The art gallery was full of live when they entered, people in ridiculous finery moving from piece to piece. She felt underdressed – not physically, on the outside she fit in, but as a person. She did not belong here.
i was in a gallery once. and to say the least it was an odd one. for, instead of paintings in this gallery, it was simply humans. and these humans were no piece of art. they were quite ugly in fact. but i realized that as a whole, they truly were one big piece of ugly art.
My life is like a gallery; with an assortment of memories in my head to look at when times get tough. You can look through and see all those small things that made that one day really special. Those small memories are what can get me through times like this, when all I want is to hide in the past.
The gallery was open but not well attended.
he was disheartened. How could he ever mae it as a working artist of he couldn’t entice visitors with free drinks and nibbles.
Amy was pissed off. She has worked herd providing great food for free with the promise of a big crowd to promote her new service.
a window. a viewing. artist showing. large grand room with visual creativity
pictures, portraits, hallways. colors. grand scale showings and sales in order to exhibit art or artists work
I always imagined that I’d meet the perfect guy in an art gallery. He’d have long brown hair and a black turtleneck sweater and he’d gaze seriously at a painting. I’d stand beside him and give it my best shot. We’d go for coffee and talk about art and life.
Ignore the peanut gallery! Imagine exactly the movie you’re wanting to sit down to. Dream exactly the dreams you want to nestle into. Pay little attention to whatever has been; it is a platform; a bouncing-off point. You are moving in the direction of everything you could ever want.
Friday night at the gallery, Bergamot station in California. Groove -out in black attire pretend to look at the art work while filling up on the free drinks. Poseur madness.
She strolled hand in hand with her lover scrutinizing his ski slope nose more than the artwork. Her doubts were like a trap door opening and shutting bringing forbidden thoughts into the corners of her mind.
The class were dismayed as they could not write at all regarding their experiences in galleries; but the teacher could. It was unfair! How come she had two attempts, but others had none. Not only that, but the ordinary, unsophisicated, uninteresting and lazy language of the teacher meant that the submitted work was also boring.
He walked into the gallery with awe and suspicion in his eyes. Walls lined with esoteric items, each more interesting than the last. Each one seemed to scream out for attention. The overwhelming stimulation was too much, and he fainted.
The gallery was full of interested students for the Monet exhibition was on. The lines were long, but the room was silent. It was rainy outside, but I was hungry. But, I forgot about all of that as I stood and looked at the painting in front of me.
Gallery. Gallery reminds me of Neopets. I used to be so dedicated to that site. But I grew up, I suppose. I miss it though. But, sometimes you just need to grow up…
The writing gallery is full. I can’t believe this many people have come to read my writings. Wow. I never thought. I might make it big some day. My name in lights and on the best sellers list.
in your presence the world of others goes out of business, and from the street of my stare now only one lamp need flare above the grand stairs of your gracious beauty of which i care to kiss every step.
this is the place where intelligent people go. and also the place where young artists show themselves. nice atmosphere, make you feel up-class. and you can meet some great people there too. not mainstram.
The gallery of paintings was awesome. I walked through very slow taken them all in. Wow, what a wonderful display of the original paintings from my favorite artist.
Paintings. That’s the last thing (now, wait, I meant first) I think of. Artistic things….abstract paintings. Sculptures. Something cool, something unique. I also think of Spence Shay from iCarly. I think of museums….I think of happiness and joy and France from Hetalia: Axis Powers I think of self expression. Peace. War. EVERYTHING. I think of anything a and everything that make s sense to the creator….and not everybody has to agree. And I also think of myself. That’s a gallery to me.
I open the gallery and it is all gone. Everything. The whole collection has dissapeared. All i can think is “where are all the birds?”. Where did they fly off to?
Art and wine and people in black dresses. old futs. know-it-alls have a showcase. cosmopolitan. achievement. happiness is always in the air only when you’re with someone special. I would hate to go to a gallery with someone who i didn’t like. I want to put on a wig and look like them, or rather strip down to a wig. I need inspiration.
I need to finish the painting. This will be my opportunity to be something great. I need to finish the painting this week. They need the painting by this week and if I don’t finish, no one will ever see what I can do.
Castiel looked around at the art, the countless pictures that were like stars–dead a million years ago, but the images still projected, still marveled at.
She walked in to the gallery slowly examining all the art work. Taking each piece in one at a time, heart and soul feeling overwhelmed. It had just dawned on her that all these pictures were hers. That the people that were there wanted to not only look at but also purchase and displays these things in their homes. All her life she was told that painting was just a hobby and now she finally got to show every one how wrong they really were.
Soon, a visit to New York will be paid. Where me and chosen boy can be artsy and go to the gayborhood and eat at hip vegan places and stare at galleries while saying mock thoughtful things.
The art gallery held his paintings. It was his first art show ever. The crowd was large and the enthusiasm even bigger. His paintings lined the walls of the gallery until the last one sold.
As I said goodbye today to my sweet friend I have so many wonderful treasures of our 18-years together, I will keep our love alive in a gallery in my heart, always open to be revisited and enjoyed. Love you Lucy cat.
surrounded by a gallery of small squares, each decorated with a different image, i question how long it will take in order for my work to be equally as appreciated.
models pretentious abstract expensive guards gift shops party soho hipsters blank walls drinks in plastic cups trying to be elevated in opinion snobs art
I just read a blurb about a guy, a writer, who was in an art gallery that had tapestries depicting Jesus and The Last Supper and a bunch of other scenes that the big guy went through before he got…ya know. Anyway, long story short, this writer had an incredible epiphany due to the fact that these pictures told a story, as if it was a form of a screenplay or a storyboard. I hope that, sooner or later, I can manufacture some form of art that elicits the same sort of reaction.
Gallery openings can be fun, but mostly they’re not. Take, for example, the one we went to last week. The music was turned down too low to actually enjoy, but too loud to actually converse. The photographs were inexplicable in that it was hard to say which of them might have been meant as jokes. Disconcerting. Next time I’ll skip it.
The art gallery was full of live when they entered, people in ridiculous finery moving from piece to piece. She felt underdressed – not physically, on the outside she fit in, but as a person. She did not belong here.
i was in a gallery once. and to say the least it was an odd one. for, instead of paintings in this gallery, it was simply humans. and these humans were no piece of art. they were quite ugly in fact. but i realized that as a whole, they truly were one big piece of ugly art.
My life is like a gallery; with an assortment of memories in my head to look at when times get tough. You can look through and see all those small things that made that one day really special. Those small memories are what can get me through times like this, when all I want is to hide in the past.
The gallery was open but not well attended.
he was disheartened. How could he ever mae it as a working artist of he couldn’t entice visitors with free drinks and nibbles.
Amy was pissed off. She has worked herd providing great food for free with the promise of a big crowd to promote her new service.
a window. a viewing. artist showing. large grand room with visual creativity
pictures, portraits, hallways. colors. grand scale showings and sales in order to exhibit art or artists work
I always imagined that I’d meet the perfect guy in an art gallery. He’d have long brown hair and a black turtleneck sweater and he’d gaze seriously at a painting. I’d stand beside him and give it my best shot. We’d go for coffee and talk about art and life.
a collection of art, or exhibits.
memories lined up on shelves
salary is virtues window, a whole lot of
forgiveness in tow.
Ignore the peanut gallery! Imagine exactly the movie you’re wanting to sit down to. Dream exactly the dreams you want to nestle into. Pay little attention to whatever has been; it is a platform; a bouncing-off point. You are moving in the direction of everything you could ever want.
Friday night at the gallery, Bergamot station in California. Groove -out in black attire pretend to look at the art work while filling up on the free drinks. Poseur madness.
She strolled hand in hand with her lover scrutinizing his ski slope nose more than the artwork. Her doubts were like a trap door opening and shutting bringing forbidden thoughts into the corners of her mind.
The class were dismayed as they could not write at all regarding their experiences in galleries; but the teacher could. It was unfair! How come she had two attempts, but others had none. Not only that, but the ordinary, unsophisicated, uninteresting and lazy language of the teacher meant that the submitted work was also boring.
He walked into the gallery with awe and suspicion in his eyes. Walls lined with esoteric items, each more interesting than the last. Each one seemed to scream out for attention. The overwhelming stimulation was too much, and he fainted.
The gallery was full of interested students for the Monet exhibition was on. The lines were long, but the room was silent. It was rainy outside, but I was hungry. But, I forgot about all of that as I stood and looked at the painting in front of me.
Gallery. Gallery reminds me of Neopets. I used to be so dedicated to that site. But I grew up, I suppose. I miss it though. But, sometimes you just need to grow up…
The writing gallery is full. I can’t believe this many people have come to read my writings. Wow. I never thought. I might make it big some day. My name in lights and on the best sellers list.
in your presence the world of others goes out of business, and from the street of my stare now only one lamp need flare above the grand stairs of your gracious beauty of which i care to kiss every step.
this is the place where intelligent people go. and also the place where young artists show themselves. nice atmosphere, make you feel up-class. and you can meet some great people there too. not mainstram.
The gallery of paintings was awesome. I walked through very slow taken them all in. Wow, what a wonderful display of the original paintings from my favorite artist.
Pictures everywhere. Breathe and enjoy. Jump into one and have an adventure. Which one?? Let’s go.
Paintings. That’s the last thing (now, wait, I meant first) I think of. Artistic things….abstract paintings. Sculptures. Something cool, something unique. I also think of Spence Shay from iCarly. I think of museums….I think of happiness and joy and France from Hetalia: Axis Powers I think of self expression. Peace. War. EVERYTHING. I think of anything a and everything that make s sense to the creator….and not everybody has to agree. And I also think of myself. That’s a gallery to me.
Virginal white walls, hard, sharp angles, and tiny windows to other worlds. Paint splashed across carpet, spilled orange juice, dirty dishes.
I open the gallery and it is all gone. Everything. The whole collection has dissapeared. All i can think is “where are all the birds?”. Where did they fly off to?
How can we define what a gallery is, what is Art? Can a gallery be the world around us? Or is it limited to pictures in a physical room?
One must wonder, is the future in AR or merging the digital imagery with physical spaces.
Bringing the gap will be interesting that’s for sure!
visible show. I now see what you got with all of you in the open like this. paintings
movies. music, the milky way, musuem, art, alot, collection, shopping.
Art and wine and people in black dresses. old futs. know-it-alls have a showcase. cosmopolitan. achievement. happiness is always in the air only when you’re with someone special. I would hate to go to a gallery with someone who i didn’t like. I want to put on a wig and look like them, or rather strip down to a wig. I need inspiration.
I need to finish the painting. This will be my opportunity to be something great. I need to finish the painting this week. They need the painting by this week and if I don’t finish, no one will ever see what I can do.
Castiel looked around at the art, the countless pictures that were like stars–dead a million years ago, but the images still projected, still marveled at.
A gallery is where artsy fartsy people put their paintings so that the world can see. I happen to be one of those art geeks that goes to galleries…:)
She walked in to the gallery slowly examining all the art work. Taking each piece in one at a time, heart and soul feeling overwhelmed. It had just dawned on her that all these pictures were hers. That the people that were there wanted to not only look at but also purchase and displays these things in their homes. All her life she was told that painting was just a hobby and now she finally got to show every one how wrong they really were.
Soon, a visit to New York will be paid. Where me and chosen boy can be artsy and go to the gayborhood and eat at hip vegan places and stare at galleries while saying mock thoughtful things.
The art gallery held his paintings. It was his first art show ever. The crowd was large and the enthusiasm even bigger. His paintings lined the walls of the gallery until the last one sold.
As I said goodbye today to my sweet friend I have so many wonderful treasures of our 18-years together, I will keep our love alive in a gallery in my heart, always open to be revisited and enjoyed. Love you Lucy cat.
art gallery, painting gallery, music gallery, a collection of arts in a gallery, a collection of music in a music in a library
the gallery was filled with people but I didn’t know what I was doing there. People seem to know me but no one looks familiar.
The gallery of pictures,
The stories of painters,
The shame of thinkers,
Sometimes I would linger,
Thinking over places I have never been.
surrounded by a gallery of small squares, each decorated with a different image, i question how long it will take in order for my work to be equally as appreciated.
models pretentious abstract expensive guards gift shops party soho hipsters blank walls drinks in plastic cups trying to be elevated in opinion snobs art
I just read a blurb about a guy, a writer, who was in an art gallery that had tapestries depicting Jesus and The Last Supper and a bunch of other scenes that the big guy went through before he got…ya know. Anyway, long story short, this writer had an incredible epiphany due to the fact that these pictures told a story, as if it was a form of a screenplay or a storyboard. I hope that, sooner or later, I can manufacture some form of art that elicits the same sort of reaction.
Gallery openings can be fun, but mostly they’re not. Take, for example, the one we went to last week. The music was turned down too low to actually enjoy, but too loud to actually converse. The photographs were inexplicable in that it was hard to say which of them might have been meant as jokes. Disconcerting. Next time I’ll skip it.