Seguidores

sexta-feira, 31 de maio de 2013

Create Your Own Reality

My artwork for the Blog: Ashface



"Global Vision Of The Situation" - Paulo Zerbato/10




I am here to help open minds
I am here to help give strength 
I am here to help spread positivity
I am here to help spread love
I am here to help spread peace
I am here to help give hope 
I am here to help stop discrimination
I am here to help change the world





Check it out the link:

http://itsashface.tumblr.com/








sábado, 25 de maio de 2013

Unveiled Masks

Illustration for the Blog:



"Mask Of Day By Day" - Paulo Zerbato/11


Unveiled Masks

“All falsehood is a mask; and however well made the mask may be, with a little attention we may always succeed in distinguishing it from the true face…”                                                                        ~Alexandre Dumas


When I was a child, I spent a lot of my free time watching television. Unlike today’s youth, we didn’t have internet, video games, or even cable TV. Don’t get me wrong. I lived for Gilligan’s Island and the Brady Bunch, but these shows portrayed characters at a surficial level that I could not really relate to. The show that I had the most difficult time with believing was The Andy Griffith Show because of one character, Otis.

I always thought that most alcoholics were like Otis the Town Drunk: staggering around with slurred speech. My perception was that an alcoholic was unclean, disheveled, and unable to hold a job. My mother, who I clearly believe is an alcoholic, was none of these things. Well, occasionally her speech was slurred and she staggered around, but that was when she was partying with her friends. All other times, she seemed the opposite.

One of the worst things that happened when my mother was drunk was that she would confide in me about her problems with her friends, which was bad enough. But she also decided as I became older to share with me some of the private peculiars of events that occurred between her boyfriends and herself. She told me about things that I did not (and was not ready to) understand. She shared with me intimate details of her sexual escapades that no child should be privy to. Throughout my life, this felt like the only time in my memory that my mother actually liked me. I knew better than complain. It would do no good; I’d still have to endure it. And on top of that, it would make her angry if I balked. What I did not know was that this was extremely inappropriate behavior, and most experts would consider this a form of sexual abuse.

Other than that, my mother generally blamed my brothers and me for all the things that went wrong in her life as well as in our own. Of course, this led to an insecure childhood and a neurotic adulthood. I spent a great deal of time wondering why people in my relationships didn’t love me. So, in order to satisfy my craving for the love and attention I sought and did not receive, I used what my mother had taught me about her sexuality to attract boys.

I realized as a young teen that older boys like to flirt with pretty girls. I became interested in clothes, make-up, and hairstyles. I love the attention that I got from boys at school who called me pretty, asked for my phone number, and would sit next to me in class initially fulfilled my desire for attention. I went to sleep an average, plain girl and woke up a popular and pretty junior high school princess. Life was beginning to look up for me for the first time ever, or so I thought.

But soon after my new-found popularity was unleashed, I discovered that boys had expectations that I was unprepared to execute. I was not ready for sexual relations. My mother made that seem vulgar and obscene. So, because of my unwillingness to give into their requests, I was soon labeled a “tease” by many of the boys at my school. Things changed again for me almost overnight.

I became aware later that God was protecting me by giving me the willpower to stave off teenaged boys who were after only one thing, but it caused me a great deal of anguish due to the fact that I was already so attention-starved. So, I began to feel sorry for myself. I used this self-pity to justify my irrational behavior as I became more and more angry. Deep inside, I thought that if no one liked the pretend me, the one I dreamed up who was popular, pretty, funny, and smart, no one would like the real me who was none of these things. Out of these events, the birth of a biting sense of sarcasm grew.

As my body and brain grew, too, my emotions stayed those of an immature teenager. I vowed that I would never show my true self again. I would continue to hide behind whatever handy mask that I could invent, but this time, I would be more prepared. I would learn the consequences of whatever part I played, but no matter what, I would not let anyone close enough to know the real me.

Today, I am still trying to understand my unhealthy way of life that had plagued me for so long. I am aware of my mother’s drinking problem and its effects on me, both then and now. I have learned how I used the many masks to avoid being close or intimate with anyone, even to the level of friendship because of the confusing manner in which my mother confided in me that I was not prepared to understand.

I have learned that I can trust again, even though my ability to trust during my childhood being raised by an alcoholic mother was tainted. I’ve learned that the Otis’s of the world are the exceptions, and that most alcoholics are highly functioning if judged only by outwardly appearances. Mostly, I’ve learned that I need people to help me heal. God has put them in my path for me to meet along my journey of unveiling the masks and exposing the real me, who is, in my own rights, a pretty princess, if only on the inside.





Check the Link:





quinta-feira, 23 de maio de 2013

ሸክም የማይከብደው ሕዝብ

Illustration for the Website: EthioFreedom
(Ethiopia)


"The Weight Of Oppression" - Paulo Zerbato/2010




ከኮረኔል አስናቀ እንግዳ
በደርግ ጊዜም ሆነ ዛሬ ዘረኛው ሕወሃት ሥልጣን በያዘበት ዘመን እኛ ኢትዮጵያውያን ከልክ ያለፈን ግፍ መሸከም እንዴት እንድምንችል መመልከቱ ባዕዳንን ብቻ ሳይሆን እኛንም እያስገረመን መጥቶአል::ለማመን በሚያስቸግር ሁኔታ እኛ ኢትዮጵያውያን ለምን ገደብ የሌለው መከራና ማለቂያ የሌለው ቀንበር ለምን መሸከም እንደቻልን ለመረዳት ትንሽ ምርምር ሳያስፈልገው አይቀርም::ወኔ ቢስነት ነው? ወይስ አለማወቅና አለመረዳት? ተጠያቂውስ ማነው? የኢትዮጵያ ሕዝብ ራሱ? ወይስ እንምራህ የሚሉት የፖለቲካ ፓርቲዎች? ወይስ ሁለቱም? በአስቸኳይ መፍትሄ የሚያስፈልገው አንገብጋቢ ጥያቄ ነው::
ደራሲው የዚህ መጽሐፍ ዋና ዓላማ ሁለት ነው ይላሉ:: አንደኛው የተኛውን የሰፊውን የሕዝብ ህሊና ቀስቅሶ ለዲሞክራሲ እንዲታገል መገፋፋት ነው:: ሌላው ደግሞ በጨቋኞችና በአድርባዮች መቃብር ላይ የሰፊውን ሕዝብ ዓርማ ማቆም ነው::

 ክፍል አንድንና ክፍል ሁለትን ክፍል ሦስትና ክፍል አራትን ለማንበብ እዚህ ይጫኑ ::





Check the link:

http://www.ethiofreedom.com





quarta-feira, 22 de maio de 2013

Between

Illustration for the Blog: Kushtrimthaqi




- Paulo Zerbato/11



Between


Alone, in my room
i’m looking at my fingers
they’re five,
everything seems normal
except me, i feel kinda lost
tired.

I close my eyes,
my body needs to rest
my brain can’t think,
i shut my light
let it go, i blink,
i pass out.

In the passage of dreams
on that sneaky line
i start to fall,
everything seems strange
except me, i feel scared
i wake up.

I look at my hands
with anxiety and fear
instead of five fingers
my blurred eyes now see six,
i am shocked, terrified
i’m sick.

I close my eyes
only to find out
what was six, became ten
i’m losing it ,
i’m losing it all…
i wake up, i have slept again.




Check the link:







domingo, 19 de maio de 2013

The All Knowing Wisdom

Illustration for the Blog: Mirktma



"Restricted Freedom" - Paulo Zerbato/2011





Restricted Freedom By Paulo Zerbato
In Art on January 14, 2013 at 11:29 pm


This image speaks a thousands words at once. everyone is entitled to have freedom of speech but due to so much restriction the truth is diluted for the public eye.



Check the link:






Choruses From The Rock - T. S. Eliot

Illustration for the Website: Paying Attention To The Sky



"Knowledge Without Wisdom II " - Paulo Zerbato/11



Knowledge without Wisdom, Poster by Paulo Zerbato
“What we call “church” is too often a gathering of strangers who see the church as yet another “helping institution” to gratify further their individual desires. One of the reasons some church members are so mean-spirited with their pastor, particularly when the pastor urges them to look at God, is that they feel deceived by such pastoral invitations to look beyond themselves. They have come to church for “strokes,” to have their personal needs met. What we call church is often a conspiracy of cordiality. Pastors learn to pacify rather than preach to their Ananiases and Sapphiras. We say we do it out of “love.” Usually, we do it as a means of keeping everyone as distant from everyone else as possible. You don’t get into my life and I will not get into yours.”
Stanley Hauerwas, Resident Aliens


We are taught by our secular educational masters that Eliot’s greatest poems were his early, bleak ones: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and The Wasteland. But this, I urge you, Choruses from the Rock, written some seventeen years after “Prufrock” and seven years after Eliot‘s conversion to the Anglican Church is just as worthy a candidate. Here we see Eliot, the older soul in search, who finally found what he was looking for in the Christian Church. Being that I’m pretty old myself, universally acknowledged as downright cranky and am searching in the Catholic Church, this strikes me as a beautiful poem and one of his best.  Read it aloud in your solitary room and see if it doesn’t echo throughout your day:


Choruses from the Rock (1934)

The Eagle soars in the summit of Heaven,
The Hunter with his dogs pursues his circuit.

O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Brings us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.

The lot of man is ceaseless labor,
Or ceaseless idleness, which is still harder,
Or irregular labour, which is not pleasant.
I have trodden the winepress alone, and I know
That it is hard to be really useful, resigning
The things that men count for happiness, seeking
The good deeds that lead to obscurity, accepting
With equal face those that bring ignominy,
The applause of all or the love of none.
All men are ready to invest their money
But most expect dividends.
I say to you: Make perfect your will.
I say: take no thought of the harvest,
But only of proper sowing.

The world turns and the world changes,
But one thing does not change.
In all of my years, one thing does not change,
However you disguise it, this thing does not change:
The perpetual struggle of Good and Evil.

You neglect and belittle the desert.
The desert is not remote in southern tropics
The desert is not only around the corner,
The desert is squeezed in the tube-train next to you,
The desert is in the heart of your brother.

Let me show you the work of the humble. Listen.

In the vacant places
We will build with new bricks

Where the bricks are fallen
We will build with new stone
Where the beams are rotten
We will build with new timbers
Where the word is unspoken
We will build with new speech
There is work together
A Church for all
And a job for each
Every man to his work.

What life have you, if you have not life together?
There is not life that is not in community,
And no community not lived in praise of GOD.

And now you live dispersed on ribbon roads,
And no man knows or cares who is his neighbor
Unless his neighbor makes too much disturbance,
But all dash to and fro in motor cars,
Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.

Much to cast down, much to build, much to restore
I have given you the power of choice, and you only alternate
Between futile speculation and unconsidered action.

And the wind shall say: “Here were decent godless people:
Their only monument the asphalt road
And a thousand lost golf balls.”

When the Stranger says: “What is the meaning of this city ?
Do you huddle close together because you love each other?”
What will you answer? “We all dwell together
To make money from each other”? or “This is a community”?

Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger.
Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions.

There is one who remembers the way to your door:
Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.
You shall not deny the Stranger.

They constantly try to escape
From the darkness outside and within
By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good.
But the man that is shall shadow
The man that pretends to be.

Then it seemed as if men must proceed from light to light, in the light of
the Word,
Through the Passion and Sacrifice saved in spite of their negative being;
Bestial as always before, carnal, self seeking as always before, selfish and
purblind as ever before,
Yet always struggling, always reaffirming, always resuming their march on
the way that was lit by the light;
Often halting, loitering, straying, delaying, returning, yet following no other
way.

But it seems that something has happened that has never happened
before: though we know not just when, or why, or how, or where.
Men have left GOD not for other gods, they say, but for no God; and this has
never happened before
That men both deny gods and worship gods, professing first Reason,
And then Money, and Power, and what they call Life, or Race, or Dialectic.

What have we to do but stand with empty hands and palms turned
upwards in an age which advances progressively backwards?

There came one who spoke of the shame of Jerusalem
And the holy places defiled;
Peter the Hermit, scourging with words.
And among his hearers were a few good men,
Many who were evil,
And most who were neither,
Like all men in all places.

In spite of all the dishonour,
the broken standards, the broken lives,
The broken faith in one place or another,
There was something left that was more than the tales
Of old men on winter evenings.

Our age is an age of moderate virtue
And moderate vice

The soul of Man must quicken to creation.

Out of the meaningless practical shapes of all that is living or
lifeless
Joined with the artist’s eye, new life, new form, new colour.
Out of the sea of sound the life of music,
Out of the slimy mud of words, out of the sleet and hail of verbal
imprecisions,
Approximate thoughts and feelings, words that have taken the
place of thoughts and feelings,
There spring the perfect order of speech, and the beauty of incantation.

The work of creation is never without travail

Light
Light
The visible reminder of Invisible Light.

O Light Invisible, we praise Thee!
Too bright for mortal vision.



Check the link:

http://payingattentiontothesky.com/2013/05/16/choruses-from-the-rock-t-s-eliot/




segunda-feira, 13 de maio de 2013

Our Loved Ones Are Like Constellations

 Phrase by my Friend and Great Poet Edafe Yarhere
(Lagos - Nigeria)



Our loved ones are like Constellations of stars embed in the Sky, they stay forever in our heart. ♥




"Constellation Of Dreams" - Paulo Zerbato/2011







quarta-feira, 8 de maio de 2013

Internet X Copyright


My artworks used in the internet, in Blogs, social networking and other media, without permission or mention the author of the work!

What the Law says about it:
"... Often, it is thought, mistakenly, that any content available on the Internet now belongs to the "public domain" and can be freely used. This is a mistake that has already brought serious problems to people who, through ignorance of the law, illegally appropriated texts, images or other content available on the Internet. More serious still is the appropriation and use of digital products marketable....." 

Text for reflection on the subject:



Please, when you'd like some illustration, and want to use to illustrate some text, poem, messages, etc .... please contact me via email: pszerbato@gmail.com


Some examples of misuse:







"Tree Of Dreams" - Paulo Zerbato/10


"Open Your Mind" - Paulo Zerbato/10




I believe in the principles of Honesty and Respect!!!

Thank you very much!




sexta-feira, 3 de maio de 2013

Art For Self-Expression


My artwork used to illustrate posters to publicize one of charity's art courses.
(London)


"Self-Expression" - Paulo Zerbato/11




Westminster Mind: Fostering hope and empowerment and aiding recovery through effective services, support and information.

Westminster Mind has been working in the City of Westminster since 1971 to make a practical and positive difference to people living locally who have been affected by mental illness.

Westminster Mind is an independent charity affiliated to the national charity, Mind, and meets their national quality standards. The organisation is governed by voluntary trustees who oversee the strategic direction and the running of the charity, and we employ experienced staff who work to high professional standards.

Enabling people affected by mental ill health to lead fulfilling and productive lives by providing services in the community and by working with carers, family members, health and social care professionals and employers.



To find out more about the project, see Westminster Mind's website: http://www.westminstermind.org.uk 

and Portugal Prints' website:
http://www.portugalprints.org.uk - Portugal Prints is a project run By Westminster Mind. 






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