Welcome to my first attempt to communicate via this medium. I never thought I would find myself in this position. It’s a daunting experience, an adventure into a vast and unknown territory, peopled by an infinite amount of waiting letters, phrases and images in what I imagine must be like some huge pulsating cloud out there somewhere.
My mind boggles at the thought that these words will be catapulted into that cloud by simply pushing some buttons on a little mechanical gadget. They will then float around until someone, like you, presses another few buttons and they appear out of nowhere.
Until now the old fashioned method of letter writing has been my way of staying in touch with family and friends. I still indulge in, what is for many, this antiquated and painfully slow form of communication. I like the ritual. I like the texture of the paper, the feel of my old and trusty pen, the colour and smell of the ink and even making personalised envelopes with old pieces of colour paper and glue.
It is entirely due to the consistent ‘harassment’ of my family and friends that I am making this formidable jump.
Because of my way of life, the reality of my technological illiteracy and the fact that it would take far too much time away from my work, anything to do with the business side of running this website etc. is in the hands of dearly beloved and trusted friends.
Thank you for getting this far. I hope that you will, in some way, enjoy my work.
Slán agus beannacht leat,
Pauline Solon
Denis Dillon
August 17th, 2009 11:26 am
Rachael asked me to pop in to your website for a look.
You did a great job on the site, I love the way your art is displayed. Best wishes for the future.
Regards
Denis
Rickie Fain
August 18th, 2009 5:38 pm
Your site brings a lovely addition to the world of art on the internet. I have enjoyed exploring your paintings, poetry,……. and your most interesting bio.
It will be my great pleasure to return often.
Regards and best wishes.
Rickie
Susana
September 4th, 2009 12:34 pm
Pauline eres sensibilidad y música. Un susurro al oido.
Te recuerdo.
La brisa azotando tu pelo, niños,sol y arena
nosotros y el mundo…nuestro mundo.
La mirada,tu mirada que desnuda el alma.
Sin palabras
Recuerdos que un día como hoy rememoro
con tu pincel en los arrozales de Ubud en vuestra casa de alcanfor que guarda una historia
Una historia de paz y amor.
Amigos