Victoria Sebanz

Upcoming Art Events

admin — Wed, 19 May 2010 06:15:21 +0000

“In Visible Woman” A solo art show for the month of June, 2010

Opening Saturday June 5, 2010 7-10pm…Come Join Us!

(photography, poetry, and mixed media) by Victoria Sebanz

At the Rumor Mill, an intimate coffee house gallery

11739 West Washington Blvd.

Los Angeles Ca 90066

310 397-5400

Information also on Artslant.com

under The Rumor Mill and Victoria Sebanz

September: Work will be at The Folk Tree in Pasadena CA, more information to come

October: Work will be on display at the Brewery LA CA, more information to come.

Nesting

admin — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 03:27:40 +0000

Nesting is number 4 in the body series (Sacred Land, My House-My Skin, Hot-House Flower and She is My Tattoo having had their respective gestations and births long ago)

The materials continue to evolve as does the piece. Eucalyptus tree bark is the most important material….it serves as her flesh.(It was also used in Tree Spirits Singing).

I love to use this because it is like human skin, many-layered and sheer. Nesting indicates and honors the beauty of pregnancy and gestation itself.

This piece is inspired by my daughter, an amazing woman and mother.

When God was a Woman

admin — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 03:02:45 +0000

This 3 layered piece was completed last year and received great response. Here is the completed image before being housed in its floating frame.

I am working on my newest die cut….almost finished….

admin — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 04:38:14 +0000

It is inspired by the book “When God was a Woman”
…layers form history, fallacious history…read the book!

Hurray!!

admin — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 23:48:37 +0000

I have just created my first artwork for the week. “Shadow Dancers”
Die Cut …………….water color, archival ink……….and yes I used scissors!!
My miniature version of Shadow Dancers is painted on a light bulb(!). It’s part of the Lights on LA public art project at Pershing Square, Jul 15-Sept 18, and is presented by the Tarryn Teresa Gallery.

In Visible Woman

admin — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 02:51:10 +0000

I will
Never be invisible again
No more a distant echo
Of your twisted imaginings
I am rooted beyond brain and bone
And in
Welcoming this synaptic discourse
I will
Lament no memory forgotten
Wrapped in the intrinsic, beautiful madness
Of my spirit dancing
I will
Be forever so much more than moving flesh and sound
I am rooted yet unbound
In stillness more than my silhouette
Dark yet visible
I am found
I remember me

She Always Ran

admin — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 05:30:30 +0000

She always ran but never left
And I only heard the hurt without hearing the reasons
The season came and went for me to listen
The leaves fell at my feet
I didn’t notice the colors
I forgot the timbre of her voice and the brightness of her smile
That beckoned stay with me, be my love of a lifetime
Dance with me awhile
I didn’t notice the colors
That floated in her eyes
Kaleidoscoping brightly
In the quickness of her mind
I forgot her fear and replaced it with mine
And couldn’t listen, wouldn’t listen
I ran out of time
I replaced her
With others of a watercoloured hue
Wanting only to preserve
My point of view
And I found the palette wanting
Still not knowing what to do
I’d forgotten how to listen to both her and myself
And couldn’t listen, wouldn’t listen
Put us both upon the shelf
I didn’t notice the colors her asking fingers drew
As they trailed upon my chest and lips
(She kissed my eyelids too)
I couldn’t see the colors blur
In her last goodbye
Her heart had been in love alone
I forgot the reasons why

Women are the Weavers

admin — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 04:03:17 +0000

Women are the weavers of stories and lives
And a woman can see in another woman’s eyes
To the depth of a heart and a soul in seed
In the want, in the joy, in the cry in need

Heart honed as the fingers of a fleshless sigh
To the visceral laughter of an angel on high
Drawn near, drawn close to a point, to a hole
Not filled ‘til we heal our own aching soul

‘til we eye to eye each other in time
Say I to I
I am, am I

And a mother is no mother
But a spirit of flight
As a beacon that beckons
In a pale blue night

To draw near, draw close
Ourselves in time
Say I to I
I am, am I
Women are the weavers of stories and lives
And a woman can see in another woman’s eyes
To the depth of a heart and a soul in seed
In the want, in the joy, in the cry in need

Heart honed as the fingers of a fleshless sigh
To the visceral laughter of an angel on high
Drawn near, drawn close to a point, to a hole
Not filled ‘til we heal our own aching soul

‘til we eye to eye each other in time
Say I to I
I am, am I

And a mother is no mother
But a spirit of flight
As a beacon that beckons
In a pale blue night