madness woman nude artfromsoul acrylic painting


© Sandra Pelly, 2015, All Rights Reserved,
Acrylic on paper, A4 size

Reference: beautiful and inspiring fetishfaerie-stock Nude Abstract VII by fetishfaerie-stock

I dont expect you to understand, or to begin to understand. I just want to claw myself out of my own skin, hurt myself and stop watching my sanity disappear.  I pack everything in this little box under the lock and key hoping it would magically go away and it doesnt.  I keep quiet, dont talk, pretend to be alive for last few that matter...

I am sorry if i dont answer things right away... I am just too much in the dark place, instead of getting out i just burried myself deeper while pretending that everything is all right, because no one understands... All these things inside of me, are eating me alive, I Dont even know what is left...

aerfromsoul empty depression acrylic painting nude female woman



© Sandra Pelly, 2015, All Rights Reserved,
Acrylic on paper, A4 size

Reference: beautiful and inspiring fetishfaerie-stock

Listening to: Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven

This piece is an entry for the What it's Like contest at mental-health.

I often feel empty, void of everything.  I should feel something sometimes, but it has been all wiped away by the tide full of sadness, and inner conflict.  I should smile instead having default sad face as my husband calls it, even my daughters have it.  I should smile now and then, however that is all empty deep void, that cannot be filled.  The sadness frequently oozes of walls, while I cuddle pillow instead of my daughters.  I go through chaos every day,, I just walk through it, not even flinching.  Everything became just automatic, even singing with my daughters... Its just singing, its just cooking, its just cleaning, its just a walk.  It is all empty.

Dedicated to someone I knew for 40 years, since I was born, who was lifted week and a bit ago by the strong northern wind Bura, tossed 10m away against the fence, and is now in hospital in coma.  I hope that you do come through Teta Bistra.  I miss you.  I remember all the times our families spent together while I was growing up, you teaching in primary school, teaching drama club, the summers and beach, and always a kind smile from you.   I need you to pull through because life should not be extinguished just like that, with the strong "reful" of Bura.  Thank you for making strong impact on my life and my childhood.  I am honoured to have walked at least part of the path with you.  You have left a huge mark on my life and helped shape who I am.

bura aquaduct roman dalmatia croatia sandra pelly art painting acrylic


Where I grew up there were two kinds of winds one soft, warm, bringing rain, big waves on sea, that is southerly or Jugo, and there is northern wind, cold, clensing, most of the time without rain with bright skies called Bura.  Bura is violent, wild, uproots trees, tips over cars, lifts people on street up in air, it covers the sea with the white sheets of sea mist. For some strange reason people back home live and die by the winds.  My sister was born when it was strong Jugo, so strong electricity went out, while most of the men die from heart giving up when it turns to Bura.  It clears those just holding onto life.  Bura cleanses streets, sea, making everything crystal clear, even it clears mind, soul, while Jugo does opposite, it murkies waters, brings rain, stirs up mud and sand with its big waves, and piles of crap pile up on beach.  Bura blows it all away.People argue on Jugo, get grumpy, it weighs them down, while Bura gives them a lift. It gets nasty when it is Bura with rain, it turns to ice, freezing and wiping everything in its path.  When I was younger we once had Bura so strong it froze all steel electric poles, chewed them up and spun them onto themselves.  We were out of electricity for a month.

I have a lot of ghosts chasing me, waiting behind the rocks and crevices, and I am waiting for Bura to clense them away.  I need to be clensed, taken away in a storm.  I used to enjoy standing on end of the pier waiting for the wind to try to lift me, to lean into it and trust its strong arms to hold me without falling,  I enjoyed it freezing my face, brushing through my hair, watching the sea mist and rain slowly eat at my cheeks, feeling as ice needles. I need it to clense my past, my soul. I need to be uplifted again, uprooted, wiped clean as it cleans the streets, as it preserves some of the past it finds important.

I really do not know how to else explain the thought process with this painting.  It went though many stages then one day I found it smeared in olive green by my 2 year old. Yes Stella attacked again while I was getting cup of coffee. And then I saw my past, holding me back in a lot of ways, and I prayed for Bura to come and blow the ghosts away, take away the voices, the whispers, cries, to freeze them as it did to electric poles while back, so they dont come back. The struggle inside my head is sometimes too much for me to bear, I look for quiet shelter, and there is none.  I need my roots cut away so I can fly again.


Reference: Daniel Mandic

gredlin acrylic painting finch bird sandra pelly art artist



© Sandra Pelly, 2015, All Rights Reserved,
Acrylic, marker, pencil and flat cealing white on paper, A4 size

I Do not know if I should post this.  Ido sketches now and then, not always landscapes and nudes, but experiment and what I learn I try to use it.. Also I Do not know what you call this bird in English but in my dialect its Grdelin.

My dad had grdelins all my life, I think all his life as well.  They catch them while they are still young in nest.  His one is always called Cico.  He keeps it on balcony in summer and in living room in winter.  He feeds him, gives him water looks after him and talks to him.  I dont agree with them keeping him in this tiny cage , but I guess its part of tradition.  When ever I think of my dad i think of Cico.  He was part of me growing up, I listened to his song every day untill I spread my wings and left.

sandra pelly art painting nude justmeina male man second comming


© Sandra Pelly, 2015, All Rights Reserved,
Acrylic and tissue on card stock, A4 size
Reference:  :iconjustmeina:
I didnt paint justmeina in years.  To be honest I paint male figure once in a blue moon, and always struggle with them  because they are so angular.

Inspired by:

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)


    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?