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seanccroberts.bsky.social
#poetry #skypoem #paintree #hopescrolling #art #artsky
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Feb 6
If you're cold, they're cold. If you feel alone, they feel alone. Reach out and bridge the gap. Dealienate. 💙

#poetry #skypoem #paintree #hopescrolling #art #artsky #dealienate
A person in a small boat, on very choppy water, no land visible, under a beautiful orangered sky. Accompanied by the following poem: Sunrise I never meant to land in the water. I’m no sailor, no navigator. Tectonic forces have cast me adrift, the land ran away from me, islands on the horizon receding faster than I could learn to turn a rudder. I lay for ages in the cold doldrums, water turned to lead, air to sulfur, I could not breathe – until, gradual as the dawn, the arrival of these misty storm birds, who pull me forward until I am upright and regain momentum, moving toward the harbor I cannot see but have faith is there beyond the swells. Albatrosses, frigate birds, gulls? I don’t know, or much care. They are my wings, my strength, my sails, this boat, the wind, the waves, as am I, in turn, for them, hoisting each other toward the sunrise. A person in a small boat, on very choppy water, no land visible, under a beautiful orangered sky. Accompanied by the following poem: Sunrise I never meant to land in the water. I’m no sailor, no navigator. Tectonic forces have cast me adrift, the land ran away from me, islands on the horizon receding faster than I could learn to turn a rudder. I lay for ages in the cold doldrums, water turned to lead, air to sulfur, I could not breathe – until, gradual as the dawn, the arrival of these misty storm birds, who pull me forward until I am upright and regain momentum, moving toward the harbor I cannot see but have faith is there beyond the swells. Albatrosses, frigate birds, gulls? I don’t know, or much care. They are my wings, my strength, my sails, this boat, the wind, the waves, as am I, in turn, for them, hoisting each other toward the sunrise. A person in a small boat, on very choppy water, no land visible, under a beautiful orangered sky. Accompanied by the following poem: Sunrise I never meant to land in the water. I’m no sailor, no navigator. Tectonic forces have cast me adrift, the land ran away from me, islands on the horizon receding faster than I could learn to turn a rudder. I lay for ages in the cold doldrums, water turned to lead, air to sulfur, I could not breathe – until, gradual as the dawn, the arrival of these misty storm birds, who pull me forward until I am upright and regain momentum, moving toward the harbor I cannot see but have faith is there beyond the swells. Albatrosses, frigate birds, gulls? I don’t know, or much care. They are my wings, my strength, my sails, this boat, the wind, the waves, as am I, in turn, for them, hoisting each other toward the sunrise.
February 7, 2025 at 2:23 AM
sasssssycatt.bsky.social
#sasssssycatt #twitchstreamer #crafting #crafts #paintingforsale #paintree #painting #paint #paintingart #paintings #flowers #flowerpaintings #paintingsoncanvas #canvaspainting #canvas #canvasartwork #canvasart #canvaspaintings #bycatt #paintingsbycatt #bycat #paintingsbycat
June 18, 2025 at 2:18 AM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Don't let anyone make you feel crazy while they're kicking down doors. It's ok to trust yourself.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Apr 30
There's a huge amount of uncertainty right now. It may turn out that you were wrong, but don't let anyone make you feel crazy.

New @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a closeup of a person's face, half submerged in water, eyes full of tears that have not run out. In the left eye, a tiny figure walks atop the water Accompanied by the following poem: Magician I am a magician. I can do impossible things. I can watch for an eternity without blinking. I can walk on water, at great personal cost. I can tell the truth, even when friends plug their ears so that all they hear me shout is ‘wolf, wolf.’ A painting of a closeup of a person's face, half submerged in water, eyes full of tears that have not run out. In the left eye, a tiny figure walks atop the water Accompanied by the following poem: Magician I am a magician. I can do impossible things. I can watch for an eternity without blinking. I can walk on water, at great personal cost. I can tell the truth, even when friends plug their ears so that all they hear me shout is ‘wolf, wolf.’
May 2, 2025 at 10:24 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Stars lived and died and you and I everything we know are built from their old bones. Decay begets life.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · May 31
You are made of starstuff, lots of it created only when a star dies and explodes.

And look how beautiful you are.

More at www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
Painting of rainbow clouds shaking hands over a rainbow river, cutting through the mountains and empty land away from a red setting sun. Accompanied by the following poem: Nova After a star has lived its life and run out of nuclear spirit, after its atmosphere thins out and its heart falls in upon itself, after it explodes in all colors of the rainbow and beyond, diffuse rivers of its flesh pool and form sunset clouds lightyears across. Atoms from the star, in its grave, encounter each other one by one, maybe with refugees from another stellar wake and shake hands, come together, make rocks and dirt, build houses, and eventually sunflowers. Painting of rainbow clouds shaking hands over a rainbow river, cutting through the mountains and empty land away from a red setting sun. Accompanied by the following poem: Nova After a star has lived its life and run out of nuclear spirit, after its atmosphere thins out and its heart falls in upon itself, after it explodes in all colors of the rainbow and beyond, diffuse rivers of its flesh pool and form sunset clouds lightyears across. Atoms from the star, in its grave, encounter each other one by one, maybe with refugees from another stellar wake and shake hands, come together, make rocks and dirt, build houses, and eventually sunflowers. Painting of rainbow clouds shaking hands over a rainbow river, cutting through the mountains and empty land away from a red setting sun. Accompanied by the following poem: Nova After a star has lived its life and run out of nuclear spirit, after its atmosphere thins out and its heart falls in upon itself, after it explodes in all colors of the rainbow and beyond, diffuse rivers of its flesh pool and form sunset clouds lightyears across. Atoms from the star, in its grave, encounter each other one by one, maybe with refugees from another stellar wake and shake hands, come together, make rocks and dirt, build houses, and eventually sunflowers.
June 1, 2025 at 8:47 PM
carloscarreter.bsky.social
www.instagram.com/p/DRwHXSbCK01/

2025, #paintree #woods #aragon #spain

📷 #leicam6 #leica #m6 #planar50mm #yellowfilter
🎞 #ilfordfp4plus #ilford #fp4plus at #ei200

#filmphotography #believeinfilm #analogphotography #filmisnotdead #hablandoenplata
December 2, 2025 at 7:00 AM
carloscarreter.bsky.social
www.instagram.com/p/DRwHlWzCOVU/

2025, #paintree #woods #aragon #spain

📷 #leicam6 #leica #m6 #planar50mm #yellowfilter
🎞 #ilfordfp4plus #ilford #fp4plus at #ei200

#filmphotography #believeinfilm #analogphotography #filmisnotdead #hablandoenplata
December 2, 2025 at 7:00 AM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
None of us is free unless all of us are free. No kings.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Jun 15
No kings. We inherited a revolution and we will keep it.

New @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a pair of feet in feathery grass, with some small yellow flowers around them. the edges blur. Accompanied by the following poem: Grassroots When they try to rule you, ignore them. When they threaten you, laugh at them. When they shoot at you, belittle them. where they kill you, build a shrine. When they bulldoze that shrine, plant grass and declare that all grass everywhere is now a monument. Every time anyone anywhere stamps its blades with their feet they march with you, with us. A painting of a pair of feet in feathery grass, with some small yellow flowers around them. the edges blur. Accompanied by the following poem: Grassroots When they try to rule you, ignore them. When they threaten you, laugh at them. When they shoot at you, belittle them. where they kill you, build a shrine. When they bulldoze that shrine, plant grass and declare that all grass everywhere is now a monument. Every time anyone anywhere stamps its blades with their feet they march with you, with us. A painting of a pair of feet in feathery grass, with some small yellow flowers around them. the edges blur. Accompanied by the following poem: Grassroots When they try to rule you, ignore them. When they threaten you, laugh at them. When they shoot at you, belittle them. where they kill you, build a shrine. When they bulldoze that shrine, plant grass and declare that all grass everywhere is now a monument. Every time anyone anywhere stamps its blades with their feet they march with you, with us.
June 16, 2025 at 10:32 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
The books are here!!!

On se voit pour le vernissage le 23, vendredi prochain ! See you next Friday the 23rd in #paris for the expo open!

#paintree #artsky #skypoem #france #booksky
A box full of PAINTREE books!
January 15, 2026 at 12:00 AM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Sometimes countries die. Sometimes they are resurrected.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Mar 20
There's a yew tree in Scotland that's thousands of years old. It bends, it breaks, it grows. It's seen the picts, the Romans, the Normans, the empire rise and fall, it will see what happens after all this too.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a ring of branches, with some fresh green leaves entertwined on one side and diffuse ghostly forms on the other. Accompanied by the following text: Yew tree invocation Tree of death, you guide me through sharp nostalgia for a world that has been left far behind in the east. Tree of resurrection, you assure me that an ending is also always a beginning. This fire may burn your bark, but it will yield staves hard and sharp. A painting of a ring of branches, with some fresh green leaves entertwined on one side and diffuse ghostly forms on the other. Accompanied by the following text: Yew tree invocation Tree of death, you guide me through sharp nostalgia for a world that has been left far behind in the east. Tree of resurrection, you assure me that an ending is also always a beginning. This fire may burn your bark, but it will yield staves hard and sharp.
March 22, 2025 at 10:53 PM
carloscarreter.bsky.social
www.instagram.com/p/DRwHepDiHxM/

2025, #paintree #woods #aragon #spain

📷 #leicam6 #leica #m6 #planar50mm #yellowfilter
🎞 #ilfordfp4plus #ilford #fp4plus at #ei200

#filmphotography #believeinfilm #analogphotography #filmisnotdead #hablandoenplata
December 2, 2025 at 7:00 AM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Celebrate weird. Even if it's you. Especially if it's you. The fascists want conformity, make them work for it.

More at www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Mar 27
It's scary to bare your soul, especially right now when all of a sudden it's getting people arrested.

It doesn't have to be in public. Be yourself, and you'll find people who love you for who you are.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a stylized eye, with a blue rose growing in the foreground, merging with the eye so that the iris becomes the flower. Accompanied by the following text: Iris Van Gogh retired from the world and painted flowers, not as they were but as he saw them. In families, in aching color, whole even when broken. The world saw something else in those pictures, and in him. Funny people paint those funny pictures. Don't look too close. I'm afraid of being seen. Of becoming a portrait on someone's wall that I don't recognize. Or worst of all, being shown a mirror. I plan and analyze and overthink so that I will never be caught being human. And yet when I see van Gogh's irises, I don't see flowers, I see a brain - raw, disordered, broken, different, beautiful, powerful. A painting of a stylized eye, with a blue rose growing in the foreground, merging with the eye so that the iris becomes the flower. Accompanied by the following text: Iris Van Gogh retired from the world and painted flowers, not as they were but as he saw them. In families, in aching color, whole even when broken. The world saw something else in those pictures, and in him. Funny people paint those funny pictures. Don't look too close. I'm afraid of being seen. Of becoming a portrait on someone's wall that I don't recognize. Or worst of all, being shown a mirror. I plan and analyze and overthink so that I will never be caught being human. And yet when I see van Gogh's irises, I don't see flowers, I see a brain - raw, disordered, broken, different, beautiful, powerful. A painting of a stylized eye, with a blue rose growing in the foreground, merging with the eye so that the iris becomes the flower. Accompanied by the following text: Iris Van Gogh retired from the world and painted flowers, not as they were but as he saw them. In families, in aching color, whole even when broken. The world saw something else in those pictures, and in him. Funny people paint those funny pictures. Don't look too close. I'm afraid of being seen. Of becoming a portrait on someone's wall that I don't recognize. Or worst of all, being shown a mirror. I plan and analyze and overthink so that I will never be caught being human. And yet when I see van Gogh's irises, I don't see flowers, I see a brain - raw, disordered, broken, different, beautiful, powerful.
March 30, 2025 at 9:24 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Too much going on. Let it out, at least some of it.

#poetry #poem #skypoem #art #painting #artsky #hopescrolling #paintree
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Feb 26
I might be going crazy. I wrote it down and drew it and i feel better now. Get the bad feelings out, no one has to see it but if you want to share, comment or quote here!

#poetry #poem #skypoem #art #painting #artsky #hopescrolling #paintree
A painting of a person having Big Thoughts, they're making them close their eyes and scrunch their face up a little, and escaping in vast, bright tendrils where their hair should be. Accompanied by the following poem: i’ve gotten a little older lately and i can’t see as far ahead as i used to and that bothers me because in the fog i start seeing shapes and those shapes look like dead ends but in the end it’s just my pattern-seeking brain trying to find the worst-case possibilities and try to avoid them and sadly there’s nothing i can do to clear the fog or light the way or even unsee the things in the gloom but one thing i can do is eat my strawberries and pet the two-headed calf while counting the stars by their ancient light in the night’s great dome and another thing i can do is understand that even while this world might be ending to one degree or possibly another the ending will not last and there will be another world and if i make it there by the glory of any god that exists or is imagined in it i will find a way to love it and celebrate its magic and even here in this world between however long it lasts i will find the beauty and fun however well hidden because there is a difference between dying and dead and while change is frightening it has a second face which is possibility and hope is seeing that second face whenever i feel the presence of the first and that is the balance that allows me to greet the sun again as it rises against all imagined odds over the day’s new world. A painting of a person having Big Thoughts, they're making them close their eyes and scrunch their face up a little, and escaping in vast, bright tendrils where their hair should be. Accompanied by the following poem: i’ve gotten a little older lately and i can’t see as far ahead as i used to and that bothers me because in the fog i start seeing shapes and those shapes look like dead ends but in the end it’s just my pattern-seeking brain trying to find the worst-case possibilities and try to avoid them and sadly there’s nothing i can do to clear the fog or light the way or even unsee the things in the gloom but one thing i can do is eat my strawberries and pet the two-headed calf while counting the stars by their ancient light in the night’s great dome and another thing i can do is understand that even while this world might be ending to one degree or possibly another the ending will not last and there will be another world and if i make it there by the glory of any god that exists or is imagined in it i will find a way to love it and celebrate its magic and even here in this world between however long it lasts i will find the beauty and fun however well hidden because there is a difference between dying and dead and while change is frightening it has a second face which is possibility and hope is seeing that second face whenever i feel the presence of the first and that is the balance that allows me to greet the sun again as it rises against all imagined odds over the day’s new world. A painting of a person having Big Thoughts, they're making them close their eyes and scrunch their face up a little, and escaping in vast, bright tendrils where their hair should be. Accompanied by the following poem: i’ve gotten a little older lately and i can’t see as far ahead as i used to and that bothers me because in the fog i start seeing shapes and those shapes look like dead ends but in the end it’s just my pattern-seeking brain trying to find the worst-case possibilities and try to avoid them and sadly there’s nothing i can do to clear the fog or light the way or even unsee the things in the gloom but one thing i can do is eat my strawberries and pet the two-headed calf while counting the stars by their ancient light in the night’s great dome and another thing i can do is understand that even while this world might be ending to one degree or possibly another the ending will not last and there will be another world and if i make it there by the glory of any god that exists or is imagined in it i will find a way to love it and celebrate its magic and even here in this world between however long it lasts i will find the beauty and fun however well hidden because there is a difference between dying and dead and while change is frightening it has a second face which is possibility and hope is seeing that second face whenever i feel the presence of the first and that is the balance that allows me to greet the sun again as it rises against all imagined odds over the day’s new world.
March 4, 2025 at 11:10 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
#poetry #skypoem #hopescrolling #paintree #art #artsky
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Jan 15
From '17 to '21, reading the news felt like inviting a whole nest of hornets inside my skull. I'd forgotten but I'm starting to remember! Anyone have any thoughts on how to handle the constant noise?

NOISE, new poem and drawing on www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #hopescrolling #art #artsky
We appear to be inside a vehicle, driving through woods that look kind of unhealthy. Orange noise fills the air. This poem follows: NOISE I'm driving out of town and the radio starts going fuzzy. At first the words and measures are softened, but then they begin to drown in droning chaos. I change the channel and clear the air. But the buzz creeps back, faster now, filling my head, even at rest stops there is no respite from the constant orange noise. It feels like a bomb has gone off and filled the airwaves. An invasion of a thousand people inside my head shouting GOOD! and EVIL! even when the car is quiet. I thought I would know better by now, after all these years. I should know when to tune out, to jump out of the car and run through the dark green woods until I become human again before turning that machine back on. But I don't. It demands my attention and I give it. I'm not adapted to living through the making of history. And I suppose I am grateful to know that the noise has not yet made me deaf. That I have not lost my capacity for horror. And that I can still make myself turn the dial, and search for signal. We appear to be inside a vehicle, driving through woods that look kind of unhealthy. Orange noise fills the air. This poem follows: NOISE I'm driving out of town and the radio starts going fuzzy. At first the words and measures are softened, but then they begin to drown in droning chaos. I change the channel and clear the air. But the buzz creeps back, faster now, filling my head, even at rest stops there is no respite from the constant orange noise. It feels like a bomb has gone off and filled the airwaves. An invasion of a thousand people inside my head shouting GOOD! and EVIL! even when the car is quiet. I thought I would know better by now, after all these years. I should know when to tune out, to jump out of the car and run through the dark green woods until I become human again before turning that machine back on. But I don't. It demands my attention and I give it. I'm not adapted to living through the making of history. And I suppose I am grateful to know that the noise has not yet made me deaf. That I have not lost my capacity for horror. And that I can still make myself turn the dial, and search for signal. We appear to be inside a vehicle, driving through woods that look kind of unhealthy. Orange noise fills the air. This poem follows: NOISE I'm driving out of town and the radio starts going fuzzy. At first the words and measures are softened, but then they begin to drown in droning chaos. I change the channel and clear the air. But the buzz creeps back, faster now, filling my head, even at rest stops there is no respite from the constant orange noise. It feels like a bomb has gone off and filled the airwaves. An invasion of a thousand people inside my head shouting GOOD! and EVIL! even when the car is quiet. I thought I would know better by now, after all these years. I should know when to tune out, to jump out of the car and run through the dark green woods until I become human again before turning that machine back on. But I don't. It demands my attention and I give it. I'm not adapted to living through the making of history. And I suppose I am grateful to know that the noise has not yet made me deaf. That I have not lost my capacity for horror. And that I can still make myself turn the dial, and search for signal.
January 19, 2025 at 8:38 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Hello #artsky, #skypoem, #booksky, associated skies,

Our project PAINTREE is complete and we will show selected works as well as books at Caverne d'Art&Miss in Paris from 23 jan to 13 feb. Dana and I have poured our whole souls into this for a year and we're real proud of the result. Come say hi!
Flyer for PAINTREE exhibition, 23 jan - 13 feb at galerie la caverne d'art&miss, 23-25 rue saint paul, paris france
January 4, 2026 at 3:04 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Part 2

#art #artsky #skypoem #paintree
seanccroberts.bsky.social chùi @seanccroberts.bsky.social · Jan 30
Some of the finished pieces for PAINTREE (part 2). Don't squint too hard, the poems are replicated in the alt text haha.

Acrylic and print on board. Some pieces have been sold, some are available. DM me, will ship internationally.

#artsky #skypoem #paintree
A painting of an eye with a blue flower covering/duplicating the iris, with the following text written around it: Iris Van Gogh retired from the world and painted flowers, not as they were but as he saw them. In families, in aching color, whole even when broken. The world saw something else in those pictures, and in him. Funny people paint those funny pictures. Don't look too close. I'm afraid of being seen. Of becoming a portrait on someone's wall that I don't recognize. Or worst of all, being shown a mirror. I plan and analyze and overthink so that I will never be caught being human. And yet when I see van Gogh's irises, I don't see flowers, I see a brain - raw, disordered, broken, different, beautiful, powerful. A picture a person with their eyes closed and face tilted up, clouds around their head, and colorful houses in those clouds, with the following text written around it: Dwelling You can never step in the same river twice. We cannot go home but that doesn't mean we can't see it, far downstream. When this fever breaks we will build a new home, one of stone and brick and hands. I walk through these dark woods with my head in the clouds, dreaming of home. A small house on top of a bright hill, with the door and windows open and clouds entering or exiting through them, with the following text written around it: Game Sometimes I read too many abstractions and the house fills with thunderheads. You force me outside into the blue and green and I remember that bad news needn't eclipse. — Sometimes the street fills with smoke and we usher friends, strangers in. We draw the curtains and, maybe quietly, pour the wine, play a game. A painting of a very close up of a person's face, submerged up to the eyes in water, the eyes welling with tears and inside the left eye a small shadow walking. The following text is written around it: Magician I am a magician. I can do impossible things. I can watch for an eternity without blinking. I can walk on water, at great personal cost. I can tell the truth, even when friends plug their ears so that all they hear me shout is ‘wolf, wolf.’
February 11, 2026 at 10:47 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
There's a whole lot going on, balls get dropped, np it's a good opportunity to decide if they're worth picking up again or not

(Art is always worth picking back up)

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Aug 10
Hello lovelies, out here trying to boost morale but mine bottomed out in July. But we're getting back on that horse!

Things are tough, be beautiful when you can, it makes such a difference.

www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a person in a yellow dress floating in the air, their hair turning to clouds, the clouds raining rainbows, their fingers and toes turning into long roots. Accompanied by the following poem: Guerrilla gardening in fallow fields Just because your roots have been pulled from the ground washed clean and rubbed smooth doesn't mean they aren't still green. Freedom’s just another way of saying you made someone mad you're the witch, made to live in the forest’s edge, out of sight but close enough to find when they need your frightening knowledge. Grow your hair, grow wings, draw a pale map in the night and follow it until you can’t go a furlong farther and there, in the air, create a space where rainbows embrace like snakes on a staff of restoration. A painting of a person in a yellow dress floating in the air, their hair turning to clouds, the clouds raining rainbows, their fingers and toes turning into long roots. Accompanied by the following poem: Guerrilla gardening in fallow fields Just because your roots have been pulled from the ground washed clean and rubbed smooth doesn't mean they aren't still green. Freedom’s just another way of saying you made someone mad you're the witch, made to live in the forest’s edge, out of sight but close enough to find when they need your frightening knowledge. Grow your hair, grow wings, draw a pale map in the night and follow it until you can’t go a furlong farther and there, in the air, create a space where rainbows embrace like snakes on a staff of restoration. A painting of a person in a yellow dress floating in the air, their hair turning to clouds, the clouds raining rainbows, their fingers and toes turning into long roots. Accompanied by the following poem: Guerrilla gardening in fallow fields Just because your roots have been pulled from the ground washed clean and rubbed smooth doesn't mean they aren't still green. Freedom’s just another way of saying you made someone mad you're the witch, made to live in the forest’s edge, out of sight but close enough to find when they need your frightening knowledge. Grow your hair, grow wings, draw a pale map in the night and follow it until you can’t go a furlong farther and there, in the air, create a space where rainbows embrace like snakes on a staff of restoration.
August 26, 2025 at 10:26 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
#poem #poetry #paintree #art #artsky #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Feb 19
When the world is falling down, build something, make something, anything at all.

#poetry #poem #skypoem #paintree #hopescrolling #art #artsky
A figure holds a tiny seedling in their hands, their eyes closed. The seedling washes the entire scene in orange light. Accompanied by the following poem: Even as it breaks It’s so easy to break things - trust, a heart, a nation. So much more work to build. It’s easy to get sad and feel helpless. It’s easy to get angry and want to break something back. It’s difficult when your ears are filled with the sound of shattering to hear the blackbird sing or to look up and see the trees’ fingers. The hurt is designed to make you feel blind. Wipe the blood from your eyes and take a moment to notice everything even as it breaks a seed becomes a burning sun take the time dissention to love some- thing and make it grow A figure holds a tiny seedling in their hands, their eyes closed. The seedling washes the entire scene in orange light. Accompanied by the following poem: Even as it breaks It’s so easy to break things - trust, a heart, a nation. So much more work to build. It’s easy to get sad and feel helpless. It’s easy to get angry and want to break something back. It’s difficult when your ears are filled with the sound of shattering to hear the blackbird sing or to look up and see the trees’ fingers. The hurt is designed to make you feel blind. Wipe the blood from your eyes and take a moment to notice everything even as it breaks a seed becomes a burning sun take the time dissention to love some- thing and make it grow A figure holds a tiny seedling in their hands, their eyes closed. The seedling washes the entire scene in orange light. Accompanied by the following poem: Even as it breaks It’s so easy to break things - trust, a heart, a nation. So much more work to build. It’s easy to get sad and feel helpless. It’s easy to get angry and want to break something back. It’s difficult when your ears are filled with the sound of shattering to hear the blackbird sing or to look up and see the trees’ fingers. The hurt is designed to make you feel blind. Wipe the blood from your eyes and take a moment to notice everything even as it breaks a seed becomes a burning sun take the time dissention to love some- thing and make it grow
February 20, 2025 at 1:18 AM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Truer today than it was on Wednesday 🙃🙃🙃

www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
June 22, 2025 at 10:34 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Your thoughts and feelings are valid and someone needs to hear or read them. Even if that someone is just you.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Jun 8
Let it out. Share it with a friend or a journal or the universe but pour it out. Verbalizing is organizing.

(Maybe think 2x before sharing it on the internet today.)

New @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
Painting of a figure mostly submerged in water, which appears to be following from their long hair, in front of a spiraling sky, which is also flowing from their hair. Accompanied by the following poem: Flow Let the thoughts flow from you. Let them fill the page, or rush down the drain. Whisper to allies or shout to the starry night. Empty your vessel. Spill them like tears until they cover the land and wash it. You will not drown – you will surge downstream across the flooded plain, they will become your river, and you, its naiad. Painting of a figure mostly submerged in water, which appears to be following from their long hair, in front of a spiraling sky, which is also flowing from their hair. Accompanied by the following poem: Flow Let the thoughts flow from you. Let them fill the page, or rush down the drain. Whisper to allies or shout to the starry night. Empty your vessel. Spill them like tears until they cover the land and wash it. You will not drown – you will surge downstream across the flooded plain, they will become your river, and you, its naiad.
June 8, 2025 at 9:29 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Art is resistance. Joy is resistance. Steal your own joy back wherever you can.

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Apr 27
When inside is too much, go outside.
When outside is too much, go inside. Bring your loved ones.

new @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a bright yellow house with fluffy clouds streaming out the doors and windows on all levels. Against a hazy blue sky and on a fuzzy green hill. Accompanied by the following text: Game Sometimes I read too many abstractions and the house fills with thunderheads. You force me outside into the blue and green and I remember that bad news needn't eclipse. — Sometimes the street fills with smoke and we usher friends, strangers in. We draw the curtains and, maybe quietly, pour the wine, play a game. A painting of a bright yellow house with fluffy clouds streaming out the doors and windows on all levels. Against a hazy blue sky and on a fuzzy green hill. Accompanied by the following text: Game Sometimes I read too many abstractions and the house fills with thunderheads. You force me outside into the blue and green and I remember that bad news needn't eclipse. — Sometimes the street fills with smoke and we usher friends, strangers in. We draw the curtains and, maybe quietly, pour the wine, play a game.
April 28, 2025 at 9:34 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Woman, life, freedom, zan, zendigi, aazaadi. Yes solidarity, also we need those words ourselves.

New @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · Jun 27
Zan, zendigi, aazaadi.
Woman, life, freedom.

Ihn jang ro nemikhaahim. We don't want this war.

New @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A painting of a human heart on a dark green background. From the valves of the heart sprout lush green stems and leaves. Accompanied by the following poem: deletun zabaanetun-e, zabaanetun shehr-e your heart is your language, your language is a poem My soul. I say. How is your health? It is not raining rain, you reply. My heart is restless, you say. Mine too, I admit. I have been blue all day. Did your heart not want peace? you ask. The heart did, I say, the mouth wanted something else. We don’t send our best to lead us, I say. From heart to heart, there is a path, you agree. I am without words. I conclude: I hope that this will end without more suffering. May my place be green, you say. May my place be green, I respond. A painting of a human heart on a dark green background. From the valves of the heart sprout lush green stems and leaves. Accompanied by the following poem: deletun zabaanetun-e, zabaanetun shehr-e your heart is your language, your language is a poem My soul. I say. How is your health? It is not raining rain, you reply. My heart is restless, you say. Mine too, I admit. I have been blue all day. Did your heart not want peace? you ask. The heart did, I say, the mouth wanted something else. We don’t send our best to lead us, I say. From heart to heart, there is a path, you agree. I am without words. I conclude: I hope that this will end without more suffering. May my place be green, you say. May my place be green, I respond.
June 29, 2025 at 8:40 PM
sasssssycatt.bsky.social
#sasssssycatt #twitchstreamer #crafting #crafts #paintingforsale #paintree #painting #paint #paintingart #paintings #flowers #flowerpaintings #fieldsofflowers #paintingsoncanvas #canvaspainting #canvas #canvasart #canvaspaintings #rockpaintings #Forest #trees #flower #bycatt #paintingsbycatt #catt
June 18, 2025 at 2:08 AM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Fuck "AI"

that is all

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
handle.invalid PAINTREE @handle.invalid · May 7
I'm upset about soulless "content" being flogged as art. It sucks and hopefully it's not here forever. But even if it is, they can never make us believe the lie that it's valuable.

New @ www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
A person with their eyes closed sitting on the ground, leaning forward over their knees. their back from the crown of their heads to the end of the spine is covered in gears, the teeth biting deep into flesh, and their arms and legs are bound together. Accompanied by the following poem: Automata I automated cotton milling then I automated knitting I automated horses then automated auto making I automated chess and checkers and automatically read the news I automated chicken and pork and automatically supersized you I automated entertainment before I automated art I automated music and I automated this poem I automated learning I automated conversation I automated relationships especially transactions. I automated life and I automated love I automated automation And what was left? sleeping and shitting eating and gristle horror and the wrath of god - and cleaning up the messes the robots keep making A person with their eyes closed sitting on the ground, leaning forward over their knees. their back from the crown of their heads to the end of the spine is covered in gears, the teeth biting deep into flesh, and their arms and legs are bound together. Accompanied by the following poem: Automata I automated cotton milling then I automated knitting I automated horses then automated auto making I automated chess and checkers and automatically read the news I automated chicken and pork and automatically supersized you I automated entertainment before I automated art I automated music and I automated this poem I automated learning I automated conversation I automated relationships especially transactions. I automated life and I automated love I automated automation And what was left? sleeping and shitting eating and gristle horror and the wrath of god - and cleaning up the messes the robots keep making A person with their eyes closed sitting on the ground, leaning forward over their knees. their back from the crown of their heads to the end of the spine is covered in gears, the teeth biting deep into flesh, and their arms and legs are bound together. Accompanied by the following poem: Automata I automated cotton milling then I automated knitting I automated horses then automated auto making I automated chess and checkers and automatically read the news I automated chicken and pork and automatically supersized you I automated entertainment before I automated art I automated music and I automated this poem I automated learning I automated conversation I automated relationships especially transactions. I automated life and I automated love I automated automation And what was left? sleeping and shitting eating and gristle horror and the wrath of god - and cleaning up the messes the robots keep making A person with their eyes closed sitting on the ground, leaning forward over their knees. their back from the crown of their heads to the end of the spine is covered in gears, the teeth biting deep into flesh, and their arms and legs are bound together. Accompanied by the following poem: Automata I automated cotton milling then I automated knitting I automated horses then automated auto making I automated chess and checkers and automatically read the news I automated chicken and pork and automatically supersized you I automated entertainment before I automated art I automated music and I automated this poem I automated learning I automated conversation I automated relationships especially transactions. I automated life and I automated love I automated automation And what was left? sleeping and shitting eating and gristle horror and the wrath of god - and cleaning up the messes the robots keep making
May 10, 2025 at 11:02 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
This weekend I've made about a hundred little sketches with coffee as decorations for an art exhibition (my first one!!), which will open on Friday. The show's in paris, but the works are all on our site at www.paintree.art - if you're near paris though come say hi!!
PAINTREE
www.paintree.art
January 18, 2026 at 5:29 PM
seanccroberts.bsky.social
Just because it's really fucking hard doesn't mean it's not worth it. Keep going.

www.paintree.art

#poem #skypoem #poetry #art #artist #artsky #painting #paintree #hopescrolling
June 11, 2025 at 10:36 PM