The Power of Portraits

 

I love the art of the portrait. Through painting and sketching my favorite artists, typically in the music industry, I catch a glimpse of peace.

When I am feeling inspired I find that creating art through  personal ideas is exciting and even euphoric, but when my mind is clouded and I cannot generate original images in my head I turn to portraits. I’ve found, having more than one mental disorder obstacle in my life, that there is usually a time and place to face the idiosyncratic demons that dwell in my psyche. Depression, for one, can catalyze breathtaking art when the moment is right, but confronting depression through art is inopportune when I do not have the energy or mental capacity to face the darkness within. Times like this are sublime for shifting my aesthetic towards portrait painting and drawing. The power of portraits, at least from my experience, comes from the fact that I do not have to do much thinking. It’s very instinctual and intuitive. For this reason I am able to feel a sort of harmony with the plane that my consciousness permeates.

Getting lost in the use of your hand as you mindlessly translate a photograph on a screen into a portrait on a canvas is the type of therapeutic my redundant brain craves. There is something deeply meditative about studying an image of another human being, whom you admire and connect with on an artistic level, and merging their meaningful archetype in your mind with your own language of brush strokes or pencil markings. Portrait-making sends me in a zone of consciousness so powerful that I genuinely do not feel the weight of time. My perception is blissfully numb to the minutes, hours, even days that pass by while I lose my ego in acrylic shapes. The pain of depression or the edge of anxiety is muted. It still inhabits my subconscious, but the radio that is my brain doesn’t transmit these signals. All I can perceive is this timeless unity of a beloved image and my instinctive hands replicating the image with my own signature touches.

 

For more portraits by Valerie Parente check out the Portrait Gallery !

– Valerie Parente (3-9-2018)

Cynic

"Devil's Advocate" by Valerie Parente

“Devil’s Advocate” by Valerie Parente

Cynic by Valerie Parente

He has a very quick wit and he uses it to guard himself
Always the cynic, never fails to cast a doubt
Playing devil’s advocate to get a rise from the crowd
But I think there’s a twist he doesn’t want figured out
I’ve begun to notice that the words in his mouth
Are fueled by conflict but claim an impartial sound
He declares disinterest, yet he still sticks around
While using logic to debate rational grounds
This seems to contradict the face of a neutral account
Because no true nihilist has a belief worth caring about
I know when he reads this he’ll just shut me down
He’ll laugh and dismiss the complexity I’ve announced
With the same rhetoric that makes him so profound.

– Valerie Parente (3-5-2018)

Incognito

Incognito by Valerie Parente

You were so upset, but you wouldn’t admit why
All my words you’d deflect, like there was something to hide
And although you seemed tense, I didn’t want to pry
I wonder why you protect your highly cynical side
Well I guess that depends where your priorities lie
Maybe I can’t cure your distress, but I wish you’d give me a try
Because behind your comments a second message resides
Even though you pretend there’s no need to analyze
Call me crazy and obsessed, but I think it’s a sign
That the voice in your head still found a place in my mind.

I Thought It Was Obvious

– Valerie Parente (2-15-2018)

 

The Artist, The Muse: A Poetry & Prose Collection

The Artist, The Muse: A Poetry & Prose Collection by Valerie Parente OUT NOW

Buy THE ARTIST, THE MUSE Via Amazon

The Artist, The Muse is what you get when you interweave psychology, creativity, and spirituality into the poetic fabric of a mentally disordered daydreamer’s mind. Valerie Parente artfully hones the craft of written word in this collection of poetry and prose through fantastical metaphors, rhythmic patterns, heartfelt emotions, metaphysical references, and breath-taking epiphanies. Dark daydreams and silver-lining mantras blossom out of the obsessive compulsive writer’s verbal landscape as the artist becomes her own muse.

Includes poetry, prose, and artwork by Valerie Parente.

Table of Contents:

The Artist, The Muse
Conscience of Nonsense
Glitter In The Air
Shy of Me
The Gargoyle Mindset
An Inadequate Reflection
Ink
You’ve Made An Author Out Of Me
Essence
Grandiosity of the Sick
Daydreams Are Shadows
Sanctuary
Hindsight of the Falsehood
Echoes
Idu Ego
The Silver Screen
Realize These Butterflies
The Writer
Natural
The Instinct of Intuition
The Masterpiece Tragedy of Marionette
Egomaniac
Inquiries
Playing with Dolls
Imagination Is Not Free
Validation
I Wish You Well
Bleeding
Paradox Lock
Dreams of Floating
Give & Take
Her Bright Pink Shoes
Why I Apologize
My Heart Thaws
Mars
Sage of Tarkus
Normal
The Creeper
Young Sapling
Scarecrow
she could not master astral projection
Touch the Heart
Creator
To Be Human
Lady Luna and the Light Inside
Tiara
The Answer
Order In Disorder
Trust the Stars
Novelty
Message From The Universe

The Artist, The Muse by Valerie Parente

Sage of Tarkus

Sage of Tarkus by Valerie Parente

The heartaches of war that plagued the land of Segaduses left many civilians absent of faith. Lost. Looking for a reason to live again.

Determined to receive some sort of direction from a beacon of wisdom, a damsel from Segaduses traveled thirty miles by knight and steed to arrive at a cabin deep in the woods of Tarkus, home of the most acclaimed sage in all of the land. She had been on a journey for the past three years, searching for an answer to all of her sorrow. This girl with the mint green eyes convinced herself that the cure to her faithless haze could be found by falling in love. Her journey, for the past three years, was none other than a quest for a beloved hero whom could fill her life with purpose and interpersonal connection.

The gown worn by the damsel of Segaduses billowed like a blossoming tulip as she seated herself across the sage.

“I’ve been expecting you, dear,” the pale old woman stirred her chalice, making a burgundy whirlpool of the most fragrant truth serum. As the aroma wafted into stuffy cottage the damsel’s nostrils were filled and the knowledge she had denied deep in the core of her brain was activated.

With a confident nod the sage pointed to the knight on the stallion, outside of the cabin, whom had brought the Segaduses maiden so far along her journey.

“He is the one,” the strong-minded sage determined. “The man on the stallion is the man you will wed.”

For a fleeting second the damsel’s brow furrowed, then quickly vanished. Suddenly with a panic the enlightened yet shocked girl hastily shook her head, as if to rattle away the wisdom of the perceptive woman before her. “Oh no, no… he can’t be. I’ve known him for three years… he’s, he’s always been there in the background. If he were the one I would have known.”

“Dear,” the sage’s raspy voice lowered to a tender lull, “Knowledge does not require your conscious consent. Sometimes our subconscious knows at first sight, but our mind does not realize that what we felt was knowledge until years have passed.”

It took the frazzled girl a moment to respond. Her mint green eyes shivered as she struggled to make sense of the sage’s wisdom. How could it be? How could she have wanted something so badly but have never realized it was right before her eyes?

Adamant that the sage of Tarkus must have made a mistake, the damsel allowed her stubborn mind to wonder aloud, “But how can he be my hero if he does not have my most coveted traits?”

“Well what are you looking for in a hero, my dear?” the sage asked.

“A hero who has the same interests as I do.”

“So he is a reflection?”

“A hero who loves me unconditionally.”

“So he is a father?”

“A hero who knows how I feel before I say it.”

“So he is omniscient?”

Having given up, the damsel sunk deeper into her seat.

“Dear, what your heartbreak longs for is not a partner. What you are describing is not an equal. You are describing a God.”

Having given up, the Segaduses girl fell deeper into her subconscious, realizing the knowledge her depressed mind had repressed for so long.

"Damsel" by Valerie Parente

– Valerie Parente (11-23-2017)

Young Sapling

Young Sapling by Valerie Parente

You, Young Sapling, dig your roots deeper into the ground,
becoming more rigid and stubborn with every anxiety beneath your surface.

The conflict is that you did not want to grow up,
but time forced you to, as it does to all nature around to you.

But the difference between you and the others was that they embraced their growing pains
and instead you strengthened the roots that were already there.

Mother Nature wanted things from you that you were not ready to give
and rather than wait to be ready, you dug deeper into the dirt and resisted force.

You told yourself the extremist belief that you would never be ready.
You told yourself that this refusal to budge was part of your persiting identity.

And now more time has gone by and you still have to grow up, but you are lost.
So you hyper-focus your motivation on making proud the seed that first planted you.

You shut out the forest because to acknowledge the others
feels like abandoning those precious roots, and your pride will not allow this.

You numbed yourself from the changes in the weather pressure,
making it so hard to see the signs that you are now finally ready to grow up.

And how beautiful is it, Young Sapling, that Mother Nature placed another tree so close to you,
another sapling who dealt with the same trauma of not wanting to grow up,
another sapling that wants to be able to stretch out its branches to reach yours
and grow alongside you.

We Can Grow Together

“We Can Grow Together” by Valerie Parente

– Valerie Parente (11-18-2017)

Mars

profile picMars by Valerie Parente

I hold on to the moments where I am seen
using the past to verify my identity
but identifying with the ego is toxicity
by equating your nature to personality
you lose touch with the potential of who you could be.

– Valerie Parente (11-15-2017)

 

Glitter In The Air

“Glittler In The Air” by Valerie Parente

"Run Away" by Valerie Parente

“Run Away” by Valerie Parente

I told a star that I wanted to dedicate a fraction of myself to its bright soul. I preserved my time long before I ever laid eyes on that star. I spent twenty three years cultivating emotions, memories, and wisdom, and waited until it felt right to share these qualities. Then in the rain of my own eyes I was denied. And I guess what I feel now… is lost. I am lost in an immaculate dark forest under the most beautiful canopy of stars. Here I am trying to run away from a sadness surrounded by the sparkling night and I cannot figure out if the glitter in the air is a sign to turn back around, or a guiding light towards new territory.

Valerie Parente (11-6-2017)

Egomaniac

Egomaniac by Valerie Parente

I’m torn apart by this tragedy.
But in the eyes of a sane person
This has nothing to do with me.
So I feel ashamed and I try to stuff the pain down.
Because the last thing a tragedy needs
Is a selfish person like me.

Selfish

– Valerie Parente (10-24-17)

Why I Apologize

Why I Apologize by Valerie Parente

I apologize because I am less than perfect.

I apologize because I cannot read your mind.
I apologize to prove I am aware of my presentation.
I apologize to negate anything I do that you might dislike.
I apologize because I cannot be everybody’s inspiration.
I apologize to beat you to the punch.
I apologize to try and predict all you foresaw.
I apologize because I cannot say everything at once.
I apologize before you get the chance to see my flaws.

I apologize to seem perfect.

Chokehold

– Valerie Parente (10-16-2017)