Aftermath of Hiroshima

by Bari Demers

An Artist expresses his thoughts through the use of various mediums to capture his audience.

Most would think an artist is trying to reach out to the public in order to sell his creative forms of media, but that is not the case at all.  Every artist is different with their own techniques and gifts, from watercolor, oil painting to abstracts. They're not showing their art to please everyone, it's a form of expression and if you see and understand what the artist is saying, it will also have meaning to you.

Unfortunately most artists aren't totally recognized  until years after their death or just before, like, Emily Carr and Tom Thomson. If an artist is one of the lucky ones to be discovered within his or her lifetime, they are immediately appreciated through mass media. Once this happens, the world becomes aware of his or her accomplishments after years of being in the shadows.

Art is appreciated in the eye of the beholder and of its creator and it really doesn't matter what the world thinks of their art piece. After all, it wasn't created to suit the drapes, the room or peoples impression of what art is. Each artist has their very own expression and this is exactly what the painting, Aftermath of Hiroshima by artist Bari is portraying in his art piece.

Aftermath of Hiroshima by artist Bari expresses the pain, anguish and loss after the bomb was dropped in Hiroshima. The Ghosts of Hiroshima were witness to the power of the atomic bomb named Little Boy  dropped on that day in August 6 1945.

It was said by witness those in the immediately area were evaporated from existence, while those who survived saw their flesh melt off their bones, extending their arms up looking  like zombies of the walking dead. A time of extreme horror and the painting Aftermath of Hiroshima is a strong reminder to all of mankind how important it is to solve differences in a peaceful manner.
Artist Bari has also visit Pearl Harbor and expressed his feelings on canvas, remembering Pearl Harbor.

In Conclusion:
An Artist expresses his or herself in many different ways using various mediums, bringing his audience close attention to what matters.
It's only art to you if it matters or it moves you to support that artists.

The Power of Star Trek by J. Robb Montana

Bari Marcus Anthony 

On a warm summer's night in 1967, as any young boy would do, I spent my time looking up at the stars, watching meteorites shoot across the night sky, dreaming of traveling across the universe, destined for an unknown planet;

"...To boldly go where no man has gone before..."  

Within a small town called Vernon, in the southern Okanagan valley of British Columbia, my summer holidays were coming to an end. But, I was really excited to watch the newest science fiction TV series, Star Trek produced by Gene Roddenberry.

The year before Star Trek, another science fiction TV series had me glued to the tube, Lost in Space produced by Irwin Allen.

 I was hooked, all my days were spent playing and dreaming about Space Exploration.  

My world suddenly became Star Trek, actually imagining being part of the crew along with Captain James T. Kirk. Dreaming, drawing and playing Star Trek was a big part of my life growing into the thoughts of becoming an astronaut. Little did I know at the time, only American astronauts were recruited by NASA.

I religiously watched every episode of Star Trek, studying the rolls of each actor:

1.     James T. Kirk played by William Shatner

2.     Spock played by Leonard Nimoy

3.     Bones - Dr. Leonard McCoy played by DeForest Kelley

4.     Scotty played by James Doohan

5.     Uhura played by Nichelle Nichols

6.     Sulu played by George Takei

7.     Chekov played by Walter Koenig

The original Star Trek series lasted three years, but that didn't stop anything. I watched all the re-runs of Star Trek at least ten times. 

Then came Star Wars by George Lucas; space exploration was back in full swing when Paramount Pictures produced eleven Star Trek films. 

The Power of Star Trek rocked across the world where Trekkie's dressed the part at Star Trek Conventions, including annual conventions in Las Vegas.

Zip 10 years later, my calling as an astronaut faded, turning my interest into creative writing.

The Power of Star Trek stirred my interest into science fiction script writing, where today I'm writing a screenplay, Synopsis:Black Angels - a science-fiction thriller by author Bari Marcus Anthony.

Checkout the writer's short stories...

Be sure to get your COPY of BLACK ANGELS today - limited priced offer !

The Days of Darkness

The Days of Darkness by Bari Marcus Anthony

A Fictional Short Story

(Fictitious disclaimer :all persons portrayed in it are fictitious Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.) All rights reserved. No part of this manuscript may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical,photocopy, recording or otherwise without the written prior permission by J. Robb Montana.

The Days of Darkness by Bari Marcus Anthony 

The days of darkness are imprinted in my past, just like it was yesterday.

To this very day I remember the sour smell of whiskey bottles lying on the floor beside the couch where my mom was sleeping. Her limp body lay motionless with her right hand grasping the twenty-sixer as if it were her life line.

I was doing what most five year old would do, playing with my new GI Joe on this cold winter day.
 It was late afternoon when my stomach began to growl, quickly realizing noon hour past.
 In our house we never ate breakfast, so lunch was a big part of my routine. My thin little body was so starved with malnutrition it wasn't uncommon to faint.

 I stepped quietly into the living room of our small home, looking for my mom. I knee quietly beside her, reached over and nudged her arm to wake-up. She moaned but didn't move, so I used all my might to shake her. The reaction was over whelming to say the least.  My mom swung her arm into my chest, knocking me flat on the floor. It didn't hurt thinking it was some sort of game. I quickly got up and jumped on top of her, yelling," Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Get Up!"

Had I realized this wasn't a game my instincts would have kick-in, but not this time.

It happened all in slow motion, wakening  mother bear. She grabbed  me by my arms, feeling intent pain, swinging me over her shoulders and racing me back to my room.

My weak little body was plunged into the darkness of a closet filled with dirty laundry and empty whiskey bottles. I just remember the pain in my back as I hit what must of been the whiskey bottles. The bedroom door slams shut and then complete silence once again.

The pungent smell was so overwhelming it made me gasp for fresh air. It wasn't long before pressing my face up against the cracks of the folding doors.

 A river of tears streaked my face with stains," MOM! OH MOM! Please Mom..." is vivid in my mind this very day.

 It wasn't long before I fell asleep, hours past before waking up to find my mom tucking me in my bed.

She washed my face with a wet washcloth, removing dry-stain tears from swollen cheeks. My mom very carefully slide her fingers across my long bangs, she kissed my forehead," I'm so sorry...can you forgive me Dex?" I nodded in satisfaction, knowing my mom's nicer personality had come to visit her son.

What seemed like a lifetime of abuse has been itched in my mind for eternity on those days of darkness.

(Fictitious disclaimer :all persons portrayed in it are fictitious Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

See more short stories and screenplays by Bari Demers