I never got to be a hippie

I missed out on the whole hippie thing.  My older brother, part hippie – part disco, seemed to live a full out, living color hippie experience.  At least it seemed so in the eyes of a five year old, peering into the garage window while his band practiced, and practiced, and practiced.

VW vans, peace signs, the “keep on truckin” icon.  I have always wanted to identify with these things.

I know it is reflected in my art, it’s what comes out of my brush more often than not.

Flowers, Flower power, bright colors.

I like the dream of freedom and the laid-back hippie attitude.

Alas, the grass is always greener on the other side of the decade. Instead, I got the preppy 80′s look, techno beat, neon, and stirup pants?

Remember stirrup pants? I saw some in the Goodwill the other day.Tell me, WHO ever thought those we a good idea?

I’ll take a Boho gypsy skirt any day of the week.

For me, hippie art is so much more than tie dye and the peace sign.

For me, it’s freedom and rebellion. For me, it’s icons long gone, just tiny flashbacks of what I was always too young to embrace.

Cindy’s version of Hippie Art

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