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Not A Monster

7/7/2025

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Not A Monster


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Not a Monster
pen and ink on wood panel
8 x 12 x .76 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)

Scooby Doo taught us that the real monsters were always human - UNKNOWN

Last week was monstrous.

Many of us are walking around in a bit of shock, under a layer of grief and with our heads in our hands.  And we must and should give a bit of time to those feelings.  
The shock of the wide world implications of everything going on landed hard with me because of shipping.  

Shipping?  Yep, shipping.

Last month's Reader Giveaway winner is located in Israel.  So Wonder Mike and I wrapped her prize with care, measured and weighed it and went online to get a shipping label.  But no planes (NO PLANES!) are flying to Israel now.  Wait, what?

It is a small thing, not the end of the world (the package will wait patiently until planes fly there again) but it kind of jarred me into awakeness.  The state of things is trickling down to the every day, and systems unraveling, the day-to-day less certain.
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Which sent a flood of awareness coursing over me - all the people whose benefits, jobs, housing, education, food, utilities, medical care and citizenship are at stake now.  First a trickle, then the flood.

​But we see you, human monsters.  We see you and we vote.  We protest, we write letters and send emails and make phone calls.  We see you.  

About the art:  Wonder Mike posed for this one!  The brave little guy had no hesitation about landing in the embrace of this jovial monster.  Beginning with a varnished piece of wood panel, I added black gesso around the sketch of the figure to ground him to the background.  Working from the faces and hands outward, patiently adding each line with a Rotring Tikky Graphic Art pen number 3, filling in with a number 8.  A few white highlights (the dog's face and the monster's teeth) with a Posca paint pen.  Then a coat of varnish over the entire piece to set the ink and protect it from fading.

The July Reader Giveaway begins!  This month's giveaway piece is an oil painting on driftwood from the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. It is ready to hang, varnished, hanging hardware on the back. approximately 5 x 18 inches.

To enter, leave a comment on any blog post during the month of July.   The winner will be announced on August 4th right here in the blog.

Ready? Set?  GO! 
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The Next One Might

6/9/2025

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The Next One Might



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The Next One Might
oil on art board
14 x 18 inches.
This item is unframed
(click on the image to purchase)


“All artists live in the gap between what they imagine and what they produce; no finished painting ever looks as good as the one I see in my mind, but the next one might.” - BRIAN RUTENBERG
I've been listening to a lot of Brian Rutenberg's Studio Visits on YouTube.

Ok, ok, yes I have listened to them all before.  But I am a slow turtle when it comes to absorbing some information, and listening repeatedly helps knock it into my skull.  Well, sometimes. :)

​Rutenberg doesn't consider himself an abstract painter, but a southern landscape artist. Yet he doesn't paint trees, but treeness.  Oh!

The "abstracts" I paint are generally not abstract paintings - but are instead abstracted landscapes or abstractscapes.  I suppose you could call them gorgeness or forestness or beachness.  The essence of something, without the actual thing.
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But back to the quote at the beginning of this post - I absolutely live in the gap.  What I imagine and what I paint are two different things.  But I am relentlessly determined to have my skills catch up to my dreamscapes. Probably they never will.  But there is always the next one.  Which is a lot like hiking.  What's over the next hill?  Around the bend? Across the stream?  Always curious about what's coming next.  Always willing to go and look.

About the art: beginning with a piece of  art board (donated by my artist husband while he organized his studio space) I roughed in a mottled sky using a palette knife and thinned oil paint.  Using the side of the palette knife and some dark paint, I roughed in a landscape in a V shape with a couple of hills.  Working quickly and abandoning preciousness, I build layers of paint until there was some texture to it.  Grabbing a piece of butcher paper, I pressed it into the paint to lift some of the layers, then pressed the paint-laden paper in other sections, creating a rocky ground look.  Carving back into the paint with a rubber wedge and creating some "treeness", then adding color to those verticals with the palette knife.  Inspired by hikes in the waterfall section of the Columbia River Gorge.

The June Reader Giveaway continues!  Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered to win a piece of original art - FREE!  And thanks for your comments and your support!
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From The Outside In

4/7/2025

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From The Outside In



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​From The Outside In
oil on packaging paper
13 x 12 inches
This item is unmounted and unframed
(click on the image to purchase)


​That's how the madness of the world tries to colonize you: from the outside in, forcing you to live in its reality. - Jeff VanderMeer, Annihilation
There is a lot of madness in the world right now.  And there are days where it feels a bit like that madness is trying to colonize all the places where joy resides.  The chaos and confusion and struggle and suffering wants to become the only reality.  Finding a way to balance attention to the outside issues with peace and joy on the inside is a daily practice now.

It helps me to imagine that outer chaos as a monster of sorts - something large and many limbed lurking and wanting to find a way in.  Do I want that living inside of me?  Heck no!  Ignore the fact that a blue tentacled creature draped around me might indeed make me look fabulous.  Future fashion?
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About the art:  well what do you know!  I have a video!   

(if you have trouble with the embedded video, here is a link to the same video on my YouTube channel: 

youtube.com/shorts/e0Odlsbnfsk?si=AP2R4hFTGr5oGAtn
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The April Reader Giveaway begins today!  Leave a comment on any blog post in the month of April to be automatically entered to win an original piece of art - FREE!
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Like A Snow Leopard Falling

3/24/2025

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Like A Snow Leopard Falling

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"Like A Snow Leopard Falling" - oil on Yupo,  12 x 19 inches.  This item is unmounted and unframed. (click on the image to purchase)

I recently viewed a video of a snow leopard.  It was chasing its prey (some sort of deer perhaps) and they both ran off the edge of a cliff...the leopard grabbed its prey and held on, I mean held on even as the two tumbled on rocks, over more edges, bouncing and careening to the bottom, where the leopard got to its feet with its jaws still firmly holding on to the other creature.

It was an unsettling video, but also amazing.  What living things can and will do in pursuit of something.  What can be survived in the pursuit of that thing.  What can be endured.  I imagine the snow leopard didn't even do the thing I would have done, which is to look up, pause and think whoa!  I was just waaaaaaay up there, and now I am down here and  ALIVE.


And in a way, I think artists are a bit like that snow leopard, falling in pursuit.
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Really, Lola?  Yep.  Indeed.  Hear me out.

We get this vision in our heads of what is possible.  Maybe just an idea of our own, maybe seeing what others have created or are working on.  And we pursue that idea - relentlessly.  Falling, careening, bouncing, suffering, but hanging on.  Piles of attempted paintings (or pages of words written, or crushed clay or wood pieces, whatever your art may be) and yet we don't pay that any mind - we just keep pursuing.  

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​I​t may take years.  We may feel injured (unmotivated, discouraged, disillusioned) along the way but inevitably we are back at it, trying again and again and again.  We get a little closer.  A little closer still.  And maybe we never actually get our teeth around that vision we're pursuing - but we can smell it, taste it, imagine it so clearly.

Abstract painting is like that, for me.  It is like a snow leopard falling - trusting I will land on my feet at the bottom with the thing in my two hands.  I'm still falling, by the way.  But never mind that - it is so close I can taste it.

​I'd love to hear what you're relentlessly pursuing!  Leave a comment below.  

About the art: beginning with a gesso-primed gallery-wrapped canvas, I pressed leftover wet paint palettes against the canvas over a period of weeks, never mind color, consistency or pattern.  This creates a lovely uncontrived texture and pops of unexpected color coming through the final piece.  Once thoroughly dry, I drew a rough sketch with a wet brush covered in thinned dark paint.  At this point I am not wedded to the composition, just exploring.  Working top to bottom with a palette knife, I applied paint in thick layers, allowing the colors to blend in some places and making sure to preserve a thin line of the dark under sketch at the border of each shape.  Once the neutral base layers were in, some drying time and then the pops of pinks and reds were added.  I carved back through the nearly dry paint with a chopstick, creating trails meandering down the canvas.  Walking away before my neat and tidy side can overwork the textures.

It's the final week to enter the March Reader Giveaway!  Leave a comment on any (or many) blog post (s) this month to be automatically entered.  Someone will win a piece of original art - FREE!
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Seeing and Feeling

3/10/2025

4 Comments

 
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Seeing and Feeling



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"Seeing and Feeling" - oil on copper panel, 12 x 12 x .25. This item is unframed.  (click on the image to purchase)

One eye sees, the other feels.
― Paul Klee

I think perhaps the life of a human is much about learning both how to see and how to feel.  

For sure, the creative life is about seeing - colors, shapes, texture, line, composition, shadow, value, hue.  Seeing what others see in your work, in your words, in your vulnerabilities or your barriers.
And we learn to see what other artists see (or saw) in the world and how they portrayed it.  Seeing is half of painting.  Half of writing.  Half of creating.

But feeling...well, we boldly go where others may not be willing to, when we create from the depths of our wells.  The muse sends me often to illuminate those places where I might prefer to pass on by.  But there is light in those dark depths, and so I go there and (luckily for me) many of you roll along with me (or run ahead with flashlights - thank you!) and thus we are not alone in the dark.

The best bits are often when we see what we're feeling, and feel what we're seeing.  Epiphany, illumination and understanding ensue. 
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About the art:  copper panel makes exploration deeply satisfying, and this piece was no exception.  Beginning with a rough sketch with an acrylic paint pen directly on the copper, and slowly adding thinned layers of oil paint.  Working from that single eye outward and keeping the color palette very limited, I followed the paint as it moved.  With my perfectionist's hand tied behind my back, I pursued scratchy, rough emotion with chopsticks, rubber wedge, fingers and dripping brush.  Keeping the paint wet allows the copper to be easily exposed by dripping paint and by scratching/carving techniques.  This one moves me.  


​Hey you! (yep, I'm talking to YOU!) Guess where I am now?
​ On Bluesky ([email protected]) and Flashes (@wanderinglola)


Follow me over there for all the latest art,
musings, adventuring and malarkey.
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The March Reader Giveaway continues!  Leave a comment on any blog post this month to be automatically entered to win a piece of original art absolutely free!  Winner will be announced on March 31st right here in the blog.  Ready?  Set? GO!
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How We're Shaped

9/9/2024

12 Comments

 
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How We're Shaped



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​"How We're Shaped" - oil on Yupo, 11.5 x 18.5 inches.  This item is unmounted and unframed. (click on the image to purchase)


A lot of us humans are like dogs: we really don’t know what size we are, how we’re shaped, what we look like. The most extreme example of this ignorance must be the people who design the seats on airplanes. At the other extreme, the people who have the most accurate, vivid sense of their own appearance may be dancers. What dancers look like is, after all, what they do. - URSULA K. LE GUIN

Our chihuahua, Wonder Mike,  thinks he is the largest dog on the block.

​He will not hesitate to give chase to a raccoon twice his size.  I believe he would challenge a bear.  And he dislikes being carried or coddled - because clearly he is TOO BIG for that.

​When I read this quote, I wondered whether or not I have a firm sense of my size and shape and appearance without a mirror to confirm it.  Mostly I do, but I have to admit I am sometimes surprised to find out I am less youthful and robust-looking than what I think I am.  Couldn't I just run and do a cartwheel in the grass?  Or stand on my head?  Why is my butt droopy - that's not what I think is happening back there!  And I am always, always guilty of selecting clothes that are too large for me, because I see myself as  taking up more space in the world than I actually do.  Wonder Mike and I are alike that way - aren't I one of the big dogs?
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About the art:  this piece is inspired by an image the AI bot created, which was a surprise interpretation of the prompt I had supplied.  But I often find those random, wonky images are just exactly what I needed (but didn't know I was looking for).  When I saw this one, I connected with her right away - somewhat masked (the eyes) and stern looking, but with torn tights and mismatched gloves and a tutu that was clearly falling apart.  Ha ha!  As usual, the Yupo allowed a pretty rapid building of the layers of color, and the ability to create texture within the paint.  Keeping a nice mixture of hard and soft lines was key with this one, along with varying the reds just enough that her chair stood out but did not distract from the figure.  A bit of paint thinner  was added  to the edges of her skirt to allow some runs and smudges.  Kind of a modern version of  The Thinker. 

The September Reader Giveaway continues!  Leave a comment (or several) this month to be entered to win a piece of original art!  The winner will be announced here in the blog at the end of the month.
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Confidence and Illusion

8/19/2024

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​LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above

"Confidence and Illusion" - oil on crescent board, 14 x 19 inches.  This item is sold unframed. (click on the photo to purchase)


Ah, the expressive brush strokes of Van Gogh, and oh, Chagall’s dreamy scenes! Celebrated artists throughout history have produced some of the world’s most ravishing works, executed with an unparalleled mastery of light and color, line and space. But let’s face it: they also turned out their share of duds. We’re not talking about paintings intended to capture the grotesquerie of human life, but artworks that evidence clumsy mark-making, questionable choices, or a rudimentary hand. Even the most adept of painters, it seems, have their off days.  -ARTNEWS, Nov 2023
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Confidence and Illusion
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Masterpiece or hot mess? ​https://news.artnet.com/art-world-archives/bad-paintings-by-famous-artists-2397184

Artists have a lot in common with Oz's wizard.

We're behind the curtain, making things appear to be enchanted, magical, effortless, charming and more.  But really, we are messy, clumsy, mistake-making, blundering adventurers who sometimes happen to land on a formula that works.

Well, I am, anyway.

But I suppose it is part of our mystique - our je ne said quoi -to keep the curtain closed, the fog machine rolling and the pile of mishaps shoved under the table.  Because there are many.
The ballgown bots are something I stumbled upon that delight me and seem to feel effortless under my hands.  But it is a rarity, this sense of ease in the paint.  As I gaze upon the pile of canvases and boards to be painted over (my share of duds​) I am decidedly grateful for a wizardly moment with the paint. 

About the art:  this is a paint-over of a very old acrylic piece on crescent board.  Though I chose the underpainting because of its color and depth, ultimately none of it remains in this new painting.   The focus of this piece is that small section of skin against the dark background - a wee bit of humanity within the monstrous.  After a light pencil sketch, I began layering the darks, painting around the form until the shapes were just so.  Resisting the desire to overly define the skin shadows, letting shapes speak instead.  Layers and layers of pink and gold for the dress, wet into wet so the edges slightly blur into the dark background like gauzy silk.  Mixing the darkest darks for bodice and underskirt (while avoiding actual black) and then a slightly gray-brown dark for the background.  Playing one dark against the other.  Allowing a small shape within the headpiece to say "eye" and a dark shape to say "ear" and leaving the rest to the viewer's eyes.  This piece makes me smile.  She's a badass for sure.

It's the final week to enter the August Reader Giveaway!  Leave a comment to be automatically entered to win a free piece of original art!  The winner will be announced in next week's post.  
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A Trapdoor in the Psyche

8/12/2024

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A Trapdoor in the Psyche" - oil on Yupo, 19.5 x 19 inches This item is sold unmounted and unframed. (click on the image to purchase)
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A Trapdoor in the Psyche

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Click on the DOWNLOAD link to listen to the blog.


A handful of times a lifetime, if you are lucky, an experience opens a trapdoor in your psyche with its almost unbearable beauty and strangeness, its discomposing unlikeness to anything you have known before. Down, down you go into the depths of the unconscious, dark and fertile with the terror and longing that make for suffering, the surrender that makes for the end of suffering, not in resignation but in faith. It is then that the still, small voice of the soul begins to sing; it is then that the trapdoor becomes a portal into a life larger, truer, and more possible — a kind of rebirth.  - MARIA POPOVA

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There is an art to handling life's more  challenging experiences.

Similar to creating art, it requires a lot of practice (and a lot of failure) before it can be wrangled or mastered.  For me, these experiences that open a trapdoor in the psyche are something I can intellectually understand, but to feel the way through the experience in my heart and body (like a dancer, or sculptor or even a painter) is something I struggle with.  It's all there, up in my head, what I should do, what will move it along - but how do I put it into play?
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Part of the art of the trapdoor is being present with where you are within it - are you in the terror and longing?  Are you in surrender?  Are you in the singing of the small voice of your soul?  Not forcing, just accepting, having faith that it is, indeed, a process that you will move through and emerge from - you see, I know this, but doing it is something else entirely.  Sigh.

But I am learning to look at these experiences as I would a painting - some of them emerge from their "ugly" phase and become something radiant.  Some are just practice pieces that are huge fails on their own, but teach me something that will make the next one easier, better, more.   These small, incremental shifts in seeing challenging experiences just a little bit differently will one day pay off.  Just watch - I'll be gliding my way through effortlessly and gracefully.  Well, that's the goal, anyway.

About the art:  hello, Yupo - it is always nice to be on your playground, where layers build brilliantly and paint glides like butter.  For this piece, the main focus was capturing the mottled tones of the main character's face, which came only after the 80 millionth layer.  But at that moment - voila!  Such satisfaction.  The folds and lines in the clothing are created by using a small rubber wedge to carve back through the paint.  Yupo is the only substrate I've found that this works so smoothly with.

The August Reader Giveaway is in full swing!  One (or more) lucky readers will win a free piece of art!  Just subscribe, read and comment anytime in the month of August to enter.  Already subscribed?  Just comment to enter!  Comment multiple times during the month and be entered as many times.  WHOA!  Wonder Mike LOVES sending free art each month.  The winner will be announced here in the blog at the end of the month.  Ready? Set?  ENTER!
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Number is Portal

8/5/2024

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"Number is Portal" - oil on gallery-wrapped canvas, 30 x 10 x 1.5 inches.


​(listen to the blog by clicking the "Download" button above)
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Science is thought by some to be dry, technical, and quantitative. It is not. Study is exaltation. Fact is miracle. Number is portal. Understanding is joy. - STEVEN NIGHTINGALE
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"Study is Exaltation I" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 6 x .75 inches.
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"Study is Exaltation II" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 6 x .75 inches
We spend a lot of time in the wild.

And also many hours getting to the wilderness and returning home again.

The passenger window becomes a viewing portal on the long drives, with an endless display of clouds, mountains, fields and trees.
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"Understanding is Joy" - oil on cradled wood panel, 24 x 12 x .75 inches
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"Study is Exaltation III" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 6 x .75 inches

​The hither and yon views are often so good that the passenger feels a little bad that the driver cannot take photos.  We take turns driving, of course, but the clouds in the morning are vastly different from those in the late afternoon.  Which is better?  It is always a surprise. 



​And so I have a large digital file of pictures from the road, which inspired this series of abstract landscapes (abstract-scapes) and a full immersion into capturing that mood   while in the studio.

Study is, indeed, exaltation.  A form of worshipful reverence for the things our eyes get to see, and the wondrousness of what we pass through from here to there.
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"Study is Exaltation IV" - oil on cradled wood panel, 12 x 6 x .75 inches

​About the art: these pieces were all painted alla prima  (wet into wet), beginning with a very wet background of darks and building the layers in increasing thickness toward the lights.  What I learned through many iterations is: the details get in the way with these - a hint is better than full disclosure, a clue rather than an answer.  For several pieces, I fell into the mistake of overly detailed fluffy clouds, which looked, I don't know, contrived and meh.  A squeegee across the wet paint immediately improved everything.  After a long drying time, a final coat of varnish on the wood-based pieces added depth and deepened the darks.  

It's time to begin the August Reader Giveaway!  Subscribe!  Read!  Comment!  Be automatically entered to win an original artwork - FREE!  The winner will be announced at the end of the month.  Ready?  Set? WIN!
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The Sea is Emotion Incarnate, Reject All Shackles

6/24/2024

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The Sea is Emotion Incarnate
"The Sea is Emotion Incarnate", oil on linen panel, 10" x 10"

"Reject All Shackles", oil on aluminum panel,  12" x 10"

(click on the images to purchase)

“The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't.”
― Christopher Paolini, Eragon​
Malcolm and I spent a lot of time by the sea.

Walking, wandering, climbing up and down (boulders, cliffs, dunes, rock piles), wondering and pondering.  Paolini is not wrong - the sea IS emotion incarnate.  Its moods, its faces, its tides and tumbles.

Sometimes the ocean gently laps against our feet in the warm sand.  Other times it pushes us away with its fierceness.  Once it grabbed me off a rock pile - a sneaker wave which gave me a taste of terror and then relief (I was soaked and muddied, scared and surprised but not swept away. Never ever turn your back on the sea.)
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Reject All Shackles
Mostly,  like the wild creature it is,  it defies capturing.

I've painted it over and over again.  In detail, in texture, in color and without.  It is elusive, rejecting all attempts to define it.  Here in these small pieces, I strove for minimalism - the sea in simple line and color, the sunset over the sea in all its cotton candy glory.   I can hear the sea laughing, knowing it remains unshackled by these pieces.  Knowing I will try again.
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​Congratulations Michaela!  Wonder Mike chose your name at random as winner of the June Reader Giveaway!  Send your mailing address to ​[email protected] and your original piece of artwork will be on its way to you.  Thanks to everyone who participated!
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Here's the blue wild, where
tiny dreamers ride beasts, speak
​ birdsong, hold the moon.

(by poet Mary W. Cox)
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​Art prints available on request
  • Home
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  • Exhibits
    • The Downside of Lycanthropy
    • A Song for the Hunted
    • The Wild God
    • NUDGE - SHOVE
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