blessed or what, in the land, the fire did, and the ceiling; And what joined the plow to the patient and friendly ox; And what found the hoe; which is, from the abject floor, Did, to the kisses of the sun, the gold sprout from the wheat; (BILAC, 2007, p.81) The world can be shaped under the eye … Read more
Fall asleep with the music of life. Be enchanted. Forget it. Dispersion is a pleasure. Don't want to be you. Want to be the infinite soul of everything. Exchange your short human dream for the immortal dream. The only. The misery of being afraid wins. Swap yourself for the Unknown. don't you see then, that he is bigger? Not … Read more
Geometric masses In music scores Plastic and silence From the created space. seahorse and shell. The sea gave you a corolla The sky magnetized you But the light restored the balance Shell and sea horse. (MATHEW, 2009, seahorse and shell) seahorse and shell, covering her affectionately in a delicate attempt to envelop her in … Read more
I am the earth, I am the life. From my clay came first the man. From me came the woman and came the love. Came the tree and came to source. The fruit comes and the flower comes. I am the original source of all life. I'm the ground that sticks to yours … Read more
Seeing so much go by I just don't watch the time. In the crooked corridor The street is less dense. How much more does pass In every way Time gets distracted Or goes out, slept. After I don't know how much Take me in your vacuum, Looks like the clock ran early. But that he was right Soon after I find out: … Read more
Rosângela Vig in 2021: PROJECT DAYS OF RECLUSION, by Rosângela Vig Art goes where the People are!, by Rosângela Vig FRIDA KAHLO MUSEUM, by Rosângela Vig Exhibition by Franco Belli at Brazil Gallery – Art Gallery, by Rosângela Vig 8th. June Festival in Liechtenstein, by Rosângela Vig The Awakening of the Dream in Art, by … Read more
You can also listen to this article in the voice of own Plastic Artist Rosângela Vig: filling up the conversations, come out of the dimness, jumping, the frogs. The light dazzles them. In a roar that lands, howls the bullfrog: – “my father went to war!” – “It was not!” – “Was!” – “It was not!”. the cooper toad, Watery Parnassian, says: – … Read more
You can also listen to this article in the voice of own Plastic Artist Rosângela Vig: my heart feels very sad… While the gray of goose bumps dialogues a lament with the wind… my heart feels very happy! This upturned chill makes you want to smile! And I follow. And I'm feeling, to the restless alacrity of winter, such as … Read more
It may be that the best days of our childhood are printed on a sheet of paper. colored; with worked risks; just scribbled; in the form of stories told, of fables, of tales, or in charming poetry. Paper has always been enchanted by its textures, by the way you receive the pencil, the pen, or how does he receive the watchful eye of the … Read more
Do not say. This one who gave me body is my Father. This one that gave me body is my Mother. Much more your Father and your Mother are the ones who made you In spirit. And these were numberless. No name. Of all time. They left their tracks on the paths of today. all who have ever lived. … Read more