- Published on
"Fowl Play" (16 x 16), "Bird Circus" (12 x 12) and "Balancing Act" (16 x 16) each mixed media on cradled board, ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
A trifecta of malarkey to start your week! These quirky girls and their rambunctious feathered friends were inspired by early morning journal drawings and the feeling of juggling many priorities at once. Perhaps even priority juggling can be whimsical fun???
After a weekend of workshops, art extravaganzas, deadlines and another outdoor festival, I felt my inner whiner beginning to, well, whine. "It's too hard", "It's so much work" and "I want a nap." Even good stress is stress! But then I picked up Clear Seeing Place and read the chapter titled Let It Kill You. Two pages of AHA and QUIT YOUR WHINING were all I needed to get my attitude straightened out and get back on the horse. Thank you, Brian Rutenberg, for slapping me in the face.
Painting is a living, breathing thing, and, like all living things, it has to be fed. It demands constant attention and sacrifice. That's why it's called a discipline...find out what you love to do and let it kill you. Whoa. Yep, so that's why I am painting at 5 am before my eyes are actually open. I do love to do this. An artist is willing to work harder than anyone in the room at stuff no one else cares about..." Yep. Tweaking, adjusting, painting over, mulling, pondering, scraping, contemplating, cleaning. When it's just right, I can rest. ...what often passes for artistic merit is just an insensible set of priorities. The next time you hear an artist referred to as "critically acclaimed," substitute "colossally lucky and tragically lonely." Oy vey! An insensible set of priorities - maybe to the rest of the world, but here in the studio, even bird-balancing girls need to be just right.
One thing I disagree with...there is no loneliness in my studio. I am surrounded by these characters and emotion-infused canvases of color. It is a magpie gathering in here. The only way to truly be alone is to walk out and close the door...nah. I think I'll stay. :)
A trifecta of malarkey to start your week! These quirky girls and their rambunctious feathered friends were inspired by early morning journal drawings and the feeling of juggling many priorities at once. Perhaps even priority juggling can be whimsical fun???
After a weekend of workshops, art extravaganzas, deadlines and another outdoor festival, I felt my inner whiner beginning to, well, whine. "It's too hard", "It's so much work" and "I want a nap." Even good stress is stress! But then I picked up Clear Seeing Place and read the chapter titled Let It Kill You. Two pages of AHA and QUIT YOUR WHINING were all I needed to get my attitude straightened out and get back on the horse. Thank you, Brian Rutenberg, for slapping me in the face.
Painting is a living, breathing thing, and, like all living things, it has to be fed. It demands constant attention and sacrifice. That's why it's called a discipline...find out what you love to do and let it kill you. Whoa. Yep, so that's why I am painting at 5 am before my eyes are actually open. I do love to do this. An artist is willing to work harder than anyone in the room at stuff no one else cares about..." Yep. Tweaking, adjusting, painting over, mulling, pondering, scraping, contemplating, cleaning. When it's just right, I can rest. ...what often passes for artistic merit is just an insensible set of priorities. The next time you hear an artist referred to as "critically acclaimed," substitute "colossally lucky and tragically lonely." Oy vey! An insensible set of priorities - maybe to the rest of the world, but here in the studio, even bird-balancing girls need to be just right.
One thing I disagree with...there is no loneliness in my studio. I am surrounded by these characters and emotion-infused canvases of color. It is a magpie gathering in here. The only way to truly be alone is to walk out and close the door...nah. I think I'll stay. :)
- Published on
Two Sides of the Same Coin" - mixed media on double-sided wood, 18" x 7". To be leaned upon a shelf and rotated to suit the day. Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com
In just two days, a gaggle of queens will emerge from the Jim Ward Center in Plantation. Bossy queens, benevolent queens, crabby queens and encouraging queens - they will rule the classroom and dominate the rest of us as only queens can do. I am completely delighted to host this sold-out workshop for the Plantation Art Guild. But, as always, I am truly at the mercy of these regal rumpus-makers, who never fail to surprise me with their antics.
I didn't consciously decide to become an intuitive painter. It's one of those things that just kind of happened along the way. It isn't for lack of trying to be otherwise. Too many failed attempts at planned painting - it robs me of something I deeply require to paint well - surrender. Surrender and a path where I cannot see around the bend. A mystery. A story unfolding where I don't know the ending until it is right there. And then I gasp a little, open my eyes wide and then smile.
If you know me, then you've seen my lists, calendars, schedules...you know I am disciplined and inflexible and demanding and driven in most of what I do. Even my ex-husband once told me he would hire me for a job before anyone else in the world because I get things done. I plan an outcome and plan the steps to get there and then I march along that path with steely determination.
But painting! It is the yin to my yang. It gives me balance. It lets me meander, dawdle, follow tangents, lose my train of thought and let go of any illusion of control. I delight in its surprises and unpredictability; I wait with anticipation for it to jump out and startle me yet again. Painting is the beating heart in my own tin man. It softens me.
There will be queens this Friday. Many of them. Each with a story and a surprise in store for her painter. And I am so excited to meet them.
In just two days, a gaggle of queens will emerge from the Jim Ward Center in Plantation. Bossy queens, benevolent queens, crabby queens and encouraging queens - they will rule the classroom and dominate the rest of us as only queens can do. I am completely delighted to host this sold-out workshop for the Plantation Art Guild. But, as always, I am truly at the mercy of these regal rumpus-makers, who never fail to surprise me with their antics.
I didn't consciously decide to become an intuitive painter. It's one of those things that just kind of happened along the way. It isn't for lack of trying to be otherwise. Too many failed attempts at planned painting - it robs me of something I deeply require to paint well - surrender. Surrender and a path where I cannot see around the bend. A mystery. A story unfolding where I don't know the ending until it is right there. And then I gasp a little, open my eyes wide and then smile.
If you know me, then you've seen my lists, calendars, schedules...you know I am disciplined and inflexible and demanding and driven in most of what I do. Even my ex-husband once told me he would hire me for a job before anyone else in the world because I get things done. I plan an outcome and plan the steps to get there and then I march along that path with steely determination.
But painting! It is the yin to my yang. It gives me balance. It lets me meander, dawdle, follow tangents, lose my train of thought and let go of any illusion of control. I delight in its surprises and unpredictability; I wait with anticipation for it to jump out and startle me yet again. Painting is the beating heart in my own tin man. It softens me.
There will be queens this Friday. Many of them. Each with a story and a surprise in store for her painter. And I am so excited to meet them.
- Published on
Fish, Fish! She Got Her Wish" - mixed media on reclaimed wood, 34" x 20". Ready to hang. Available at Ciel Gallery in June during the "Wisdom of Wild Things" show. Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com
On Friday, I had the most magnificent artist date. A spontaneous decision to take a "dream catcher" class at World & Eye with Rick McBride, a mixed blood Tsalagi (Cherokee) teacher, became a magical afternoon.
We learned weaving with sinew, paying attention to the messages of the spider and spider medicine. Beginning with metal hoops and moving up to natural wood and vine, our fingers cramping with holding the tension and simultaneously contemplating spacing and placement and pattern, we wove our pasts into wisdom for the future. Our teacher was patient, encouraging and calm, quietly sharing stories of dream catchers, drums, beads, feathers and bone.
mixedblood.infoThree hours passed quickly. Rick's small parrot eyed us warily from his shoulder, quietly nibbling on whatever was within reach. Rick produced a box of feathers - tropical, wild turkey, waterfowl and songbirds - and offered us its contents, which we were delighted to split amongst the three of us.
Spider medicine is about creativity. It is also about weaving your life into one whole - processing the past, taking its wisdom and moving on to the future. Spider (a feminine energy) allows us to view things from multiple viewpoints. She also teaches patience, as I learned unraveling a first attempt on the metal hoop and re-weaving it to improve my skills. The dream catcher "catches" your good dreams and allows them to trickle down into the feathers for safekeeping. The nightmares are captured in the weaving, and evaporate in the light of day like morning dew on a spider's web.
The photo is of my final weaving, finished late into the night once I returned home from the workshop. The beads are remnants of a trip to Thailand, and the weaving itself a type of lotus pattern. Spider medicine in my sacred space. I wonder where this will lead me next?
If you're interested in the workshops of Rick McBride, follow him on Meetup here. Learn more about medicine wheels, drums and other Native American teachings on Rick's website here.
Spider medicine is about creativity. It is also about weaving your life into one whole - processing the past, taking its wisdom and moving on to the future. Spider (a feminine energy) allows us to view things from multiple viewpoints. She also teaches patience, as I learned unraveling a first attempt on the metal hoop and re-weaving it to improve my skills. The dream catcher "catches" your good dreams and allows them to trickle down into the feathers for safekeeping. The nightmares are captured in the weaving, and evaporate in the light of day like morning dew on a spider's web.
The photo is of my final weaving, finished late into the night once I returned home from the workshop. The beads are remnants of a trip to Thailand, and the weaving itself a type of lotus pattern. Spider medicine in my sacred space. I wonder where this will lead me next?
If you're interested in the workshops of Rick McBride, follow him on Meetup here. Learn more about medicine wheels, drums and other Native American teachings on Rick's website here.
- Published on
The Scrumptiousness of Solitude", mixed media on watercolor paper, 11" x 15". Available on Artfinder.
This. This made me weep yesterday. From Clear Seeing Place by Brian Rutenberg:
"Some of my brushes are thirty-five years old; however, when I buy a new one, I immediately snap it in half...A precious tool makes precious marks. A broken brush is no longer a magic wand or a conductor's baton but a blunt, compact stub that puts my gigantic hand close to the battlefield. Painting is messy. My tools are clumsy. I disrespect my materials out of respect for my viewer."
And then there is a photo of broken brushes.
Why did this make my cry? Something about the visual. Intentionally breaking something to make it less precious, more blunt. Argh. I love this. And yet I fear it. Because this is what life does to us as humans - breaks us and puts us closer to the battlefield. And when it first happens, it is so hard. And then, after we are no longer precious, we are somehow more beautiful, more vibrant, more gritty and more real.
My sister told me long ago - "Life is Messy." I've wrestled with the thought, sometimes embracing it, other times trying to tidy the world around me and all the people in it. But during the moment I read the passage from Rutenberg's book, I really, really got it.
I recently bought some used paintbrushes at an art flea market. And, with the exception of intact handles, they are as Rutenberg described - blunt stubs. My hand grabs them each day in the studio, preferring their rough and unpredictable textures to the smooth evenness of new brushes. I prefer a messy battlefield on the canvas. I don't yet prefer this in my daily life, but thanks to this exquisite bit of prose, I see a metaphor for finding the beauty in the mess and in the purifying fire of the process.
Maybe, just maybe, I will break something on purpose today.
This. This made me weep yesterday. From Clear Seeing Place by Brian Rutenberg:
"Some of my brushes are thirty-five years old; however, when I buy a new one, I immediately snap it in half...A precious tool makes precious marks. A broken brush is no longer a magic wand or a conductor's baton but a blunt, compact stub that puts my gigantic hand close to the battlefield. Painting is messy. My tools are clumsy. I disrespect my materials out of respect for my viewer."
And then there is a photo of broken brushes.
Why did this make my cry? Something about the visual. Intentionally breaking something to make it less precious, more blunt. Argh. I love this. And yet I fear it. Because this is what life does to us as humans - breaks us and puts us closer to the battlefield. And when it first happens, it is so hard. And then, after we are no longer precious, we are somehow more beautiful, more vibrant, more gritty and more real.
My sister told me long ago - "Life is Messy." I've wrestled with the thought, sometimes embracing it, other times trying to tidy the world around me and all the people in it. But during the moment I read the passage from Rutenberg's book, I really, really got it.
I recently bought some used paintbrushes at an art flea market. And, with the exception of intact handles, they are as Rutenberg described - blunt stubs. My hand grabs them each day in the studio, preferring their rough and unpredictable textures to the smooth evenness of new brushes. I prefer a messy battlefield on the canvas. I don't yet prefer this in my daily life, but thanks to this exquisite bit of prose, I see a metaphor for finding the beauty in the mess and in the purifying fire of the process.
Maybe, just maybe, I will break something on purpose today.
- Published on
"Hazel" - mixed media on cradled wood, 8" x 8". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
There was something wonderful in the cyber airwaves yesterday....social media filled with joyous wishes for Easter and Passover, spring, bunnies, fancy dresses and family gatherings. A lovely, much needed visual feast of new life, celebration and togetherness. My children are all out of the house, and the grandkids are too many states away for egg hunts and baskets here at our house. But the photos of others enjoying the playfulness of the day brought me joy. Thanks, people of the world!
The grown folks here at my house went out for dinner at a local spot. Ocean breezes, aided by fans with misters, kept the outdoor seating comfortable as a local musician sang, played harmonica and guitar and took us for a trip down musical memory lane. Hubby and I compared lists of what bands and musicians we had seen live over our lifetimes. His list was worlds different than mine - suburban white girl music vs urban black kid decades ago. Yet as we mentally flipped through the collection of record albums (yep, old school vinyl), there were a few duplicates. Bob Scaggs for one. I saw him in high school at Blossom Music Center in Cleveland. And guess what? He is still touring. Check out his website here.
So let's start your week with a little groove music - how about some Lowdown?
You ain't got to be so bad, got to be so cold
This dog eat dog existence sure is getting old
Got to have a Jones for this
Jones for that
This runnin' with the Joneses, boy, just ain't where it's at, no, no
And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming. :)
So let's start your week with a little groove music - how about some Lowdown?
You ain't got to be so bad, got to be so cold
This dog eat dog existence sure is getting old
Got to have a Jones for this
Jones for that
This runnin' with the Joneses, boy, just ain't where it's at, no, no
And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming. :)
- Published on
"Nude on Blue Ground, With Hounds" - acrylic on canvas, 24" x 18". Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com
The second of two pieces skewing the masters - this one, a Diebenkorn. This challenge is so much fun....I wonder if it could be a 30 in 30 prompt? Hmmmmmm.
A breezy, coolish day (80 degrees). Perfect weather to sit on the back porch, read Clear Seeing Place and watch the wildlife. A couple of months ago we watched a dreaded snapping turtle lay eggs on the sandy bank of the lake across the water from us. Today a pair of smart crows discovered the nest and made off with the eggs one by one. I know two birds with full bellies who will sleep well tonight! And a whole host of lake wildlife made safer without the future snappers. Circle of life.
Back to the book, where I am finally into the meaty chapters, which include Rutenberg's painting methods. I am intrigued by his ritualistic beginning to each piece: circles of paint made with hands on canvas, "skin on skin" as he calls it. He works outward from the center, exploring every inch of the canvas with his hands. Recently, I've begun painting more with my hands than with brushes. I stop thinking about what I'm doing when the tool is my hand, It feels more like working in the garden - connected, present. Rutenberg says "self-awareness is the enemy", and then he presses this further with a quote from my favorite author, Ray Bradbury: "Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It's self-conscious, and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can't try to do things. You simply must do things."
Today in the studio, I vow to just do things.
The second of two pieces skewing the masters - this one, a Diebenkorn. This challenge is so much fun....I wonder if it could be a 30 in 30 prompt? Hmmmmmm.
A breezy, coolish day (80 degrees). Perfect weather to sit on the back porch, read Clear Seeing Place and watch the wildlife. A couple of months ago we watched a dreaded snapping turtle lay eggs on the sandy bank of the lake across the water from us. Today a pair of smart crows discovered the nest and made off with the eggs one by one. I know two birds with full bellies who will sleep well tonight! And a whole host of lake wildlife made safer without the future snappers. Circle of life.
Back to the book, where I am finally into the meaty chapters, which include Rutenberg's painting methods. I am intrigued by his ritualistic beginning to each piece: circles of paint made with hands on canvas, "skin on skin" as he calls it. He works outward from the center, exploring every inch of the canvas with his hands. Recently, I've begun painting more with my hands than with brushes. I stop thinking about what I'm doing when the tool is my hand, It feels more like working in the garden - connected, present. Rutenberg says "self-awareness is the enemy", and then he presses this further with a quote from my favorite author, Ray Bradbury: "Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It's self-conscious, and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can't try to do things. You simply must do things."
Today in the studio, I vow to just do things.
- Published on
"Seated Pink Nude, Tattooed" - acrylic and ink on canvas, 24" x 18". Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com
It's COMING! Next month at Ciel Gallery in Charlotte...SKEW THE MASTERS! My favorite show of all time, where artists "skew" their favorite masterpieces in the most amusing ways. Two years ago, I skewed Rothko on three different pieces, now all in the hands of private collectors:
It's COMING! Next month at Ciel Gallery in Charlotte...SKEW THE MASTERS! My favorite show of all time, where artists "skew" their favorite masterpieces in the most amusing ways. Two years ago, I skewed Rothko on three different pieces, now all in the hands of private collectors:
This year, after acquiring a book on Matisse and Diebenkorn recommended by Stan Kurth, the choice was obvious. One Matisse (above, top) and one Diebenkorn (to be revealed), both skewed nudes. There is something about this challenge that launches me out of my comfort zone and into a big stretch - which I really like. Plus, there is something delightfully wicked about making fun of the masters. :)
It was a weekend of treasure hunting as hubby and I climbed around dumpsters at local construction sites and scavenged the scrap bins at hardware stores. The smell of freshly cut wood fills my studio now, with enough pieces reclaimed to supply my substrate needs for the next month. Success!
Thanks to Julia Cameron and The Artist's Way, I try to build in an "Artist's Date" (something fun, frivolous and adventurous) into each week. Recently, I took a field trip with a friend to my favorite local shop, Buddha Happy . There, the owner and sweet spirit, Pim, taught us all about smudging with different woods, how to use exotic stones (like peacock crystal! Who knew?) and how singing bowls are used to activate energy in objects. Julia Cameron knows best! I was refreshed and re-inspired after our field trip, and I have an arm full of groovy new bracelets as well.
And now for your Monday delight, a little stroll down memory lane from the Museum of Endangered Sounds.
It was a weekend of treasure hunting as hubby and I climbed around dumpsters at local construction sites and scavenged the scrap bins at hardware stores. The smell of freshly cut wood fills my studio now, with enough pieces reclaimed to supply my substrate needs for the next month. Success!
Thanks to Julia Cameron and The Artist's Way, I try to build in an "Artist's Date" (something fun, frivolous and adventurous) into each week. Recently, I took a field trip with a friend to my favorite local shop, Buddha Happy . There, the owner and sweet spirit, Pim, taught us all about smudging with different woods, how to use exotic stones (like peacock crystal! Who knew?) and how singing bowls are used to activate energy in objects. Julia Cameron knows best! I was refreshed and re-inspired after our field trip, and I have an arm full of groovy new bracelets as well.
And now for your Monday delight, a little stroll down memory lane from the Museum of Endangered Sounds.
- Published on
"Moriko" - mixed media on cradled hardboard, 12" x 12". Ready to hang. Available on Artfinder.
Is it Thursday already? I seem to be in a swirling vortex of time on hyper-drive - the minutes and hours and days running past so quickly. Does it feel that way to you? I am determined to focus on right now despite this sense of frantic pace. In the studio, time stands still. The moment I leave its hallowed space, the rush is on. This little piece is from last week, a sweet girl whose name is Japanese and means "forest child". She reminds me to stop, head outside and get some nature time, because surely it will leave me with a smile and sense of peace.
I wish I had wisdom to share here today. It is a bit unnerving to sit down to write and realize my brain is mush. But just like days in the studio without inspiration, there are writing days which are drab and dull. WAIT JUST A GOSH-DARNED MINUTE! I am not going to give you drab and dull!
How about a little inspiration for your next hair style? Check out these portraits of Tokyo's Roller-Zoku gangs.
Or perhaps some Steampunk sculptural flying machines?
And finally, a little peek at my new site on Fine Art America, where you can grab prints of my art (including some large, fabulous acrylics and prints on wood) and even a tote bag or mug. Aha! Now you know why my brain is mush. All that site building is hard work.
Now where is my hair sculpting paste? I've got my eye on a roller-zoku gang updo.
Is it Thursday already? I seem to be in a swirling vortex of time on hyper-drive - the minutes and hours and days running past so quickly. Does it feel that way to you? I am determined to focus on right now despite this sense of frantic pace. In the studio, time stands still. The moment I leave its hallowed space, the rush is on. This little piece is from last week, a sweet girl whose name is Japanese and means "forest child". She reminds me to stop, head outside and get some nature time, because surely it will leave me with a smile and sense of peace.
I wish I had wisdom to share here today. It is a bit unnerving to sit down to write and realize my brain is mush. But just like days in the studio without inspiration, there are writing days which are drab and dull. WAIT JUST A GOSH-DARNED MINUTE! I am not going to give you drab and dull!
How about a little inspiration for your next hair style? Check out these portraits of Tokyo's Roller-Zoku gangs.
Or perhaps some Steampunk sculptural flying machines?
And finally, a little peek at my new site on Fine Art America, where you can grab prints of my art (including some large, fabulous acrylics and prints on wood) and even a tote bag or mug. Aha! Now you know why my brain is mush. All that site building is hard work.
Now where is my hair sculpting paste? I've got my eye on a roller-zoku gang updo.
- Published on
"Evolving Transfiguration" - mixed media on paper, 30" x 22". Inquiries: imajenation@gmail.com
A return to abstraction this week, with another full sheet of intuitive painting and a new figure emerging. This one took about a month of painting, walking away, painting some more, mulling and contemplating, painting again. I feel strength, hope and forward movement in this one. A mighty giant emerging from the mist.
So this past weekend was my first ever full set-up and tear-down festival, a trial run for a gypsy festival lifestyle and a chance to sort out all the little nuances. It went extremely well, right down to getting absolutely everything into my Prius! There is something magical about watching a city of tents go up in the early morning before the sun rises...quiet groups of sleepy artists creating something in a collaborative effort - a temporary town, a tiny community. As the day progresses, connections are formed, friendships made, stories swapped and advice shared. For two days, it is the entire world. And then, just as magically, the hamlet of huts is taken down, stored away, and a green space is once again just a park, quiet and empty. Like Burning Man, only very tame and with people fully clothed. :)
There was an auspicious sign mid way through the last day - a circular rainbow halo around the sun.
A return to abstraction this week, with another full sheet of intuitive painting and a new figure emerging. This one took about a month of painting, walking away, painting some more, mulling and contemplating, painting again. I feel strength, hope and forward movement in this one. A mighty giant emerging from the mist.
So this past weekend was my first ever full set-up and tear-down festival, a trial run for a gypsy festival lifestyle and a chance to sort out all the little nuances. It went extremely well, right down to getting absolutely everything into my Prius! There is something magical about watching a city of tents go up in the early morning before the sun rises...quiet groups of sleepy artists creating something in a collaborative effort - a temporary town, a tiny community. As the day progresses, connections are formed, friendships made, stories swapped and advice shared. For two days, it is the entire world. And then, just as magically, the hamlet of huts is taken down, stored away, and a green space is once again just a park, quiet and empty. Like Burning Man, only very tame and with people fully clothed. :)
There was an auspicious sign mid way through the last day - a circular rainbow halo around the sun.
We all shielded our eyes and stared up, fascinated by the phenomenon, but feeling a little spooked, like an alien invasion was imminent.
The science behind the halo is simple, and involves ice crystals high in the atmosphere. Which is funny considering we were melting in the heat and humidity far below! But it also is known to foretell extreme weather, which is racing across the southeast this week.
I wondered what this halo could mean in less scientific realms?
It is also called the "Whirling Rainbow" or "Sundog", and for some native people is considered a sign of great change. According to the Manataka, "the Whirling Rainbow is the promise of peace among all Nations and all people."
The Navajo-Hopi tradition says: "There will come a day when people of all races, colors, and creeds will put aside their differences.
The science behind the halo is simple, and involves ice crystals high in the atmosphere. Which is funny considering we were melting in the heat and humidity far below! But it also is known to foretell extreme weather, which is racing across the southeast this week.
I wondered what this halo could mean in less scientific realms?
It is also called the "Whirling Rainbow" or "Sundog", and for some native people is considered a sign of great change. According to the Manataka, "the Whirling Rainbow is the promise of peace among all Nations and all people."
The Navajo-Hopi tradition says: "There will come a day when people of all races, colors, and creeds will put aside their differences.
They will come together in love, joining hands in unification, to heal the Earth and all Her children. They will move over the Earth like a great Whirling Rainbow, bringing peace, understanding and healing everywhere they go. Many creatures thought to be extinct or mythical will resurface at this time; the great trees that perished will return almost overnight. All living things will flourish, drawing sustenance from the breast of our Mother, the Earth."
In these times of division and unrest, I find these thoughts comforting.
In these times of division and unrest, I find these thoughts comforting.
- Published on
"Wallace the Wooly Donkey" - pen and ink on paper, 16" x 12". Ready to frame. Available on etsy.
Is there anything quite as quirky and adorable as a mule? This piece was begun during the art festival last weekend, and the last doodle is now dry. While exploring cute donkeys online, I learned about the wooly variety. Long, ropey dreadlocks and twisted beards and eyebrows. Like a strange creature from an enchanted land.
It was the perfect subject for doodled malarkey.
Is there anything quite as quirky and adorable as a mule? This piece was begun during the art festival last weekend, and the last doodle is now dry. While exploring cute donkeys online, I learned about the wooly variety. Long, ropey dreadlocks and twisted beards and eyebrows. Like a strange creature from an enchanted land.
It was the perfect subject for doodled malarkey.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it's been a week of hospitals, slumber parties and spring, as my dad works through some complication from dialysis, family and friends monkey pile at our house in support of the paterfamilias, and signs of spring erupt all around us.
It's time again for pools of tadpoles, bales of turtles and baby ducks galore. The ducks must know when my niece is in town, because they line up waiting for her to come out and feed them, then leap into the air at her arrival. Tiny feathered cuties scurry between her feet, fearless and hungry.
We went for a walk recently and came across a mockingbird on a low tree branch giving a concert. So we stopped and listened, about six feet away from him, eye to eye. To our delight, he just kept on singing, regaling us with song after song, including even the screech of a hawk. We thought he might eventually run out of songs or fly away, but no, he was content to entertain us for as long as we stood there. He provided our theme music as we walked off into the sunset.
Our neighbors have begun to close up their houses for the season and return north, as temperatures rise and days lengthen. The art season will wind down over the next month, but there are still a few events ahead to entice folks outdoors. This weekend will be my first ever outdoor festival with the Delray Artists League at Veterans Park on Saturday and Sunday. If you're free, come on out for a bit of malarkey. It's just what the doctor ordered.
For more information and directions, click here.
It's time again for pools of tadpoles, bales of turtles and baby ducks galore. The ducks must know when my niece is in town, because they line up waiting for her to come out and feed them, then leap into the air at her arrival. Tiny feathered cuties scurry between her feet, fearless and hungry.
We went for a walk recently and came across a mockingbird on a low tree branch giving a concert. So we stopped and listened, about six feet away from him, eye to eye. To our delight, he just kept on singing, regaling us with song after song, including even the screech of a hawk. We thought he might eventually run out of songs or fly away, but no, he was content to entertain us for as long as we stood there. He provided our theme music as we walked off into the sunset.
Our neighbors have begun to close up their houses for the season and return north, as temperatures rise and days lengthen. The art season will wind down over the next month, but there are still a few events ahead to entice folks outdoors. This weekend will be my first ever outdoor festival with the Delray Artists League at Veterans Park on Saturday and Sunday. If you're free, come on out for a bit of malarkey. It's just what the doctor ordered.
For more information and directions, click here.
