Efi Kokkinaki: Painting is My Language


Image may contain: outdoor

Fine artist Efi Kokkinaki paints a language we can all understand. The feelings that arise from her works provide a balm for the sin sick soul. A kind of innocence overlying the harsh realities of  another world combines in a way reminiscent of early works by Marc Chagall and his paintings of his little Russian village.

 

Image may contain: water

 

As the eye flows through and around the soaring textures and soothing colors in Efi’s work, a sense of peace and weightlessness emerges and helps breed our belief that in fact, we have reached another dimension, a dimension we may have experienced only in a dream.

 

By Jan Kirstein, writer and visual artist

More Works by Efi

Image may contain: outdoor

 

No automatic alt text available.

No automatic alt text available.

No automatic alt text available.

 

I am a painter, an art teacher in school and I also illustrate books for children.
Painting is my language to express the world as I see it…

Efi Kokkinaki

 

Efi is an artist from Greece. Her Facebook Painting Page and Instagram are listed below.

 

paintings by Efi Kokkinaki

 

/https://www.facebook.com/Efi-Kokkinaki-142483405921300/

https://www.instagram.com/efikokkinaki/

Advertisements

How to Hang Your Wall Images


Thinking you might like to spice up your walls with a dash of creative spirit in the form of uplifting art, but finding all the choices for frames, mats, and hanging so baffling? Here are some helpful tips for hanging fine art in your home. Check out these suggestions, and maybe this will help clear the confusion!

 

Just click this photo to see this helpful Houzz article on tips for hanging art.

 

 

 

IMG_3680

To see how to select framing options, choose mats or to purchase click here.

 

IMG_3675

To see how to select framing options,choose mats or to purchase click here.

 

img_3733

To see how to select framing options,choose mats or to purchase click here.

 

 

To see more images like these,  click here to look around Fine Art America to see more of my works, by Jan Kirstein, or look over the whole website to see many other artists’ works as well! Enjoy your visit.

Stream of Consciousness: Creating a New Reality


Creating you own reality is an especially appealing idea to me right now, especially when so many realities around us are a carcophany of screenshots I much prefer to deleate.  So here is a sample of my alternate universe!

Here’s a close up of one of my screenshots with my book “Fantasy Animals.”


What Binge readers my stuffed animals are! And this is what happens if you let them read “Fantasy Animals” without adult supervision. Why don’t you check it out here? www.amazon.com/dp/B01LYJAGLK. These guys, up all night, acting out the parts. 

Jump on in. Find an alternate universe in the world of imagination and parable!
And for another alternate universe try shopping on my new website HERE. You never know what the world of imagination can bring you!

Official Opening Today


IMG_2295.JPG

 

I would lke like to invite you to the opening today of my new website: http://kirsteinfineart.myshopify.com.  You can visit through this link or through my main menu on my front page through the Shopping tab.

Here are just a few of my favorite things you can see: (Click on thumbnails to enlarge.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’ll love this idea!


 

 

IMG_2162

http://kirsteinfineart.myshopify.com

Hi everyone!

First, I want to let you know that I am getting ready to feature more awesome, creative fine artist painters in the very near future, but I have been recently sick. I think I’m finally getting better because today I had the strength to plant some herbs and flowers. A very God sign (I meant to type good, but God works just as well) ,  I think!

In the meanwhile, I wanted to share my new line of mix and match “Circus Buddies” items to delight your Inner Child! I am opening up a Shopify outlet on my Facebook page Kirsteinfineart in 5 days, but you can get your items at a discount early  click   here.

Browse the collection, and let me know if you have a favorite! If you choose to click the above link, it will take you directly to my manufacturing outlet Fineartamerica. Here is how it works. Click on an image you prefer in all Circus Buddies images. Then look to the right for a menu of all the various items. You will see many choices: pillows, duvet covers, shower curtains, prints, posters, cards, totes, beach towels, etc.

Have fun “shopping” with my Circus Buddies!

I hope to be back in gear in a few more days, so can get out some more artist features! Meanwhile, enjoy your summer!

 

Jan Kirstein

Click on these thumbnails to enlarge.

Halloween is Art! Halloween Treats…


monster-3
“Monster” painting by Hannah Blankenship, Western Hills High School Art Student

Everywhere you turn, costumes, paintings, face painting,  and hair styles dress the Halloween.

 

 

monster-1
“Monster” by Maci Tackett, Western Hills High School art student

At Western Hills High School in Frankfort, Kentucky, we celebrated our new status as a Distinguished School with special activities including an outdoor cook out for lunch. The weather was beautiful today! Perfect day for a picnic!

 

 

monster-2
“Ghost” by Kanice Prince, Western Hills High School art student.

Our High School students in the art room treated the Western Hills Day Care trick -or- treaters with a little chocolate!

 

MORE HALLOWEEN ART

 

 

stylowi_pl_swieta-i-uroczystosci_46479834

 

 

 

AND WHO REMEMBERS GOMEZ AND MORTICIA?

tumblr_o4xhw6emgv1qdm4tlo1_500

 

 

 

A POEM FOR HALLOWEEN BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

raven-moon-carol-cavalaris

 

 

 

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe | Poetry Foundation <link href=”//www.poetryfoundation.org/assets/styles/icons.fallback.css” rel=”stylesheet”>

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore–
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door–
            Only this and nothing more.”
    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow;–vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow–sorrow for the lost Lenore–
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
            Nameless here for evermore.
    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me–filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door–
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;–
            This it is and nothing more.”
    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”–here I opened wide the door;–
            Darkness there and nothing more.
    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”–
            Merely this and nothing more.
    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore–
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;–
            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door–
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door–
            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore–
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning–little relevancy bore;
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door–
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
            With such name as “Nevermore.”
    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
    Nothing farther then he uttered–not a feather then he fluttered–
    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before–
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore–
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
            Of ‘Never–nevermore’.”
    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore–
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee–by these angels he hath sent thee
    Respite–respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!–
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted–
    On this home by Horror haunted–tell me truly, I implore–
Is there–is there balm in Gilead?–tell me–tell me, I implore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!–prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us–by that God we both adore–
    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore–
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting–
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
    Leave my loneliness unbroken!–quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
            Shall be lifted–nevermore!

CLICK HERE FOR BOOKS FOR CHILDREN!

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

 

CLICK HERE FOR SOME PET HALLOWEEN COSTUMES!

510rled2ehl
Halloween lion’s mane for your dog!