The Death of Mark Rothko
On February 25, 1970 Mark Rothko took some pills, sliced his arms and went into the long sleep. As his life drained away, his blood formed in a large pool around him. This is a 4' x 5' acrylic on canvas, "The Death of Mark Rothko." Your comments are appreciated.
posted by Marty Rudoy at 2:06 PM
2 Comments:
You're kneading the dough the right way.
Ciao !
Red ( a poem by Lizzie)
What is Red?
Red is the sound of tulips blossoming in the spring.
Red is the color of the ketchup you squeeze when the ump says play ball.
Red is the towel that lies in the sand.
Red is the color of the leaves that fall all down in the fall.
Red is the center of a sunset, while the seagulls soar into the horizon.
Red is the color of the stripe that soars in the sky on the flag.
Red is the color of tomato sauce that oozes all over yummy noodles.
Red is the color of the kite that zooms all over the afternoon sky.
Red is the marker that gives the grade that leads to your fate.
Red is the color of valintines that are givin to those who you love.
Red is the teddy bears new red bow.
Red is the color of Santa's suit thatyou feel as you give him a hug.
Red is the color of an apples shiney new skin as you sink your teeth into it.
Red is the color of the BLOOD that flows gently threw your body.
Red is the Red Bell Pepper that is hard sweet and crisp.
Red is the color of the stoplight as people groan in their cars.
Red is the stop sign that is big red and bright.
Red is the ant that bites and stings.
Red is the rainbow that appears after the rain its always the first color you see.
When you are Red you are emotional and quite the dramatic sort.
Red is land, air, and sea.
Red is everywhere you look.
Lizzie
Oh Marty, it looks wonderful. The background information really exascerbates that feeling of suffering. And your flesh tone looks really good...
Post a Comment
<< Home