradition, this culture, these paintings? Distemper on cotton with bristles.
What is my obligation with the knowledge I have? They do their best to be known with what they know, even in their afterlife, but they never find themselves recognized.
One instrument plays the tempo, the other the chorus.
MFA in Writing
Last April I got an email. The painters did not speak English; these men studied the language of icons, of pigments and shades.
Nhiq create the cacophony, the one that others cherish, cry, grasp at yet catch only air. Only to be disappointed to discover he was rooted to the earth. We soon create landscapes out of the air, plucking away at the imaginations of all those around to send them to our world, the one we evoke from our instruments, like minor gods of the realm.