Drive Dougie Drive

Drive Dougie Drive - mixed media, collage by douglas brent smith, 1998

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Miniature

i became aware of the poetry of existance and of the artistry of her voice of her thin, gentle fingers and the honesty of her eyes 1973

Mustard Seed Theatre Company Logos

Notes: Peter, Harry, and I started a little touring theatre company we called the Mustard Seed Theatre Company. We had very limited success for an all too brief amount of time. I later revived the name at churches in Chicago, and I'm sure that any search would uncover other theatre companies bearing that name, but we loved it while we proudly wore it on our t-shirts. These sketches are modest attempts at logos. circa 1977-1978

Say What You Feel

Say What You Feel -- mixed media by douglas brent smith

napkins and things

dorinda likes to doodle daringly on napkins unseen unnoticed by the scramblers eating eggs or sipping bitter coffee sometimes she pops out a song or sketches a summer scene from somewhere no one's been now here i am in Chicago frozen to the bone doodling on a napkin and wishing i was home but, lacking that i send a pre-doodled napkin to someone who appreciates napkins and things. douglas brent smith

Collage: Blue as You Do

Seems like I squared this one off as a possible album cover. It goes way back. The photos are circa 1980...

changing channels

big smile, a collage by douglas brent smith, was created 25 march 2001 (which seems to have been a productive day for collage, meaning that i likely got very little else done!). i've always enjoyed the work of salvadore dali and it's fun to include him in this collage. _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ you may use this image for non-commercial purposes. please cite it as follows: collage: (c) 2016 douglas brent smith

ocean walk

the cold wind blew uncut as ocean waves kicked stone gray jetties large gaping cracks between the rocks long suggestive pauses in our dialogue steps away a homasote haunted castle beyond a secret mist two blocks in the distance a single block between what we said and what pooled below the surface moist light beach sand crisp night air a buoy on the horizon this is your turf your haunting ground the smells salt sweet gulls and mussels and popcorn blended inseparable from that late summer visit our individual yet tethered travels returning each of us again to us in our own ocean so deep we may not swim beyond the mystery of the tingling unhinging phrases unstrung broken guitar strings a chipped boardwalk recollection stunning afternoon thru evening tones incidental sublimations consequential quirks of fate probing endless questions colored by scattered sighs barely audible experience unsaid unconsummated ties that clouds cover us and the moon that night one of our full moons stalking us ...

douglas brent smith

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