All artworks by David Wilde
Poetry and Jazz CD • 1 artwork
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Other previously published works by David Wilde include the following, listed by time, place and publication [...]
Other previously published works by David Wilde include the following, listed by time, place and publication and also whether print or electronic form (URL).
1) The Sprit That Wants Me: Anthology of New Mexico Authors, 1991 Albuquerque, N.M. Duff, 1991
2) Conceptions Southwest Magazine, University New Mexico: extract from One Day in April: An Irish Lullaby (A Novel) Volume 19, Number 2, Fall 1996.
3) La Puerta: Doorway into the Academy: Freshman English textbook (contributor). Kendall Hunt Publishing Company, First Edition 1997/1998/1999
4) Poetry: Academic Exchange Extra: electronic online magazine, August/September 2003:
students/AE-Extra/2003/7/Right-1.html
students/AE-Extra/2003/8/Right-1.html
5) Article on Hurricane Katrina: 'A Disaster Relief Volunteers Perspective'
students/AE-Extra/2008/2/indxmain.html/ Academic Exchange Extra: electronic online magazine. March 2008
6) REPRIEVED: Poetry/Jazz CD, with music by Joe McCanna. BMW Records 2007
7) Forthcoming Poetry: : electronic online magazine, July, 2008
1) The Sprit That Wants Me: Anthology of New Mexico Authors, 1991 Albuquerque, N.M. Duff, 1991
2) Conceptions Southwest Magazine, University New Mexico: extract from One Day in April: An Irish Lullaby (A Novel) Volume 19, Number 2, Fall 1996.
3) La Puerta: Doorway into the Academy: Freshman English textbook (contributor). Kendall Hunt Publishing Company, First Edition 1997/1998/1999
4) Poetry: Academic Exchange Extra: electronic online magazine, August/September 2003:
students/AE-Extra/2003/7/Right-1.html
students/AE-Extra/2003/8/Right-1.html
5) Article on Hurricane Katrina: 'A Disaster Relief Volunteers Perspective'
students/AE-Extra/2008/2/indxmain.html/ Academic Exchange Extra: electronic online magazine. March 2008
6) REPRIEVED: Poetry/Jazz CD, with music by Joe McCanna. BMW Records 2007
7) Forthcoming Poetry: : electronic online magazine, July, 2008
bookArt • 16 artworks
View allwildeShots • 29 artworks
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A Range of photographic icons from 1930s to the 3rd Millennium chosen at random but selected individually [...]
A Range of photographic icons from 1930s to the 3rd Millennium chosen at random but selected individually for each of the solitary yet unique qualities of artistic sensibility born of each aesthetic but practical visual moment. Old in the sense of the black and white era and Brownie camera art still hanging by the tail of WWII sepia hints at early european and even 19th century figures, themes and moods woven thereing. 1950s centered in a non-intrusive manner. DW
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63, Lorraine Road. (1,087 wds)
(Thu, Jul 21, 2005 at 11:36 AM) (1947-1967)
In the kitchen was a "brown" cupboard near the window, at right-angles tall with narrow doors (?) but the kitchen door was painted a "green-blue" through which one entered into the scullery – a step down - green linoleum covered. But the brown box radio/wireless (the first) with valves was in that cupboard on a shelf too high to reach for small boys in short trousers who were too curious about foreign sounding names etched into the yellow frequency band seen through the glass. There was a connection between this and grandmother's place, her home in Hereford City. The dark, muted tones and dusty atmosphere, or dampness. (Clairvoyant/Psychic?) The kitchen window was also brown - looking at the rain in the yard - waking at Christmas to the loud hush or "quiet" of a gentle snowfall - magical and soft and - "knowing" the fact without looking out of the bedroom window- the "settled" or settling snow of winter… "The piano in the Front Living Room at 63 Lorraine Road in 1965-1967" (?)("Brown" was Army/"Blue" was Air-force) Living above the bicycle shop "in Cardiff" Mother and family.At St Edwards the "gang show" was a major event held every year in the wooden hall at the rear of the brick built church warmed by a single ‘gas’ fire. My very first stage show was in a small drama (more of a 'singing' routine) on the stage of that theatre, sponsored by the St. Edwards Scout group, and locally by the church supporters of the local parish of Aylestone Ward. In 1954/1955 it was an honour, almost a duty, to take part in the community activity such as this. A legacy of wartime obligations and loyalty to the Crown. At this point in its history, our local community was a cross between the Conservative and the left of labour, politics being the ever present dictator to our valuable and innocent (?) activities (8/15/99 - 9:00pm). Several ex-pat welsh- politicians lived nearby although I was not aware until years later. The SwallowsThe swallows return/reborn every year to the Duncan House was a sign, a definite promise of spring in the air. Wheeling and diving, performing fabulous acrobatics this display became a sunshine feeling or mood for a conspiracy of learning, for 'us' children, a 'clock' that told the romantic story of the unfolding seasons as they passed one after the other, ticking off the tabloid years in a bewildering accelerated passage of autumns, winters and springs. Summer only dazed and dozed as the School Holidays filled us with trips to the canal, the Locks and the Aylestone Backwaters across the Aylestone Playing Fields, which in turn flooded in the spring. The cycles of cold to warm to muggy to damp and again cold in a whirring of sprung machine like revolutions. A revolver of chambers like a gun. The gun powder was the blood that flowed redly through our veins like a hot and powerful liquid that only ironed out our will to perservere. The little brood of living animal - lovers, like the Swallows swiftly flying here and there, collecting food for our snug nest of red-brick, and blue welsh slate to cover the roof, protecting us from the severity of the very same elements. Melting snow slid and dripped from the white roof tops. The promise of the soon-to-be budding trees and local gardens gave a distinctly fresh air to all our subsequent activities. (2/27/02 - 5:51 pm) - (another way of life!) The blue-enameled coking stove in the Scullery was the life and soul of the little house as the gas provided heat in the frosty November mornings when school and work were imperatives. I was the often breakfast cook and it stood on the maroon covered cement floor in the corner next to what had at one time, in the 1940s, been the brick-covered copper boiler (and a hard brick floor) housing the "copper" in which all our laundry was washed, cleaned and purified by hand! The smell of boiling soap-suds still clinging to the stubborn echo of a memory. The gas-stove was eventually replaced by a more modern machine - The Euclidean back garden was set out in truly military fashion with divisions which would have impressed and astonished Napoleon. Of the total area at least half was used for growing vegetables, including the usual mint, cabbage, lettuces and the ubiquitous carrot. As well as a large-ish stock of Rhubarb and you can guess what that was eaten with (custard). What with the allotment there was a plentiful supply of food. The half that wasn't for growing vegetables was itself split geometrically into two areas. One side was used to house a row of rabbit hutches (for our protein - containing rabbits naturally) and that left a median running the length of the garden which became the dirt path, navigated by us and parallel just above our heads with an overhanging washing line to hang and dry the now freshly laundered clothes, linen, sheets, which kept us hygienic and (sometimes) smart. The picture was a familiar one to those who lived in those days in that era. A set of backyards flying rows of clean and sometimes colourful sheets, socks and indescribable items of unknown and unknowable origins, flapping and blowing in the gusty breezes of spring was as familiar to these folk as the subsequent rows of television aerials floating above the rooftops. To the north was a corrugated shed beyond which the pear-trees showered their fruit onto out land from the neighbor's garden. This was assigned a 'no-go' area. If caught trying to capture the fallen fruit it was endemic to put them back! To the east and west were the wooden fences and the brick wall symbolizing the narrowness of our existence and the sense of hopelessness of ever trying to escape these physical boundaries of our lives. Like a modern container ship this was the full extent and square footage outside of which we may not and dare not trespass without permission from our parents. The sheer beauty never really revealed itself of this arrangement until much later on reflecting upon the closeness and bonding of family life compared with a non-family existence. The fruits of this experience have never, and may never ever wear off, thank god. The garden gave us a sense of our productive abilities and raw power in terms of the private and public domains of our world.
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63, Lorraine Road. (1,087 wds)
(Thu, Jul 21, 2005 at 11:36 AM) (1947-1967)
In the kitchen was a "brown" cupboard near the window, at right-angles tall with narrow doors (?) but the kitchen door was painted a "green-blue" through which one entered into the scullery – a step down - green linoleum covered. But the brown box radio/wireless (the first) with valves was in that cupboard on a shelf too high to reach for small boys in short trousers who were too curious about foreign sounding names etched into the yellow frequency band seen through the glass. There was a connection between this and grandmother's place, her home in Hereford City. The dark, muted tones and dusty atmosphere, or dampness. (Clairvoyant/Psychic?) The kitchen window was also brown - looking at the rain in the yard - waking at Christmas to the loud hush or "quiet" of a gentle snowfall - magical and soft and - "knowing" the fact without looking out of the bedroom window- the "settled" or settling snow of winter… "The piano in the Front Living Room at 63 Lorraine Road in 1965-1967" (?)("Brown" was Army/"Blue" was Air-force) Living above the bicycle shop "in Cardiff" Mother and family.At St Edwards the "gang show" was a major event held every year in the wooden hall at the rear of the brick built church warmed by a single ‘gas’ fire. My very first stage show was in a small drama (more of a 'singing' routine) on the stage of that theatre, sponsored by the St. Edwards Scout group, and locally by the church supporters of the local parish of Aylestone Ward. In 1954/1955 it was an honour, almost a duty, to take part in the community activity such as this. A legacy of wartime obligations and loyalty to the Crown. At this point in its history, our local community was a cross between the Conservative and the left of labour, politics being the ever present dictator to our valuable and innocent (?) activities (8/15/99 - 9:00pm). Several ex-pat welsh- politicians lived nearby although I was not aware until years later. The SwallowsThe swallows return/reborn every year to the Duncan House was a sign, a definite promise of spring in the air. Wheeling and diving, performing fabulous acrobatics this display became a sunshine feeling or mood for a conspiracy of learning, for 'us' children, a 'clock' that told the romantic story of the unfolding seasons as they passed one after the other, ticking off the tabloid years in a bewildering accelerated passage of autumns, winters and springs. Summer only dazed and dozed as the School Holidays filled us with trips to the canal, the Locks and the Aylestone Backwaters across the Aylestone Playing Fields, which in turn flooded in the spring. The cycles of cold to warm to muggy to damp and again cold in a whirring of sprung machine like revolutions. A revolver of chambers like a gun. The gun powder was the blood that flowed redly through our veins like a hot and powerful liquid that only ironed out our will to perservere. The little brood of living animal - lovers, like the Swallows swiftly flying here and there, collecting food for our snug nest of red-brick, and blue welsh slate to cover the roof, protecting us from the severity of the very same elements. Melting snow slid and dripped from the white roof tops. The promise of the soon-to-be budding trees and local gardens gave a distinctly fresh air to all our subsequent activities. (2/27/02 - 5:51 pm) - (another way of life!) The blue-enameled coking stove in the Scullery was the life and soul of the little house as the gas provided heat in the frosty November mornings when school and work were imperatives. I was the often breakfast cook and it stood on the maroon covered cement floor in the corner next to what had at one time, in the 1940s, been the brick-covered copper boiler (and a hard brick floor) housing the "copper" in which all our laundry was washed, cleaned and purified by hand! The smell of boiling soap-suds still clinging to the stubborn echo of a memory. The gas-stove was eventually replaced by a more modern machine - The Euclidean back garden was set out in truly military fashion with divisions which would have impressed and astonished Napoleon. Of the total area at least half was used for growing vegetables, including the usual mint, cabbage, lettuces and the ubiquitous carrot. As well as a large-ish stock of Rhubarb and you can guess what that was eaten with (custard). What with the allotment there was a plentiful supply of food. The half that wasn't for growing vegetables was itself split geometrically into two areas. One side was used to house a row of rabbit hutches (for our protein - containing rabbits naturally) and that left a median running the length of the garden which became the dirt path, navigated by us and parallel just above our heads with an overhanging washing line to hang and dry the now freshly laundered clothes, linen, sheets, which kept us hygienic and (sometimes) smart. The picture was a familiar one to those who lived in those days in that era. A set of backyards flying rows of clean and sometimes colourful sheets, socks and indescribable items of unknown and unknowable origins, flapping and blowing in the gusty breezes of spring was as familiar to these folk as the subsequent rows of television aerials floating above the rooftops. To the north was a corrugated shed beyond which the pear-trees showered their fruit onto out land from the neighbor's garden. This was assigned a 'no-go' area. If caught trying to capture the fallen fruit it was endemic to put them back! To the east and west were the wooden fences and the brick wall symbolizing the narrowness of our existence and the sense of hopelessness of ever trying to escape these physical boundaries of our lives. Like a modern container ship this was the full extent and square footage outside of which we may not and dare not trespass without permission from our parents. The sheer beauty never really revealed itself of this arrangement until much later on reflecting upon the closeness and bonding of family life compared with a non-family existence. The fruits of this experience have never, and may never ever wear off, thank god. The garden gave us a sense of our productive abilities and raw power in terms of the private and public domains of our world.
Drawing • 4 artworks
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Between 2006 and 2009 this small but distinguished elite group of artists, writers and poets met to [...]
Between 2006 and 2009 this small but distinguished elite group of artists, writers and poets met to discuss the news, intellectual and political at çommon grounds' a student coffee shop at the University of New Mexico.
Participants included but not exclusively are: Dr. Peter Pabisch, Dr. Theo Walker, David Briggs, ABD PhD., Claudia Lombano ABD,PhD, Hal Cupp and last but by no means least, David Wilde. These drawings known as 'Secundenskitzen' or quick sketches by PP0 (Peter Pabisch) sets the background atmosphere for ferociously intellectual dialogue, sometimes alluded to as "the Second Vienna Circle" -or- 'the Aryans' (but you can call them whatever you please - just don't call them late for lunch!)
Participants included but not exclusively are: Dr. Peter Pabisch, Dr. Theo Walker, David Briggs, ABD PhD., Claudia Lombano ABD,PhD, Hal Cupp and last but by no means least, David Wilde. These drawings known as 'Secundenskitzen' or quick sketches by PP0 (Peter Pabisch) sets the background atmosphere for ferociously intellectual dialogue, sometimes alluded to as "the Second Vienna Circle" -or- 'the Aryans' (but you can call them whatever you please - just don't call them late for lunch!)
Still Life • 55 artworks
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2 distinct styles form and separate the Old and the New worlds of Engiand and the USA. New Mexico at [...]
2 distinct styles form and separate the Old and the New worlds of Engiand and the USA. New Mexico at the turn of the millennium and the era of pre and post WWII europe Dark europe with sombre shades and bright with promise USA tones up the magic of the southwestern desert lands capped with great chunks of mountain split almost midway by the cobalt hints and red and ochre reefs of cloud and sky. DW
Latest Artworks • 1 artwork
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