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Earl E. Martin |
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| About the Artist...
Author, poet, artist Earl E. Martin is a native Montanan, who has lived a rich and multi faceted life. His natural talents in art, poetry, and writing have taken him on a journey of documentation and interpretation in many different mediums that we all can enjoy. He was awarded the Purple Heart for being severely wounded during the Tet Offensive in Vietnam, and upon returning to the United States, he went on to write the first book of poetry published about the Vietnam War, entitled "A Poet Goes to War" a collection of deeply sensitive introspections on war and the common threads of all humanity. His book caught the heart of the 20th Century noted American anthropologist Margaret Mead, who read poems from his book on the Merv Griffin Show in 1971. Born on a ranch, his love of animals has continually inspired and influenced him, and the sculptures and watercolors in this series reflect his poetic sensitivity to that delightful and whimsical domestic fowl know as the chicken.
Each art work is sculpted from the trunk of an Aspen tree, then dried, primed, and oil painted into the characters who make up this barnyard menagerie.
For dimensions and price of each work email at MartinaMontana@aol.com
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Roosters, Chickens, Pullets |
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Mr.Pearl |
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Hens to the left of him, hens to the right, come on girls let's dance tonight...
Earl E. Martin
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"Freddy", 28" tall |
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That wind blew things around.... come here hens look look look what I found!
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"Blondie" 23" tall |
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"Pecking Pullet" 15" tall |
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Between the all the crowing and the cackling, a girl just can't get a good nights sleep...
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It's moving maybe it's a worm maybe it's a hopper it doesn't matter I'm gonna eat it.
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"Tom, He Ain't No Turkey", 24" tall |
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Tom isn't knowing that his crowing needs improving, but he keeps trying.
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"Jilly" , 23" tall |
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"Mr. Nevermore" , 46"tall |
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But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered--not a feather then he fluttered-- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Excerpt from "The Raven", by Edgar Allan Poe
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