Art of Daniel James Brophy - Recently Updated Pageshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/pageSearch/updatedRecently Updated Pages on http://artofdjb.wetpaint.comen-usinfo@wetpaint.comSat, 07 Jun 2008 17:57:24 CDTSat, 07 Jun 2008 17:57:24 CDTwetpaint.com60Art of Daniel James Brophyhttp://image.wetpaint.com/image/1/OVTf-Rzj4GWkCIwL_YY3ew215623http://artofdjb.wetpaint.comArt, paintings, drawings and writings of Daniel James BrophyThe Attic Studio Workshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/The+Attic+Studio+WorksStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/The+Attic+Studio+WorksSat, 07 Jun 2008 17:57:24 CDT




]]>Paintingshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/PaintingsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/PaintingsSat, 07 Jun 2008 17:55:51 CDT





]]>Homehttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/HomeStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/HomeSat, 07 Jun 2008 17:19:06 CDTCollapse to your knees in the streets of your soul and what do you find? I will tell you what I find. I see a man walking, a man in rags, ripped Leviticus jeans, wandering without a wallet.

]]>Drawingshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/DrawingsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/DrawingsWed, 28 May 2008 19:50:40 CDT Drawings - the root of all things...
(Vincent Van Gogh)












This is Richard Paul Balandis. Richard always wears a hat, a Captain hat. The town has sort of nicknamed Richard "Captain". I made a drawing of him as he told me of himself and his life. I used vinyl charcoal on a canvas, and will later paint over it. Looking out of the cafe shop like an "Edward Hopper" scene, "Why do you paint him? School Assignment?" I was asked. All I could say was, "Because it was something I had to do this night, yes, that is why, and he is my friend."






AL holds his daughter
for the first time
in 20 yrs...







]]>Art Guild, Rahway, NJhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Art+Guild%2C+Rahway%2C+NJStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Art+Guild%2C+Rahway%2C+NJSun, 17 Feb 2008 20:53:48 CST
The works of art below describe the condition of my mind and soul. Waiting for NJ transit trains can either be boring or entertaining. Sometimes it is boring if I'm freezing and too cold to draw. Other times its seems the entire city is at your table for you to indulge. My mind spins like a movie reel, people peddle by me on their Schwinn wheels, fingers tap numbers in laps, time lapse, perfume man the exotic prophet, puffs of hair and caught combs, apparitions of history overlapping everyday existence, for the sake of metaphor or your own sanity and understanding, of the world, of your city, of your people, all people. The discarded things picked up as relics. The street to the viewer.















]]>Riot Photoshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Riot+PhotosStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Riot+PhotosMon, 17 Sep 2007 07:15:33 CDT
]]>Riot, NYChttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Riot%2C+NYCStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Riot%2C+NYCMon, 17 Sep 2007 07:14:08 CDT













]]>Newhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/NewStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/NewSat, 15 Sep 2007 07:59:36 CDT






]]>Videohttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/VideoStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/VideoSat, 15 Sep 2007 07:55:55 CDTThis section will be updated soon.



]]>Materialshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/MaterialsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/MaterialsSat, 15 Sep 2007 07:53:58 CDT

]]>Meditationshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/MeditationsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/MeditationsSat, 15 Sep 2007 07:52:20 CDT

]]>Found Thingshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Found+ThingsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Found+ThingsSat, 15 Sep 2007 07:50:40 CDT

]]>Photographyhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/PhotographyStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/PhotographySat, 15 Sep 2007 07:48:01 CDT


This section will be updated soon...



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]]>Current Projectshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Current+ProjectsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Current+ProjectsSat, 15 Sep 2007 07:20:57 CDTWhen one steps onto a NJ transit train they see a map of the rail lines, cities and stations. I am working on a project in my mind and soul to travel to each train station on the NJ transit map. I will draw the people sitting and waiting. I will record the words spoken and the unexpected emotional human explosions that happen. People are high and drunk as they wander the streets alone, like lost in some desert, thirsty for another liquor bottle. I believe it is up to the artist to knock into such a person and create a cistern of living water for them by drawing life out of them with their pencil, chalk, brush, or pen. I will become the wandering Hagar, the rebellious Jonah, hopefully to become Saul fallen from his horse. Sometimes I see the advertisements as demons or distractions. But even evil can be used for the selfless will of the Spirit. The spirit can flip anything on its head and restore the crippled life, can make a broken condom beautiful. This project is not only a project of draftsmanship. It will include painting, collage, video, and prose writing.







]]>Flame: Dan by DJBhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Flame%3A+Dan+by+DJBStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Flame%3A+Dan+by+DJBTue, 11 Sep 2007 21:58:22 CDT2007 Jul 31

My e-book is just published on Lulu ... It was written back in 2004/05....
Anyway, hope to publish more of my new ART and WRITINGS there soon
peace!
The Flame: A Story of an Artist in His Youth

ENJOY PREVIEW


See more of my art at my TIG pages and gallery
http://profiles.takingitglobal.org/Stridefull2

]]>Street Wanderingshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Street+WanderingsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Street+WanderingsTue, 11 Sep 2007 19:00:58 CDT

I walk up to you like the beggar. But I don't want your spare transit change. I am more interested in the emptiness of your pockets. I might be interested in the stranded items in your pockets, too, but not your sticky caramel nickels. By stranded items I mean, for example: a shopping receipt, your meds, your cigarettes, your love note, your potato chip crumbs, your lint, your poem napkin from the Galaxy diner. I walk up to you like a starving dog on the coarse beaches of Papua New Guinnea with my ribs showing wanting to lick your face as I listen to your sacred words in that moment, your secret mind and soul crossing a bridge into an artist's trust to imagine, to feel, your history. But I understand we can be like prisons, like pigeons puffing in the black niches of wet bridges. I understand we hide like potato bugs underneath garden stones. If the knowledge of eachother is not important then we remain doomed to impersonal knowledge (which isn't knowledge, just another fashion remark), doomed to the stagnant sound of ambulence sirens in the rain as the window wipers squeek left and right and the smell of gas enters your crusty nostrils and your head is turned away from me out the window looking at the streaks of rain on the glass and melting into the fog of your bad breath. Just another silent ride, if only you would hydroplane on the road maybe we would shout out a last minute scream for love.

Sometimes I won't walk up to you. I am in a period of solitude. In order to live in solitude for a time one needs to untangle their emotions, mount them and tame them to your voice and will. If not, solitude is a state of suffering. People are shielding subway advertisements, our moving bodies reflect in the glass cover, grafitti scribbles another dick and pussy joke on the digitally enhanced body of some celebrity or skin care model. So I just look, keeping my distance, in another trance and meditative state as I draw the many lines of your face. Many of the dropped items of the street- which is being decorated with housing projects and sexy graphic designs, but still extremely raw in that those who truely understand the street experience its reality, [its glass crunches under bare foot, its oily gravel, its lipstick smudged cigarette butts, its stranded bullets, its knife wounds, its gang grime, etc.], have no resources to contend with corporations, the bite of an untrained and unloved pipil) appear depressing collectively. But not always. When an integration happens with art, life is seen, the blind man's cloth comes off every day.


]]>Kean University NJ Galleryhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Kean+University+NJ+GalleryStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Kean+University+NJ+GallerySat, 28 Jul 2007 06:40:38 CDT

KEAN UNIVERSITY ART GALLERIES


The School of Visual and Performing Arts maintains four exhibition spaces; the Kean University Art Gallery in the CAS Building, the James Howe Gallery and the Student Gallery in the Vaughn-Eames Building, and the Nancy Dryfoos Gallery in the Library. Since the student body of Kean University is represented by 60 nationalities, it is central to our purpose to explore multi-ethnic identity through art.
Exhibitions that highlight cultural issues in the visual arts are given priority. These shows should be accessible to students, faculty and to residents of the surrounding communities thus expanding Kean University's presence as an important cultural resource.

Exhibitions at the Kean University Art Gallery include an academic component intended to investigate a specific area of research. Catalogs and brochures that coincide with these shows document the work of the Gallery and contribute to the body of knowledge featured in an exhibition.

Student Art Gallery

Located in Vaughn-Eames hall, the Student Art Gallery houses multiple exhibitions per semester featuring students in the Fine Arts program.


BRIDGE @ GALLERY (2006)

I was watching today, people passing by the bridge. It seemed that some people were afraid of it, afraid to look at it. Some indulged in it, or so it seemed. How to see the eye scan about it and within it? Artists, we are vulnerable creatures, with thin plastic films in front of us, slightly poked and pierced by any stranger or curious happening. Forever led into the realms and portals of others' interests and lives, mistakes and habits.

]]>Attic Studio Paintingshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Attic+Studio+PaintingsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/Attic+Studio+PaintingsFri, 27 Jul 2007 18:14:16 CDT

Many paintings stacked and behind other paintings, in corners, underneath tables, in windows and under carpets. There are also clothes, brushes and sketch books with thousands of drawings and sketches that I will wish to show. I want to be able to reveal to you the truth of a life and of lives around us. The life of literature, faces and places, gospel traces of mystery and chance, of love and romance, beauty, the "busy hour", fallen cell phones, flicking cigarettes and lovers on a bench, sniffing and stroking each other's hair. (2005)


I believe God finds his way into my studio at times. He visits me. He holds me. I kiss his feet. To tell you the truth, I sometimes think of my studio as a sanctuary, as a place of hiding and healing and at times, yes, horror and cries from hell. For most of the time I feel whole when I am resting, painting, reading or sketching in there. Sometimes I am distracted by areas left unpainted, stealing me away from my studies.(2005)


She Bleeds, she is stripped naked in the streets, like a baking worM looking for moist dirt, looking for the medicine man, her purse empty, the doctors sucked her dry of cash and coin, they spat on her, 'you untouchable, flee from me, you bug!', she crawls, she bawls, wails, screams, moans, cramps, the pain, the pain, the pain, the pain is insane, stepped on, bloody red sky, cigarette thrown on the ground with red lipstick on the tip, she was once that woman, wealthy with long cigarettes, puffing only once, and then throwing it on the ground, with lots of red lipstick, yes, she was once that woman, until she bled and she bled and she bled, "O Hem!", she screams, "I see You, I see You so close!" The earth shakes in the face, in the glory of Christ's face, it the trembles, it stops, time pauses, slows down, the woman and that mysterious man lock eyes. Love happens, miracle happens. (2005)
What happens to you when you look at this painting? Pink, orange, flesh of a woman? Who's muddy mixed foot is that she is pecking at with her lips? Mary MAgdalene? The woman who broke the alabaster jar and sank to JEsus' feet and kissed them and wiped them with her tears and dried them with her hair? She is naked, she has no secrets, she is a prostitute. What about those men in the background? I think they have seen her naked before when their wives were sleeping. They abused her. The position, is it pornographic? Does she kneel or crouch down, like a prostitute to a man's penis? It may seem like that to some, what is it that you think? It is the fooT, the foot of a maN who somehow shudders us, a man we utter on our tongues when we bang our own foot. (2005)



expulsion



al's face on the door



May 2006 - I've been filling my mind with aesthetics and philosophy. It has been opening many doors. To sift, to process, to understand, words. These words given form, given body. The feeling of bodies. The feeling of words... The bridge speaks all languages. It tilts. It spills. It has no home, just temporarily renting out this space.

]]>Scripturehttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/ScriptureStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/ScriptureThu, 26 Jul 2007 12:25:31 CDT The scripture has voice inside the art. The epic of the Bible unravels through image. The contemporary climate has voice inside the art. The graphic image appears flawless, feels like perfection, approved as beautiful (which is another word for sexy). Scripture exposes the nakedness of humanity, the imperfection of our minds and bodies. Contemporary culture worships what the homeless cannot have, what the poor just cannot touch. We are all about touching, physical reality is our master vending machine. I wonder if scripture has become something like a vending machine? Are we hungry for a spiritual snack? Job = A7 (the code for restoration of faith in an age of threat).
God flips the world on its head, flips reason on its face, and chooses Saul, a killer. Sarah a baby at 90. David a giant slayer. Mary a teenager in love.


]]>Illustrationshttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/IllustrationsStridefullhttp://artofdjb.wetpaint.com/page/IllustrationsWed, 18 Jul 2007 02:24:59 CDT




Permission to TMC, Belgrade, 2005



Homeless





Man on Bench (detail)






City






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