Tag Archives: rabbits

I WILL KEEP DANCING: Grace. Happy Mother’s Day to my little boy.


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Filed under and angels, art, books, children, cool stuff, diary, duality, dysfunction, enlightenment/spirit, existentialism, film, imperfection, life, love, mental illness, MUSIKKKKK, nature, people, photography, poetry, random, sadness, saints, saints, sinners, and angels, sinners, stupidity, The Good Life, Uncategorized

2014 in Review: Saints and Sinners (janice j. cunningham)

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 8,600 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Do you like art and the creative process? Does the “eccentric” life of the “typical” artist intrigue you? Scare you? Amuse you? Inspire you? Read on…

Allo allo!

I would like to cordially invite you to join my ARTISTS’ group on Facebook:


It is a private, invitation-only group,  but if you request membership, an admin will approve you as long as you’re not a bot.

Not only do I post my own work and artistic musings, as well as upcoming shows and #contemporary #art news, but I have SO MANY uber-talented friends worldwide, whose work I love to share with the public every day.

You could be one of them! All art is the soul, ergo beautiful.

So far the group has almost 4k  (!!! — so grateful) members, so if you would like to either be a voyeur or an exhibitionist, please be my guest.

To me, my readers and followers are all VIPs.

Try it out and see if you like it…you can always leave! Ain’t no Hotel California, lol…

Feel free to also follow me on #Twittter: @jjgrape.

(I heretofore take no responsibility for any profanities or insanities contained therein. Twitter is fun! No rules. Just what we painters like best.)  😀

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OPHELIA SWIMS. 2013. Oil, gold leaf, tears, and poppy dust on wood. 18x24

It’s my happy place — besides the library, the easel, or in front of my iMac. 🙂

Above are a few samplings of my paintings, but this group is dedicated to sharing the work of my many artist friends from all around the globe: a virtual #gallery of sorts! What fun.

(But it is strictly bring your own wine and cheese… 😦  Sincere apologies. Hehe.)



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Filed under and angels, art, books, children, cool stuff, diary, duality, dysfunction, enlightenment/spirit, existentialism, film, food/recipes, humor, imperfection, life, love, mental illness, MUSIKKKKK, nature, painting, people, photography, poetry, prose, rabbits, random, sadness, saints, sinners, smokin", stupidity, The Good Life

painted into ether (she never DID find that reason)

She found a pristine paintbrush and painted her half of the portrait out, easily and without any thought.  In its stead, she painted an azure cloudless sky.  And three white rabbits, one sitting on his shoulder.  His strange, absent gaze fell upon the creature now instead of upon her upturned nose.

In the sky, where clouds might have have been floating aimlessly by on any given day, she scrawled two simple words in violet cursive:

Good Bye.

She caught a fleeting whiff of fresh cut lilacs, turned her back on the painting , and walked into the waning sunlight of an early summer evening, extinguishing a white candle on her way.

Free from the confines of desire, she happily hopped far, far away. (THE JIG OF LIFE, one half of diptych. 8×10, oil on canvas. 2012.)

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give me a reason to love you


“It appears my brain has been left behind in dreamtime,”
she said sleepily, to the empty house that held her like a baby bird.
The chimney swifts that had taken up residence in the flue of her fireplace
chirped their too-cheerful agreement.
She downed hot cup of Eight O’Clock French roast,  number three.
Immunity had set in to her last remaining vice.
Save for cigarettes.
Damned devil sticks were next on the list, but not just yet.
Tethers to this earthly plane, they were.  Veritable strings on a floaty red balloon.
A strange and lovely silent tsunami was rolling in.
Slowlyquickly, in stop motion, each second of the rolling monster
a separate sepia-colored print on faded and torn photo paper.
From a great distance, yes,
but the tide
was all-powerful nonetheless. She welcomed it, yearned for it,
arms open wide.
Anything to be engulfed. Anything.
She waited.   Painting, drawing, not sleeping, sleeping in fits, crying, listening to birds, painting, watching rabbits in the yard, feeding peanuts to squirrels, painting, missing the dead, crying, laughing, feeling too much.
Smoking, feeling nothing.  Then back. Bungee jumping of the  most uncomfortable yet beautiful kind. She waited until the bungee cord was stretched so far that she could see the tiny expressions on the carpenter ants’ shiny black faces, looks of shock and surprise at the giant human falling out of their sky.
Only then, THEN, she would snap back. BACKBACKBACK.  Sometimes it was almost too late.
A coma here, some morphine there, a miracle baby, a few teeth knocked out, a charred limb or two.
But snap back she did.
So far.

She anticipated the arrival of the silently roaring tidal wave with quiet yet barely suppressed joy.
Inside the breaking curl of salt and sea was the quantum plane she sought.
Timelessness. No-time. Dreamtime.

Snapping out of her reverie, she placed the empty coffee cup in the sink and glanced at her watch.
Glinting in the sunshine, the tiny gold numbers
suddenly made no sense to her.

Losing her mind was not something that frightened her any longer these days.
She half-assumed it was already long gone anyway.
Things were different now, though.
She was Somebody’s Mother.

“It’s all good. It’s all good. It’s all good….”

Without further thought, she changed into her camos and a flowered tank top, washed her face, and went outside to work.

She bent over her drafting table, sketching a small black cat.

“Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death…”
Maybe if she said this THAT MANY TIMES,
she and her son would be okay.
It worked in the big city at the convent, all alone.

If only she said it THAT MANY TIMES.

That many times that many times that many times.

Maybe it would work here too.

THE THINKER. 2007. Gouache on paper, 5×7. Sold. Collection Jackson Zimmerman, PA.

Just give me a reason to love you, and I will stay.  Better yet, give me a reason to love me.
JJC                           Cleveland, Ohio   6.04.2012


BAD KITTY II. 2008. Prismacolor on paper, 7×9.


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iBunny 2011

iBunny. 2011. Acrylic on paper, 12x15.

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How To Fight Loneliness, Part II.

Mr. Greaves II. 2011. Oil on canvas, 24 x36.

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What Mama Forgot to Tell You About ETIQUETTE. :O



 Mama done fo’got ta tell me…OH, SNAP!

    Classic…simply classic.

A DEFINITE DATING "DON'T". Just saying'.

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clandestine rabbit activity

POKER BUNNIES. 2003. oil on wood. SOLD, collection Robert Eaton, IA.

Note that they are playing for carrots!!


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a drink and a smoke makes the laughing part easier

Mr. Greaves. 2009, oil on canvas. 18x24.

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