contributed by Meg Rosenfeld,,,,,,,"this was drawn on a cloth napkin at a Russian restaurant on Geary when
we were there a few years ago with my Russian class. A guy was hanging
around the table where we were sitting, trying to pick up one of the women in
our group.
these are stills from an animated audio napkin contributed by Jim ,,,,,,,,,,"I am in a band called Jim's Big Ego - often at shows we have our audience write poetry on napkins and put them on stage - we perform this mess of napkin poetry" jim@bigego.com
if you want to see the animation and hear the audio (you need to be able to play Shockwave files)
Copyright Jon Planas
"The title of the napkin art work is "Two Cats" the medium is a hand-painted on white cloth napkin"
you can contact him at Planas99@aol.com and see more of his work at http://www.planetplanas.com/
"Dessin joueur hochey"
contributed by,,,,,,,,,,,,,,A painter of the four seasons...
SYLVIO GAGNON
...un peintre des quatre saisons
http://www.cyberus.ca/~sgagnon
"My Girl from Outer Space".It's a night pub napkin art, I created my own girl in a solitary night...
Original Size: 21x24cmPrice: 100 U$
My name: Edgar FrancoE-mail: edgarf@iar.unicamp.br
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Workshop/4166
I was in Hong Kong ...... I was eating in this Cantonese style
fast food restaurant and this large poster was on the wall featuring an
actual photograph of this peculiar looking fowl.
I have no idea what the poster said but I think the whole idea behind it was
to make the viewer hungry. Anyway, I didn't order it but I thought it was
worth a doodle on my napkin.
---Kim Taylor
Did this while eating in my favorite thai restaurant-John Summer
Patricia Ternahan
submitted by Jim
The Napkin Writer
As I slowly, make my way, through the doors of the sad and gloom
The waitress comes and hand me a drink, a drink, where sorrow looms
This place is all secluded, from all whom else can see
A place where I can sit and doodle, of stories of life, and me
I need no pads of paper, on the table sits a stack
Of freshly place and folded napkins, to pen my life's heartaches
I need no tape-recorders, I always keep close by
A napkin for my poetic verse, under the drink, that I have cried
As the smoked-filled room, clouds my mind, I write, how love has parted
My words are soft and somber, though inked, from the broken hearted
And when my nights are ending, my verses turn to song
Such peaceful words, telling the world, what its like to be alone
So now I abandon my verses, my words of love and grace
And make my way, to the door, to leave this smoked-filled place
Just when I know, someone will find, my ink of love so rash
The waitress comes and cleans the room, and those napkins, go in the trash
But every once in a while, yet a great little while, you'll see some verses=20
shown
They publish and print, what a waitress has sent, and they mark the poet,=20
unknown!
=A9, 1998
The Napkin Writer
