Arting Around in SOVA

On My Easel

2012-02-12T23:24:00.000-05:00

Title not yet chosen, 20x16 cradled panel

I've been working on this oil painting for a couple of weeks; I'm as slow as molasses in February. Mostly, I sit in my comfortable chair and wonder what to do next--and I've eaten all the snacks that were stashed in the workshop.

Of course, there will be a logical (to me) explanation of this when I post the finished painting.

Bugged

2012-01-26T17:54:00.001-05:00

Bugged, watercolor on Arches, 13x14

Five years ago I dreamed I was at a party; a huge bug was attached to my back, and no one noticed. I thought the dream was odd; I sketched it while half-asleep.

I found the sketch tucked in a drawer and began the painting three weeks ago in a playful mood. I thought I'd try a bit of everything with watercolor--masking with torn painters' tape, washes, scrubbing, glazes, muddy colors. As the painting progressed, however, I realized the subject wasn't really funny--that I was painting my life. I'm always bugged by something but I smile or joke my way through--so how would anyone know I'm upset?

Art--cheaper than psychiatry. Now I'm really bugged.

The woman looks a bit like Miss Kitty from Gunsmoke or Margaret Thatcher and has quite a long arm reaching for that wine. I don't think wine will debug me--don't like the taste or the headache. I'll just have to keep painting; it usually helps.

He Walked

2012-01-08T12:21:00.000-05:00

He Walked, watercolor on arches, 10x12

I picked him up about ten miles outside town. It was shortly after the 9/11 attack and I had been listening to CNN coverage on my car radio. I said, "It was terrible what happened in New York." He said, "I didn't do it."

He didn't want me to drive him home so he got out of my car at the traffic light in town and began walking west--he had seven miles to go. Maybe he got another ride; maybe not.

I miss seeing him on the road. I imagine he still walks but no longer needs his cane and his back is straight.

(My mother taught me that whatever one does on New Year's Day, one does for the rest of the year so I began this painting at 10 p.m. on January 1.)

Awards and a Visit with Rembrandt

2012-01-05T20:26:00.000-05:00

I received a comment from SamArtDog. She said "Your blog is a treasure so I am passing along an award to you, The Liebster Blog Award." Your words, Sam, are all the award I need. I am honored, especially since your blog is one that I treasure. Sam has a mix of wonderful pastels, acrylics, the first iPhone paintings I ever saw, and photographs of a part of America I've never visited. I suspect that Sam has picked up a bit of "Southern" along the way--I think she likes my stories. Thank you, Sam.

Earlier, in November, Donna Iona Drozda named me as one of her 7 links. That was an honor, too--Donna's blog has wonderful paintings of women and beautiful wildlife; she encourages honoring the earth and following the cycles of the moon. I am usually slightly out of step but Donna and I read some of the same books back in the 70s so I feel part of the group. I failed to follow through on that award, too. Thank you, Donna.

And there were some earlier awards I didn't pick up.

Maybe I am just too content arting around here in southern Virginia and blogging about it. The best part of blogging is what I've learned from other bloggers. I considered adding a "No awards please" to the sidebar but it seemed a bit pretentious, especially since I hadn't received any at that time.

Yesterday, I arted around by visiting the Rembrandt exhibit in Raleigh. I think he may be a relative.

Rembrandt's self-portrait at age 65

My self-portrait at around 65 (white conte on black paper)

Notice the resemblence? His portrait of his red-haired sister reminded me of myself as a child, too.

Tonight, I've spent several hours sitting in front of the webcam, wearing a black fur hat (with the name James Hunter sewn inside), shining a flashlight on my face, trying to look like Rembrandt. I thought it would work but the flashlight washes out my wrinkles! Maybe I need a mustache.

I'm keeping the hat on for taking the trash to the curb. I haven't received my down coat yet--I guess the Eddie Bauer people are hung over from the holidays. AND I paid for shipping--should have waited; they were offering free shipping today.

Goodbye 2011

2011-12-30T16:13:00.000-05:00

Goodbye 2011, created in Corel Draw

When I dragged the trash to the curb last night it was cold. I wore two coats, gloves, and a hat. Willie always insists on helping and then he insists on a walk. After the cold walk, I came inside and ordered a long brown down coat. Then I imagined how I'll look on trash-to-the-curb nights as I played with Corel Draw (that's a plastic bag for poop in the pocket). Hopefully, hunters will not mistake me for a bear. I, of course, remember the Seinfeld episode when George wore his huge gore-tex coat.

Labeling the trash can 2011 is today's afterthought and seemed appropriate.

Happy New Year.

I don't make resolutions.
I hope to play and laugh more in 2012.
What about you?

Christmas of Yore

2011-12-23T11:29:00.000-05:00

Visit with Santa 1967, gouache on arches, 18x14

HO HO HO!

Merry Christmas

Inspiration for a Painting

2011-12-04T16:07:00.000-05:00

On Watch for Rustlers, gouache & wc on arches, 14x17

First drawing

Inspired by:

My Egypt by Charles Demuth (Whitney Museum)

I was perusing THE 20TH CENTURY ART BOOK when I saw this painting by Demuth. I didn't see a building; I saw boots and cowboy hat. I closed the book and made a quick sketch on green card stock--a cowboy and his dog/horse. Later I read that cattle rustling was on the rise in the West; I took that as a sign I should make a painting, and this one was pure fun--watercolor background and first time using gouache for the figure.

The gun (probably an over-and-under) was an afterthought; I thought the painting needed a vertical. Later when I looked at Demuth's painting I noticed the smokestack--it was probably buried in my subconscious. Wonder what else is there?

I always like my first childlike drawings. I added the grid later just to check placement--I believe that we have an innate sense of where things should be placed and can hit the marks without aiming.

Turkey Shopping

2011-11-22T12:34:00.000-05:00

Turkey Shopping, created in Corel Draw X5

I'm preparing for Thanksgiving; that doesn't mean I'm all work. I played with the drawing tools in Corel Draw--it's taken me a week to get this drawing from Corel into my blog (and, somehow, several inches of white got cropped from the top). Oh, well--I'm getting close.

Dip Mold, photo

Yesterday, while cleaning out the refrigerator to make room for the turkey, I found some old dip. The mold on top looked like sculpture, so I got out the camera. I see a reindeer, a rabbit head, a rear end, and some duck and pig feet--art is sometimes found right under our noses.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Circling the Thing Called Art

2011-11-09T22:01:00.000-05:00

Pencil Sketch of Dave, 5x5

My sketchbook is always handy but until three weeks ago I had never sketched in public. At an auto shop I got my chance; sitting across from me was a great model, my husband Dave. Both our Jeeps were at the dealer (54 miles away) for repairs. Dave's not very patient--he sat for a few minutes, left before I sketched his feet, and returned to a different seat.

Corel'd Dave

I recently bought Corel Draw Graphic Suite X5 (an upgrade because Suite 12 didn't work with Windows 7). I wanted to play with digital paint brushes and colors so I tried scanning the sketch into Corel--the scanner didn't work. We now have a new printer/scanner. Everything's working, thanks to a good friend, Sam Caparatta. Sam and Dave spent lots of time talking with "Tech." We bought a Windows 7 computer in January and it has taken me 10 months and a lot of cussing just to get back to where I was last year. I'm not sure this is progress; it's more like treading water and trying not to drown.

I took a 3-hour linoleum block printing class at
Convergence Art Guild, a real pleasure, taught by my sister-in-law Mary Wilkerson. My
subject was the chair next to my work
station. I added a cat the following day, Halloween, and only needed three bandaids.

Two-legged Chair, linoleum block, 7x5

I hope to do more linoleum block printing. My problem is I like the block itself--looks like bas relief , and I'm hesitant to cut pieces away for printing with more than one color. I just read THE COMPLETE PRINTMAKER, a book I've had for years; printmaking is definitely interesting.

Terry, charcoal drawing, 24x18

I attempted to draw my artist friend Terry during Thursdays at the Y Art. The easel contraption stood still; Terry didn't. When she appeared too thin, I took the easy way and made her head smaller. She said she had always thought she had a pinhead--ha. She was wrong when she said she lacked a sense of humor--we laugh a lot.

Longwood Park

I feared I had missed the autumn colors so I took my camera along when I voted yesterday; luckily, I wasn't too late.

Kinderton Golf Club

Clarksville Marina--3 blocks from my house

End of 4th, next to Marina--my favorite. Geese patrol this knoll during the summer.

And I'm still playing with my Winsor and Newton watercolors--nothing worth posting yet.

Halloween on Commerce Street

2011-10-31T20:29:00.000-04:00

On my street we like our natural decorations--very old half-dead trees, vultures, and spiders. Maybe that explains why no trick-or-treaters showed up. Now I have to eat all that candy!

These photos were taken on or from my front porch. Happy Halloween.

Chase City VA

2011-10-23T17:09:00.001-04:00

Chase City VA >or<
pastel on Wallis paper, 16x12

I finally got off my porch and made it to the next town. Chase City is about 15 miles away--a ride through the country side; then suddenly there's a view from an overpass that reminds me of Baltimore. This is it--more or less. I moved the water tower and omitted a few buildings. For this view I'd have to look up and down; right and left. I will add that Chase City has some very beautiful homes, and MacCallum More Museum and Gardens (where I've exhibited my work) is there. For painting, I chose the grittier side.

The tall building in the center has lettering on the bricks:

THE

SOUHT
SIDE

ROLLER

RINK

My guess is that the sign painter, after climbing down the 30-foot ladder, said, "I'm not climbing up again to change it to SOUTH SIDE--people will know what it means." Actually, the sign can't be read from the road (most of these buildings are falling down)--I noticed it when I zoomed in with the camera. From making posters I know how easy it is to transpose letters.

Update Oct. 31. I just learned from my friend Everett's comment that this was a ROLLER MILL--not a Rink. I guess that means a grist mill where flour was made. I learn something new every day.

This work has been an education in how not to work with pastels. I began the painting at the Y; then continued at home in the upstairs bedroom. My nose was completely stopped up from pastels. I looked at this the following morning and thought, "What crap." I took it outside, whacked it against the side of the house, then used a house painter's brush to remove all the pastel.

I started again--got about three-quarters through and suddenly decided I should glue the paper to an Ampersand board. To ventilate the workshop while spraying glue I opened both doors; then had trouble with placement of the paper--15 minutes is a long time to hold one's breath. I covered the painting with wax paper, rolled it to remove bubbles, and used three of my wallpaper sample books to weight it down. It worked.

I then put the painting on my "big easel" (for you, Celeste) and applied pastels to the sky and water tower. The pale blue fell down onto my buildings! It looked like sheets of rain. I cleaned it up by blowing the dust and repainting; now I believe it's almost finished.

First I need to figure out how to cut off the top two extra inches of Wallis paper (18x12) without smearing the work; I cropped the photo. I don't want to think about framing--glass, spacer, frame, fingerprints, etc. I'll worry about that later; I just ordered a set of watercolors.

Shelter

2011-09-28T22:44:00.000-04:00

Shelter, acrylic on linen panel, 12x12

Earlier this summer, as I let our dog Willie out for his last pit stop each night, I was delighted to see small birds sleeping in the corners of the porch. They'd turn their heads, look at me, and tuck themselves back into their corners. Once, around midnight, the moon had tucked itself into a corner, too. I made several sketches (below) before painting. Our street has street lights--rather than shoot them out, I guessed at how the scene might look on a dark cool night, and added the house at the top of the street (actually it's my impression of the house--can't see it from my porch). I can tell by the light (which needs to be dimmed along with my signature) that my neighbor's home--upstairs, probably at the computer.

1st sketch

2nd sketch

Interesting that I see these columns at least ten times a day and don't know their curves until I paint them. This is probably the fourth time these columns have appeared in my paintings; one day, I might get past my front porch and paint other streets or towns.

I just re-read The Writing Life by Annie Dillard. She is so right--the artist or writer begins with a vision; time and materials hound the work; the vision recedes. At the end, you have a replacement of the vision--a page.

Drawn from Life and Virtual Walking in New Orleans

2011-09-16T23:07:00.000-04:00

Drawing of me, 20x16
©Terry S. Denton
(I have trouble taking photos of drawings on white paper.)

Yesterday--Thursday--was my Art at the Y day. I was joined by a wonderful artist, Terry Smith Denton. I've known Terry for a number of years; our first meeting was at my sister-in-law's restaurant (when her husband Mike put out a fire I accidentally started). We usually talk at the grocery store, and her cart is usually filled with healthy stuff (unlike mine). Being with her for three hours at the Y was a real treat. She has a degree from VCU (sculpture) and attended Pratt. When I was in the suburbs in the 70s (driving that station wagon) she was a hippie--alas, I was born too early. I like hearing about NYC and other places, and the art world she has known. My town is lucky that Terry and Mike chose this area--they live waaay out of town (beyond the internet), take care of their oodles of acres, and their goats and chickens. Terry had a great exhibit last year, mostly portraits, and Mike builds docks and houses and has worked at getting our local airport up to speed.

Terry set up a still life yesterday--a vintage stuffed monkey (Percy, I believe). First, she finished the drawing of me; then finished two great drawings of Percy. Hmmm.....I was the warm up for a stuffed monkey? My husband loves the sketch and thinks it looks exactly like me. I think it's a bit flattering but I recognize my extra chin, my missing neck, my mother's nose, my dad's long upper lip--and I'm wearing my ever-present hoops and a men's shirt from the thrift shop. Yep, that's me. I would not have been able to pose for something like this; she sketched me while I was drawing New Orleans (below). I hope to submit it to TheVirtualPaintOut--a first for me--hope I can follow directions.

720 Brooklyn Avenue, pencil, 9x7

I chose this scene on my virtual walkabout in New Orleans because I liked the wires and the poles (and I got tired of walking).

Hurricane Irene

2011-08-30T18:12:00.001-04:00

Summer Wardrobe, graphite on gray paper, 8x8

Two and a half days without the internet--I felt I should do something productive while it was down (re-connected this morning).

I reviewed my summer wardrobe--a linen jacket with huge pockets (pants are someplace), old but goodie Eileen Fisher black slacks, a silk blouse, an old but goodie DKNY blazer, a black "funeral" dress, and a silk print blouse. I didn't move these to a closet; instead, I drew them. Now I know where my extra hangers are!

Imitating Art

I put away varnishing and framing materials (cleared some walking space in the workshop). Last week, before varnishing, I had to try imitating Painter's Salute--setting the timer on the camera, grabbing the paintbrush, and running around the counter to get into position. Not easy. On Friday I had delivered this painting to Convergence Art Guild in Halifax VA for an upcoming exhibit of self-portraits.

Virginia 13-year Cicada

On the way to my workshop to frame Tabernacle Road yesterday I noticed a dead cicada--picked it up, blew off the ants, and spray varnished the big fellow. He's on a slice of cucumber on a Fiesta plate. Canape anyone?

Southside Virginia was fortunate--Irene (the middle name given to me at birth) brought hours of wind and rain but no damage and no loss of power. We lost our Verizon internet connection because it comes out of the Hampton Roads (East Coast) area--they had major damage.

Let's see--one hurricane and one earthquake--do cicadas count as locusts?

Tonight I'll catch up on all the blogs I follow.

VA Earthquake

2011-08-23T17:11:00.003-04:00

My house, August 23, 2011 at 1:51 p.m.

I was in the right place--upstairs, kneeling beside my bed. I wasn't really doing the right thing-- I was retrieving a bottle of acrylic medium from under the bed (yes, a few art supplies are stashed there).

As I got up, I noticed the bed shaking and thought some huge animal had gotten inside and was jumping around; then I noticed the ceiling fans swaying. I stared at a vase moving on top of a pile of books and realized what was happening. I headed downstairs where my husband, in the computer room, was staring at a picture that had fallen onto the floor, and Willie, our dog, was on alert. We just waited; we never thought of going outside.

Across-the-street neighbors called and my up-the-street brother called; he said he moved here from California to get away from such things. About 120 miles south of the epicenter--we felt it.

My Wallpaper Samples Adventure

2011-08-21T00:24:00.001-04:00

One huge book of wallpaper samples on my dining room table

The adventure began several weeks ago. After lunch with a couple of friends, one picked up some paint at Sherwin Williams. Since it was 100 degrees outside we all went in and I sat at the table that's set up for selecting wallpaper. Out of the blue I decided to ask what they did with their old wallpaper books. The young man said they're thrown out, so I left my card and asked if he'd call me--I thought the pages would be neat backgrounds for paintings (and I love recycling things). He called and I picked them up last Saturday. I carried one eight-pound book into the house and loved all the patterns and colors. I couldn't wait.

I immediately tore a small piece out of the book, then tore a sheet of watercolor paper in half, glued it down and got out a few acrylics--alizarin, umber and white. Using a large brush I played--I liked it-- but the paper was a bit wrinkled.

The next day, I used a ruler to tear out a beautiful beige 8x11 piece. In my kitchen I coated the paper with acrylic medium and set it on the deck to dry. Whoops--it's raining. I ran out and brought it inside--no harm done. It was off to the workshop to paint. Paint what? I spotted an old yearbook and picked a faded photo. I painted; then I hated the beige background with the skin color, so I covered it with black. Next, I coated the back of the painting with acrylic medium; then I glued it to a piece of mat board. That's when I began to wonder why I hadn't just used one of my primed canvases or panels; after all, I had completely covered the background--my whole reason for using wallpaper! I could have saved several days.

And it's not a good portrait!

She looks better tightly cropped.

So-------need any wallpaper sample books?

It was a wasted week but fun and I'll try it again. I think I've defined the problem--I picked up 13 heavy books on the 13th of the month. I usually don't leave the house on that date.

Southern Virginia

2011-08-12T20:06:00.000-04:00

Looking East, graphite/white pencil on gray paper, 7x7

Sometimes, when driving home in the late afternoon, it's hard to keep my eyes on the road. The sky is always beautiful. I recently detoured to a side road and checked the view from atop what I've always known as Tharpe's Hill--just off Route 58. I looked east towards my hometown of Clarksville and saw about fifteen miles of rolling hills and tree tops--all green. A great place to live and breathe.

I'm still playing with my pencils. This paper is from a Martha Stewart pad, something I picked up at Michael's, for crafting I believe. It's acid-free--grays and browns-- but has a sheen; not the best for drawing but it was handy and fun.

Sheet!

2011-08-05T20:21:00.000-04:00

Sheet!, graphite on bristol, 14x11

A guest is arriving tomorrow--an old friend. I'm setting up the guest house and I always have trouble getting the top sheet even on all sides of the bed. I never know if the finished hem should go down or up. This is when I wonder if I should have skipped an art class and taken a home economics class in high school. Nah--my housekeeping methods are more fun. I'm grateful that my mother never taught me anything about housework or cooking (I suspect she didn't have the patience). She did ask me once to slice cabbage for coleslaw; I suggested we pass the cabbage around and have everyone take a bite.

After searching for a couple of weeks, I found my tin of graphite pencils three days ago. Despite my intentions of readying the house for company I couldn't resist drawing--hiding out upstairs with my pencils H & B through 9.

Now I'm off to put those sheets on the bed; I hope there's no graphite on them. I'll be ready for my guest by 2 p.m. tomorrow; if not, the refrigerator is stocked with his favorite drink and I've made dinner reservations at his favorite area restaurant.

April on the Front Porch

2011-07-25T23:58:00.107-04:00

April on the Front Porch, acrylic on canvas, 30x24

Hallelujah--I think April is 98 percent finished. I originally blogged about her on May 23 (I should have listened to that voice that was saying "larger.") After she grew, I felt she needed a throne rather than a metal outdoor chair so I had to visit the thrift shop and look at chairs--all mine are modern. (Here in southern VA we don't really have indoor furniture on our front porches, but I did have a toilet sitting in the front yard for a while.) I wanted an old Coke bottle as a vase but mine's gone missing; at midnight, I substituted a piece of van Briggle pottery--that meant getting the ladder and retrieving the vase from a high shelf. My paintings sometimes become projects and I work through the night.

I like that April's arms are wing-like and her legs resemble the Colonel's drumsticks and thighs.

When I signed this I was listening to KD Lang and the Reclines; KD was singing "Big Boned Woman." I imagine April dancing at the Legion Hall.

This is not my first work with a woman and rooster; there was a sculpture 20 years ago--Mystic Woman aka Chick with a Chick (photo below). She was sold to a sculptor from West Virginia.

terra cotta and white clay, 24" h

Convergence Art Guild in Halifax VA

2011-07-19T20:35:00.003-04:00

Waiting for Harry, acrylic on panel, 20x16

I hung a few paintings at CAG, 99 Main Street in Halifax VA. Among them is an early acrylic, Waiting for Harry.

Harry was our letter carrier in Brookeville MD in the 70s, when Brookeville was still mostly rural. One woman liked to wait at her mailbox for Harry and, in cold weather, she sometimes wore only her fur coat (don't know how Harry knew that). I never met her but I imagined she might look like this. I like the impatient attitude and the knife-wielding shadow in this one.

Wrench Stole my Muse

2011-07-08T16:53:00.003-04:00

Wrench Stole my Muse, inktense pencils on w/c paper, 18x24

Thursday is Art-at-the-Y day and I had nothing in mind. I remembered that a heavy wrench from the thrift shop had been riding in my back seat for a couple of weeks. I grabbed the manikin and set this up on a cardboard box--lighting at the Y is not good.

The manikin was a gift from my neighbor Carol--it had belonged to her late husband Lamar. Lamar was a saxophonist/choreographer/dancer/artist/human resources director/sociologist/truck driver/motorcycle rider.... and the best story teller I've ever met. He would have liked this drawing. His manikin usually sits atop the bookcase in my living room, always in a dance pose.

This needs a bit more work.

Cedar at Cedar Grove Plantation

2011-07-01T17:03:00.002-04:00

What a Cedar!, w/c sticks on w/c board, 24x18

I began this yesterday, thinking that it would be simple and I'd finish at least one thing during the month of June. It didn't happen--at midnight I realized there were too many background trees and branches so I'm calling it finished on July 1.

Cedar Grove Plantation (on the National Register of Historic Places) is nearby. When I visited I found the trees and the cemetery more interesting than the large house, guest cottages, barns, landscaping, and antiques. I could be called a tree hugger. "Peace," also a scene from Cedar Grove, is from an earlier blog.

Peace, alkyd, 12x12 (sold)

Happy Fourth of July!

Sidetracked by a Dumpster Dog

2011-06-24T17:00:00.000-04:00

Dumpster Dog, 3x3 sketch on lined paper

A few people (thanks, Celeste) have asked why there has been no new post in a month. I had planned to finish the painting April when my guests left. I tried, but my heart was sidetracked when I saw a skinny dog lying in the shade of a dumpster as I was rushing to a routine doctor's visit. He wasn't there when I returned with some food and water. I'd like to think that he lived in the neighborhood and strolled down to check out the dumpster, but I know that uncaring people sometimes dump their dogs. The picture stuck and I've probably made about 20 small sketches. The one above was done with markers that were handy--lime green, yellow, orange & bue, a ball point pen, and a sea green pencil.

I remember the scene, but drawing the dog from memory isn't easy. I made the mistake of googling images of stray dogs. Don't go there; I had to stop--then I couldn't sleep.

I sometimes wish I didn't see so much--rose-colored glasses would be nice. And, yes, I might have to paint this, though I can't imagine anyone hanging it on their wall.

Now I'm hoping to get back to April.

April Delayed til June

2011-05-23T16:51:00.003-04:00

April in SoVA, acrylic in progress, 30x24

April weather in southern Virginia was beautiful; we sat on our front porches as the irises bloomed. That's the month I started this painting and expected to be finished in a few days. I really wanted her feet to be included but there was that voice as I began painting the head: "Make her larger, make her larger."

Maybe I spent too much time sitting on the porch or, maybe I spent too much time "arting around" with this. April is running a bit behind schedule.

Early sketch--I think I know her.

I don't know this person;
I was thinking of Picasso exhibit.

Drawn on running-out-of-ink print; she looks familiar.

Don't recognize this one--really low on ink.
I think of Frances Bacon's cross-legged self portrait.

Don't know her but I like this one....
she might actually have a pet rooster.

Company is arriving for the Memorial Day weekend; I won't be back at the easel until June. I have no idea what the final April will look like--now I'm thinking about an August painting.

I have begun putting my name on works posted here because I've seen some in Google images--and not always attributed to my blog.

Opening Soon (really!) in South Boston VA

2011-05-18T23:13:00.006-04:00

Corner of Main Street & Seymour, South Boston VA

Once upon a time (in 2010) my brother and sister-in-law, Bob and Mary Wilkerson, bought a building. They've worked on it for at least a year--now it's beautiful. Here's a sneak peek at Southern Plenty. You can get an in-person peek tomorrow night (19th) during Third Thursday in South Boston--from 6 to 8:30 p.m.

Yes, there are lots of books.

And works of art--paintings, prints, pottery, jewelry.
We can sit at these tables and enjoy Mary's cooking again!

We can browse the one-of-a-kind items (some made by Mary).

And carefully admire the pottery.

Some of my paintings are hanging on the wall.

Hooray for nepotism!

Southern Plenty, 206 Main Street, will open for business Wednesday May 25.

Mother's Day 2011

2011-05-07T21:56:00.001-04:00

Non-working Woman, terra cotta, 14"

In the mid-1960s, we stay-at-home-Moms were sometimes called non-working women. Ha! I remember long days without pay and no time off; I also remember my mother's hard work. It's a tough job--the payoff comes when the kids are responsible adults and you have time to smell the flowers they send, and being a grandmother is great.

Happy Mother's Day.

These sculptures are from the 60s, 70s, and 80s.

soapstone

terra cotta

Doorknobs and Blown Fuses

2011-04-25T16:56:00.001-04:00

Doorknobs and Blown Fuses, pencile and ink, 4x4 on steno pad

What can I say? I bought eight porcelain doorknobs at an estate sale. During remodeling I bought some at $50 per set; I can't resist a bargain. They may appear in future paintings. My back hurts when I stand straight; I hate pain that suddenly appears for no reason--I may blow a fuse. Back pain+doorknobs+fuses= drawing; makes perfect sense to me.

The Picasso exhibit is still fresh in my memory. Yes, I do have good paper but steno pads are useful for grocery lists, pro- and con- lists, sketches, paper airplanes, and fans.

After Picasso

Pitcher in a Striped Shirt?

Flasher?

I'm Still Following You

2011-04-16T22:03:00.004-04:00

Today, I realized that my photo ID does not appear on most of my friends' Google Followers Gadgets. I believe this happened when my blog died for a while last month. By the time I managed to resuscitate my blog all traces of me had disappeared from my followers' blogs. Sorry about that--I haven't been able to fix it; I can't sign up as a new follower and I can't get to settings under "blogs I follow" to work on it. On my dashboard I actually follow 100+ blogs; I read them all but don't leave comments on most.

So just pretend I'm hanging behind you, looking over your shoulder, reading every word as you type--and probably making suggestions. (I can read upside-down.)

If you get a new follower, it could be old me--I'm still trying.

This photo is one of several I took for a 2009 blog entry, Arting with Gravity--fun with the camera and a tangerine bag.

Picasso Exhibit at VMFA

2011-04-10T17:01:00.001-04:00

VMFA Member Apres Picasso Exhibit, pastel 12x9

Planning is not something I do well, but tickets are required for viewing the Picasso exhibit at VMFA in Richmond--a two-hour drive. Last week, I decided it was now-or-never and got myself to the museum Thurday at 3 p.m.--one of the extended-hours days. A friend and fellow member accompanied me--she knows Richmond (I can only recall two previous trips to that city).

Eleven rooms filled with pieces from the Musee National Picasso, Paris--almost overwhelming. I could have used a break half-way through--not allowed. Nothing compares to seeing paintings and sculpture in person; his joy in creating can almost be felt. He seemed to slop on the paint in some places and leave the canvas bare in others. I saw chubby hands, short legs, and long legs. He created paintings of sculptures and sculptures of paintings; I could not pick a favorite piece; "Woman Throwing a Rock" came close.

We had dinner at the Museum's Amuse restaurant and admired the setting--the chairs (Bertoia?), the lights (Nelson?), the shades on the windows, the tall wine glasses, and the round green flowers on each Saarinen? table. The pastel above is "after Picasso" and is not a self-portrait; I, of course, wore sensible walking shoes with socks! This was fun and I'd like to try the style again with acrylics or oil.

A quick tour of the museum revealed large works by Guston (loved it), Stella, Dine, Murray and Twombly. I'll definitely be returning; I regret that I missed the German Expressionist exhibit and the Chuck Close exhibit.

I was once very close to Picasso's signature. A friend who'd cleaned out his mother's garage gave me lots of books; among them, Picasso, the Early Years. Months later, I realized that I had one of 350 copies signed by the artist. I took a photo of my hand almost touching the signature; then I returned the book.

My Moss is Greener

2011-04-03T18:39:00.005-04:00

In the Mossy Woods, oil on panel, 16x20

I like the painting/I hate the painting--can't decide. It's a bit maudlin; yet, I suspect Garry Trudeau's Far Side bears are lurking behind the trees. I've read that green should be avoided in paintings, but the moss in my back yard is definitely green.

Three thoughts occurred to me when I was painting (& it's not quite finished). First, everything is/was alive except the figure. Second, my favorite playground was the mossy woods. Third, some of us never got past getting teary-eyed over every injured or dead animal.

Ah. Surely, nothing dies but something mourns"......Byron.

The deer skull was rescued from a local SPCA thrift shop where I volunteered. I bought the figurine from a MD thrift shop (a volunteer there, too) 20 years ago; she reminded me of myself as a child, a shy redhead. She's crudely heavy and sloppily painted. Unlike me, she can look in two directions at once.

A Forgotten Sculpture

2011-03-21T22:16:00.000-04:00

I had forgotten about this sculpture from 20 years ago, using white, gray, and red clay. My son took the photos and emailed them down today (the shadows may be from stained glass front windows). I am reminded of tragedies in Japan and Haiti.

I'm not sure it had a title--maybe, Together. The thought was, no matter what race or religion, in the end we share the same world.

This was left in Maryland. Not only did our son get a good deal on buying our house, I took the easy route in moving and left a lot of stuff--clay, furniture, lawn mower, snow blower, sculpture.......he's considered charging me storage fees.

Unable to Comment

2011-03-17T23:00:00.004-04:00

Missing my comments the last few days? I tried--many times. I tried so many times that Google said there was unusual activity (it was me trying to comment) and denied access to my email account. Then my blog disappeared for a while. All is straightened out now. While I was working on gathering tax papers, my husband was installing IE9 on the desktop and the laptop. With those upgrades, I could not post comments on either computer. Cussing didn't help.

For a while I thought the blog universe was getting even with me for a comment I posted on William Cook's site earlier this week--something like "Why does your second drawing remind me of my mother grinding sausage?" His drawings were beautiful; his words were about star charts, string theory, and Calubi-You manifold. What? Check out his blog.

Some of you might have thought I was prescient--first I paint a cemetery; then I disappear. I'm back. I'll catch up on comments soon.

Tabernacle Road in Winter

2011-03-05T23:22:00.002-05:00

Tabernacle Road in Winter, oil on gessoed w/c paper, 18x24

I don't normally paint local landscapes; everything is usually just green. For ten years I have passed this scene and just noticed it last Sunday--I liked the farm on the hill--so I went out with my camera Monday. Seventy-mile-an-hour winds and no sun; I held onto my camera as I held onto the flagpole at The Tabernacle. Everyone blew their horns, a form of greeting here in SOVA. (Whoever you were, I couldn't wave back.) I rode up to the farm--it's abandoned--the house, barn, and outbuildings are falling down. Sad. This was an area of tobacco farms and textile mills--beautiful country with rolling hills, creeks and rivers.

I used the photo as reference but much got eliminated and even tombstones got moved. My original pastel sketch reminded me of Thomas Hart Benton.

hmm..........Thursday was my birthday and I was painting a graveyard.

Man & Lure

2011-02-24T17:24:00.002-05:00

Man & Lure, oil, 12x12 canvas panel

This is alla prima (about two hours) and first time trying water-soluble oils.

I don't know this person--if he were younger, he might be the guy who waxed my car last year. This was pure play. My son's fishing gear is stored in my workshop--instead of a shirt, this guy got a fishing pole and a fluffy yellow lure. I managed to avoid the hooks.

I may add hair and eyebrows later--maybe not. Maybe a hat!

Reading and Breathing and Drawing

2011-02-20T16:36:00.002-05:00

Hmm, pencil sketch on cheap paper, 12x9

I've been reading. I get lost in the books; while reading, my only other activities are breathing and drawing (which are the same thing--I can't do one without the other).

First, I read Color and Light by James Gurney--an excellent book--so good that I made notes. Now I realize that I'll never find those notes when I'm painting; hopefully, I'll be able to locate the book. I also read Oil Painting Step-by-Step, a 1953 book by A. L. Guptill.

pencil, 5x4

I tried to discard a February 2009 issue of Vanity Fair but there were some great full-page closely-cropped photos of the previous administration and a 25-page article titled "Farewell to All That." I had to re-read the article and drew (No. 2 pencil) a couple of the photos by Philippe Sands--I skipped the President, the Vice President and Rove. These two were enough.

pencil, 12x9

From the magazine George I copied the arm from the photograph "Redhead" by Paul Outerbridge, and re-read the article. (No. 2 pencil)

3-Legged Woman, ink on yupo, 10x8

Then I tried Yupo for the first time, using walnut ink and the end of a crochet hook (couldn't find the bamboo stick). The paper is very slippery and the ink runny--thus a 3-legged woman.

Web Removal

2011-02-03T23:47:00.000-05:00

Spiderbelle? pastel on Wallis sanded paper, 16x10

A germ of an idea from last month. When I was clearing my workshop of spiderwebs I realized I always open my mouth when I look up. My mother called this posture "catching flies." I thought of painting it but there are many paintings of people looking up screaming--scrap that one. From that idea to this painting:

1: A woman looking up, open-mouthed, holding a broom. 2: Add the fan and a spider web. 3: Which fan? We have 3-blade fans w/lights, 5-blade w/o lights, and 4-blade w/o lights--make one up. 4: Draw it with pastels on Wallis sanded paper (a new experience). 5. Decide that one of the fan blades should mirror the angle of the lifted arm. Erase the whole drawing with triangular sponge makeup thingys. 6. Find a lifted arm--found one in a 1946 book, The Dance--right arm of Isadora Duncan. Close the book and imagine the arm. 8. Remember the beginning of the TV show "Zorro." Can I get a "Z" in here--from the fan blade/broom/arm? 8. Tape the paper to a foam board, find some rubbing alcohol, get the Holbein pastels out of the workshop and go to the YMCA for Thursday (today) art. 9. Use the Holbein pastels for wall and ceiling; realize they're OIL pastels--retrieve the soft pastels from the car. Carry on with alcohol and pastels.

I like it. Now I'm deciding--

Add clothes? Facial features? Hands? Spider webs hanging from fan? Or, just work on the broom handle and call it finished?

FYI: I paint like I sculpt--build a nude, then add clothes. No, this is definitely not a self-portrait--it's not even my arm.

The Fisherman that Got Away

2011-01-22T17:02:00.002-05:00


Fisherman Unknown, inktense pencils & pen on hot press w/c paper, 10 x 14

I live on 50,000-acre Buggs Island Lake here in Southern Virginia (called Kerr Lake in NC). Fishing and fishing tournaments are popular. Five years ago I saw two photos on a local site, printed them out, and naively thought I'd run into this fisherman and ask permission to do a painting of the other photo--one of him and his friend in a boat near a tree-lined shore--holding a 50/60-pound catfish. No such luck so no such painting. Most of the photos on the site are of gigantic fish (I think this one was posted as a joke).

Who's the Fairest?, pencil & ink on hot press w/c paper, 12 x 10

I wonder which came first in Holland--windmills or tulips? I find aging tulips more interesting than those in their prime (this photo was taken by my son). Age has been on my mind this week. I was at President Kennedy's inaugural parade fifty years ago; I was eighteen and remember being on Pennsylvania Avenue climbing on piles of snow--wearing high heels, no hat, and no gloves. As a Southerner I was not prepared for DC's sometimes harsh winters--I learned.

I recently finished reading Egon Schiele, a book discussed on RHCarpenter's blog. I'm still looking at his drawings, watercolors, and oils; I especially liked his line drawings. However, I still draw the same way I've been drawing since elementary school--use whatever's handy and add a black outline if I'm so inclined.

Tall & Thin in Just Three Days

2011-01-11T23:53:00.002-05:00


Painter's Salute or Oh Crap, What have I Done? acrylic, 36 x 24

After weeks of cleaning I needed to try my new easel. I looked through my list of paintings to be done; I looked for inspiration and found none. Finally I headed to the workshop just to splash some paint onto the easel. I found a 10-year-old canvas--it was the only painting support I could easily reach--and propped it up. That's when I spotted my image in a small mirror about 10 feet away. I had hung it when I was clearing the workshop--a 70s Danish Modern rosewood piece, 7 inches wide and 20 inches tall. With that piece I feng sui'd the workshop--the mirror faces the lake.

I couldn't see all of me at one time so I ended up tall and thin and looking like Miss Hathaway from the Beverley Hillbillies. I recognize some parts--the oversized Abercrombie & Fitch corduroy shirt that reaches to my knees (found at a community yard sale for $1), my magnified bad eye (my left but reversed in the painting), and my long black underwear (good for cold weather). It's impossible to look at my hand when I'm using it to paint! This painting was fun and is not quite finished.

I never got the counter cleared. The empty easel box served as the perfect surface for holding my paints and palette. One more day to finish the painting; then it's back to clearing clutter (including the box). Mirror is upper right, next to ladder.

Loose Screws

2011-01-04T22:13:00.004-05:00

Untitled, terra cotta, 1992

I suspect I have a few loose screws. While most people partied for the Holidays, I cleaned out my studio/workshop to make room for a new easel. Seven days of manual labor--this was not the brightest idea.

My Richeson easel arrived Monday afternoon.

I decided I could handle and assemble a 98-pound easel.

Lots of pieces--and a winch and pulley!

Winch Warning: Not for Humans.

I had my Leatherman tool.

I couldn't resist the comfy box and the easel was perfect for rigging up the camera. Getting into the box before the self-timer blinked wasn't easy--getting out of this box and up off the floor was even harder. My right shoulder was aching!

All set; everything works. I have to clean off the counter and find my paints. Tomorrow, a trip to the dumpster.

May you soar in 2011

2011-01-01T00:37:00.004-05:00

conte

pencil

For the past month, I've been drawing these birds again. These are old sketches found while trying to clear out my workshop. Maybe someone should write a song called "Yellow Bird."

I've been cleaning my workshop (another attempt) for four days--so far, I have one clean spot. Instead of a resolution for the New Year, I opted for an incentive. I ordered a Santa Fe II easel last week (on sale and a rebate) which will be delivered Monday afternoon--it will require space. I have looked at oak easels for several years and worried about the wood warping in the workshop because it's a separate building, and no heat or air conditioning unless I'm out there. Recently I thought, What the Hell--I'll warp before the easel warps; order the thing. As I cleaned I inventoried supplies, moved boxes of photographs into the guest house, and stacked things on the porch (to be moved to the storage shed or Good Will).

Here are some of the interesting things I found--charcoal drawings of my two kids from the 60s.

Items from my brother's run for the Virginia Senate (bags and a tire cover for my Jeep); also, a 20-foot banner from my husband's run for town council.

This photo of "my relatives" will continue to hang on the bathroom wall.
Photographer unknown.

I'm off to check my lottery tickets; I might have won $200+ million! If so, I'll skip the cleaning and build another workshop just for the easel.
HAPPY NEW YEAR

Christmas

2010-12-24T12:42:00.000-05:00

First Christmas for Willie 2007

I hope Santa makes it to your house.

Happy Holidays

2010-12-14T17:54:00.000-05:00

Escape, ink on paper

It's that time of year. I think of leaving until mid-January--a cruise might be nice (although there have been rough waters recently).

Evidently, escape has always been on my mind. When I was four or five, I'd borrow Mom's high heels, get her pocketbook, and wait for the Greyhound bus to take me away. Odd, isn't it, that my parents allowed me to play beside the highway?

When I get the stance right, this will be a painting. Okay, maybe I'll work on my size, too--I'm taller than the Amoco sign! For the drawing, I moved the King Edward Cigar sign (great for target-practice) across the road.

Happy Holidays. I'll be working on cards, shopping, and minimal decorating (nothing stops me from drawing, though).

What Cleaning Ladies?

2010-12-01T21:27:00.003-05:00

This is what the house looked like when we moved back in after remodeling five years ago. This is what I hope the house will look like again. The cleaning ladies never showed up--we hired them as a favor to a friend. Was it because I said "no copper polish, no Pledge on my furniture, and no scouring of the countertop?" Was it me? Was the floor too much? Too much dirt? I think I'm more relieved than disappointed (and a bit ticked off that I got out of bed early--8 a.m.).

Dave and I were not surprised when they didn't show; it's a common occurrence here in southern Virginia. Contractors and workers smile and take measurements and say "yes;" many never return or call. Later--when you meet at restaurants or parties--everyone pretends that all is well. I pitch their cards.

I am pleased that, after my frantic prep work, there's a chance the house will be ready for the Holidays. Tomorrow is art day at the YMCA--no cleaning.

Adolescent Pears

2010-11-30T20:17:00.001-05:00


Adolescent Pears, pencil on cover stock, 7x7

I bought some Luminance 6901 pencils--they are wonderful on hot-press water color paper. Of course, I drew this on computer cover stock. Why? I was just sketching a scene that's been in my brain for several years, I imagine fruits and vegetables play around when everyone's in bed. I worked on this for several nights before falling asleep--and who needs a model for pears or cups? Obviously, I do. I thought I had cups that looked like these--I don't. And try fitting a pear into a cup in this manner. I got the countertop correct but these subway tiles are waaay too wide. What the heck; I like it and had fun--I might just paint it.

I was drawing at night because I've been cleaning my house--anticipating the cleaning ladies who are scheduled to show up tomorrow. First, I found my ironing board--buried under art supplies--and read directions for the steam iron (I skipped HomeEc). I have washed and ironed seven ivory Pottery Barn linen drape/shades (I would have ordered new ones but they're no longer a Pottery Barn item); the window sills are clean; the top of my stove is clean; the dining room table is almost cleared of catalogs; the outside of the microwave is clean; most of the kitchen backsplash tile is clean; and I washed and ironed six hand-painted pillow covers. Why do I like off-white and ivory? Tonight I will tackle the inside of the microwave and clean the hard-to-reach corners of the backsplash. Thank goodness the cleaning ladies aren't going upstairs--I'd be exhausted. (The art supplies from atop the ironing board are piled on the floor.)

I'm beginning to think senescence is a lot like adolescence--tomorrow night I go back to playing for two weeks. Maybe I can play neatly.

Copper Bowl and The Three Pears

2010-11-22T16:48:00.001-05:00


Copper Bowl and The Three Pears, acrylic on 24x24 cradled panel

Several bloggers mentioned and recommended the book, Alla Prima, by Richard Schmid. I bought it and read it--actually studied it. Sometimes a little knowledge can be dangerous; sometimes ignorance is bliss. I thought I'd whip out a painting from a pear photograph I had taken in my kitchen--I estimated it would be done in a couple of days. I used open acrylics and set up a palette, forgoing my usual ketchup cup/paper plate method. I was actually concerned that the painting might be so easy I'd lose interest. Ha!

That was ten days ago. I spent half a day looking for my copper bowl (it was hiding among other copper bowls) and I've eaten about twelve pears--I needed the real things. I tried palette-knifing the dish towel. It was interesting but did not look like my work; I spent half a day sanding those palette-knife marks. Then there was a cricket-rescue from the utility sink in my studio--a major delay in cleaning brushes. I wouldn't classify this painting as alla prima--more alla Hallie, although I resisted the urge to add a couple of bare feet in the background. I think it's finished.

Happy Thanksgiving.

My Garden Grew--and Grew

2010-11-05T17:29:00.005-04:00

Homage to the South

This photograph (one succulent planted in an outgrown dog toy) represents 100 percent of my gardening during the past three years. It sits on the front porch railing and is a nod to my roots, where petunias are sometimes planted in old tires.

We have very good grass cutters and leaf picker-uppers but it was time for more than maintenance. Shrubs were overgrown, ivy was reaching under the back porch of my workshop, and rose bushes were buried under hollies and camellias. I found master gardener Kathy McNulty and asked her to stop by. After walking around my yard, she told my neighbors (who were visiting on the porch) that she might be finished in 2012. Kathy is quite the comedienne. She showed up Tuesday at 10 a.m.--as promised--and set to work.

Kathy McNulty

She pruned the prickly hollies, shaped the camellia without disturbing the mockingbird's nest, unearthed the roses (which I replanted), shaped the unidentified huge shrub outside the kitchen window and left some shoots for the birds--they like to bounce after their baths and I enjoy watching. We transplanted irises; she trimmed along the driveway and pointed out which trees and shrubs are beyond help and need to be removed. She pulled everything to the curb--the town picks up. While Kathy was doing the heavy work, I pulled up gobs of ivy that I had planted--underneath, I found two antique Bayonne NJ fire buckets, my practice golf balls, two croquet balls, and a bird bath.

The Garden Ho

I moved my Bob Currier sculpture to the front yard. Why was I working six straight hours a day alongside Kathy? I'm uncomfortable letting someone else do my work.

November on Commerce Street

I don't rake, though. After all the leaves fall, we'll have them picked up. I'm off to the workshop and back to painting as soon as I can move without pain. Kathy will be back in the Spring!

My small southern town--Clarksville VA--did a great job of picking up the debris.

"Quick Draw" in Halifax VA

2010-10-22T22:45:00.007-04:00

Untitled, acrylic on panel, 14x11

I know--my paintings always have titles (this looks a bit like Boy George or the redhead from Mad Men). Those curlicues are part of the easel.

I'm a member of the Convergence Art Guild in Halifax VA. On Thursday evening, the Halifax Chamber of Commerce and guests converged on the Guild and I was one of, I believe, ten artists who agreed to paint or draw something in just one hour; followed by a silent auction with proceeds going to the Guild. During my 25-mile drive to the Guild I made the decision of what to paint--on Sunday I had seen a large floor model bullet-shaped chrome hair dryer at an estate sale; probably a 1950's model. I didn't buy it ($50), I didn't photograph it, and I couldn't find it on Google--I remembered the shape and "Hoover." Members and guests of the Chamber thought I might be painting the Pope (I thought of Sir Frances Bacon; others thought it might be a Bishop). At 7 p.m. I signed the painting--larger than normal--and thought I'd be bringing it home where I'd follow Celeste Bergin's example--I'd sand it off and repaint.

Wrong! All the paintings sold. The owner of this one is the Town Manager of Halifax, Carl Espy--young and handsome. I was okay with the sale during most of my drive home. Then it hit me--do I really want people to see this? Can I ask Mr. Espy to attach a note to the painting explaining that it was done in one hour? I think I have a plan. There is a group show coming up next month. I like the concept of this painting; with no audience and a bit more time I can paint a better version. And, with a bit more money, Mr. Espy can trade in this version for a new improved model!

It was an enjoyable evening. The other artists produced good work; they were: Don Bagwell, Peggy Blount, Maxine Dunninger, Dianne Hills, Nelly Z. Jones, Ron Miller, Rebecca Rodgers, Steve Schopen (who finished two), and I'm missing a name. Had I been smart I would have gotten a bidder's number and brought some of those pieces home to Clarksville; I'm not sure that was allowed. (I have photos of the other works but failed to get permission to include them on my blog.)

Oct 23. I just received a compliment on my "Vacuum Pope." (Maybe a title?)

Drawing What I See

2010-10-15T21:02:00.005-04:00

The Only Way Out is Down

acrylic ink, mixed media on Carte d'Art, 9x12

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I see a painting......an image......a tv screen......a slide show. I can recall the image(s) by closing my eyes again (I've done this my whole life). These images appear with no accompanying thoughts. I do think about them afterwards. This one appeared several days ago and I decided to copy it onto paper (an aerial view). I don't feel stuck; I'm not depressed; I don't think I'm seeing the future, or the past, or the now.

Does anyone else get this channel?

Meet-the-artists Reception October 9, 2010

2010-10-11T16:38:00.002-04:00

6:55--We're ready. Me, my brother Bob, my sister-in-law Mary

Margie and Terry McHose (sculptor)

Food and Wine

Carolyn and one of her arrangements

People showed up.

Some of us played.

My across-the-street neighbor, Larry, thinks his house should have been included in this painting. Is it under the mat?


The bouncer kept everything in check. (Watcher Woman is standing in the front yard of his childhood home.)

Thanks to everyone who came out and made this a great evening--even the weather was perfect. My brother Bob and my sister-in-law Mary (former owners of a gallery in Pasadena) brought a bit of California to SOVA--a great combination. Yall should have been here.

Showtime at MacCallum More Museum & Gardens

2010-10-02T22:09:00.009-04:00

These photos were taken Wednesday when hanging was almost, but not quite, finished. My sister-in-law helped me hang the show--she has a great eye and we work well together. The exhibit opened yesterday--I didn't need a straight shot of Jack Daniels. I celebrated with an old people's happy hour--a nap. When I looked at my fifteen paintings hanging on the walls, I thought, "It looks like a group show!" The wonderful wood pieces are by sculptor Terry McHose.

I sold several paintings before the show opened and the meet-the-artists reception is next Saturday, the 9th.

The guest books from the last two shows were used as a mailing list (along with the museum's list). Unfortunately, lots of guests didn't leave their addresses--just their names--and many people have P.O. boxes, so I'm taking a cue from the book, Freakonomics, and its discussion of incentives. I framed the small watercolor "What Chicken?," and it will be a giveaway--place name & address in a vase; I will mail the work to the winner of the drawing. I'll let you know how that works.

I included the painting below, "1963," in the exhibit only after she had a purpose. She was propped against the wall for several months while I wondered why I had spent time on it. I added a plastic cape--she's being groomed for all the careers open to women in the early 60s. It will give viewers something to discuss (after they've discussed "He Beat His Mules" which was retitled "The Spell").

Peopling Catalogs

2010-09-24T00:04:00.005-04:00

I have been working hard getting ready for the exhibit but I get distracted--and tiredness begets silliness (which I love). Along with frames, I ordered some acrylic inks. I really wanted to play with the ink in those cute bottles--there was a Pottery Barn catalog nearby, and an ashtray with butts. These are pages from the catalog, the blue ink, used cigarette filters, and an ink pen. Recycling? Yes. And no clean-up!

These are some of the pages--I omitted the pole-dancing (actually, beam-dancing) woman. I'm not sure using a catalog in this way is okay but it has my name on it (and I like their products). I'll call this "The Blue Women of (my town)" or "While You were Away." DWR, Frontgate--I get all the catalogs.

Hmmm...........homemade recycled Holiday gifts for friends; everyone gets a catalog with surprise pages.

I don't know which I like best; I feel like the woman at the top. Now it's back to work, playtime is over.

If I Disappear for a While.........

2010-09-11T16:46:00.011-04:00

Workshop/Studio--September 2010

If I disappear for a while, I can probably be found in the chaos of my workshop. I'm doing that last ten percent of work on several paintings because I will be exhibiting new works at MacCallum More Museum & Gardens beginning October 1. The exhibit will include works by sculptor Terry O'Hose; meet-the-artists reception will be Saturday October 9, 7 to 9 p.m.

Some pieces are out being matted and framed; some pieces need varnish (that's done on the back porch of the workshop); some pieces will be framed by me when the frames arrive on Tuesday (that's done on the guest house floor).

Also, workers will arrive Monday to paint our tin roof and power wash our house, guest house, and workshop. I'll need to be careful walking in and out of doors.

I was invited to exhibit paintings at the Arnold Library in South Hill VA; older works have hung there since September 1.

On October 2--after the Library exhibit is dismantled and the MacCallum More exhibit is hung--I might have a straight shot of Jack Daniels or Maker's Mark.

I no longer dream of being organized; the last-minute method somehow works for me.

Watch

2010-08-24T17:12:00.013-04:00

Watcher Woman 1, acrylic, 24x18

In early July I was re-reading The Celestine Prophecy, a book that pretty much says there's no such thing as a coincidence and that memories pop into your head for a reason.

A memory had popped into my head--I recalled a woman in a park in D.C. My children and I had visited Whistler's Butterfly Room exhibit and were taking a people-watch break, sitting on a bench in a small park. An older woman, using her hands as binoculars, constantly turned in a circle. Each time the "binoculars" landed on me I was very uncomfortable; we left the park.

I thought of painting the woman and drew a sketch.

Then I read Harry Kent's blog from July 25. He said "I believe the elderly, because they've seen so much, have a particularly important social role to play as reviewers and commentators."

I agree--I think we should be training our eyes on what's happening in our small towns; what's happening off our shores or on Wall Street, what's happening to our old forests.

Then I read Donna Iona Drozda's blog from July 26 that said look back to July 12; what were you thinking of during the solar eclipse? (I was thinking of watcher woman and taking photos of my local landmarks.)

And then I later followed Donna's Luna See newsletter to her "What's up?" article and it showed a triangle--the shape of the arms and head of the watching woman.

I couldn't decide whether I should jump with joy or hide under the covers--I felt I had tapped into something beyond coincidence.

With the exception of the "Celluloid Man"detour, due to wrong-sized canvas, this painting has been in the works since early July. This is the first Watcher Woman and she's looking East towards my home town. When I was six and needed a vaccination before entering first grade I screamed from this overpass to Dr. Winston's office in town (maybe two miles) and I was riding in the back of a neighbor's truck!

Watcher Woman is a tough-looking broad and I think she looks like the woman from the park 35 years ago (maybe a bit like my friends and me) and the painting is 95 percent complete. The binocular stance is fun--try it.

* * * * * *
There is sadness on my street. My next-door Summertime/weekend neighbor passed away unexpectedly last week. She sat on my porch earlier this summer and read my blog on her laptop. Bess would have enjoyed this entry and would have said "That's Jack's yard!" I see her front porch from my kitchen sink; she'd be surprised at how much she's missed.

.

Seasoned by Age or Art?

2010-08-09T21:16:00.012-04:00

Uncle Red, H 14", terra cotta & copper wire, sold

This was actually a self-portrait. In 1985 I noticed that my face was falling--I was 43. The sculpting was completed in one day. I scooped dirt and bits of dried clay off the floor and embedded them in the wet clay. (I think of those bits now when the dermatologist burns off growths and reminds me that redheads--even old ones--should stay out of the sun).

I pierced holes in the scalp for the hair. Epoxying the copper wires after firing was a bloody and time-consuming job (probably a bit like a hair transplant).

Life Artist left a comment on my July 16th blog entry: ".....age seasons us for art." Yes. I wonder, though, if the opposite can also work--that art seasons us for age.

This a 2010 photo; 25 years have passed since Uncle Red bore the brunt of my rage against age. Now I just walk quickly by mirrors. (When I walk by my eye-level clothes dryer, though, I cringe--my face reflection in the dryer door is 3X life-size!)

Celluloid Man

2010-07-24T17:09:00.008-04:00

Celluloid Man, acrylic, 30x24
(aka Celluloid Man Meets his Match)

I had primed this canvas but needed a different size for a planned painting. Rather than put the canvas away, I set up a palette with ultramarine, cadmium red, cadmium yellow, and white and began painting without a single thought--started with an oval.

I took a photo of the first day's work, printed it out and toyed with ideas--Self-anointed One and Candle Man. I needed a reason for the melting (other than the heat here in southern Virginia). After a couple of days, a memory surfaced. Aha!

When I was very young (4 or 5) I loved a small celluloid doll that my father bought for me during our trip into town. As I sat with my mother in the front yard under the shade of the trees, she said, "If you strike a match to the doll's feet, she will smile." I did--and was horrified as I watched her melt. I cried for days. My mother had a great sense of humor but it was missing on that particular day--this is one of the few bad memories from my childhood.

Mothers, don't let your babies grow up to be artists.

It's a Wonderful Blog

2010-07-16T21:49:00.010-04:00

Thinking Cap, photo from Taj Mahal in Atlantic City
(It took six attempts to get my head aligned with the faucet.)

I began following Harry Kent's blog Tachisme because I loved his self-portraits. His post from today--collaborative abstract painting and the accompanying comments--made me don my "thinking cap." Great reading.

Updated Sat., July 17. Wrap-around mirrors always fascinate and confuse me.

Third Thursday in South Boston

2010-07-15T23:45:00.009-04:00

Six painted chairs were on display; there was great music; stores were open late, and lots of people showed up--despite the hot weather.

I almost bought my own painted chair. At $60, my left brain kicked in (I use it infrequently) and said "Buy it, take a deduction, and resell it for at least double at the October art show--a better return than the stock market." Bidding picked up and it sold to the lady on the stage. (Now I can legally deduct only the cost of materials--or was that law changed?)

Before the auction I took a walk looking for a breeze and, instead, found a beautiful side street. Celeste was right when she said backs and sides of buildings can be more interesting than fronts.

There was an underlying sadness at the event. The friend who talked me into painting the chair lost her daughter today--there was a car accident last weekend--and her grandson remains in the hospital. There was a silent prayer.

Watermelons and Flies

2010-06-28T15:25:00.021-04:00

Saturday Night Watermelons, acrylic

(Seat and back were sanded; gesso was applied to area to be painted; at least two coats of acrylic paint were used; then an isolation coat; finally, three coats of archival satin varnish. All products were manufactured by Golden Acrylics.)

The owner of Sacs So Bo Eclectique asked if I would paint a chair for Third Thursdays. Third Thursdays are held in South Boston VA to raise money for arts. First I said "No;" then I said "Okay." How hard could it be? Answer: Very hard for someone like me, who usually paints without a plan.

A child's golden oak chair was delivered; I waited for it to tell me what it wanted to be. It said "I'm already beautiful and would like to be a footstool."

All my paintings have been on canvas or panels--a chair seat calls for a different perspective. I considered a painting of a robin's nest, or birds looking down at a parking lot (deciding which car to bomb), or a cup of spilled coffee. I wanted the beauty of the wood to show so I chose a napkin with cut-work; I don't have one so I made it up. What to put on the napkin--fruit, but fruit is boring. I saw a watermelon at the produce stand--not a seedless one but one with black seeds--like the ones from childhood.

I remembered summer Saturday nights as a child. Friends gathered at our country store--ten to twelve children. We played hide-and-seek, red rover, and jumped rope. A parent would bring out a home-grown watermelon and a large butcher knife. One well-placed whack of the knife cut three-quarters through the watermelon; then it was broken in half. The same method was used for each slice. We stood and ate our slices, bent over to keep drips off our clothes. I'd look up and see an older boy holding his dripping rind. "I'm gonna wash your face!" I'd run screaming and laughing through the yard; he'd catch me and rub the rind all over my face and hair. To bugs, I was the most attractive being in the Universe.

I don't think the bugs looked like these--I spent a lot of time researching flies. I know that they have large eyes and six legs. I could not determine whether their wings go up and down or back and forth. I guess these are Farber flies.

Working conditions were not ideal; I improvised. The chair fit perfectly over my trash can--just the right height.

Fathers

2010-06-19T16:45:00.006-04:00

The Wilkersons in 1942
(I'm the one with the bald head and bare feet)

Some fathers are strong--they lift.

When Dad was 12, his father was killed in an accident. Dad quit school and worked so his siblings could stay in school. I was born in the back of his country store; then Dad (with Mom's help) built our house--obtaining plumber's and electrician's licenses as needed. He dealt in antiques and owned several farms.

At 40, he went to college. At 46, he graduated from Southeastern Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, NC and became a full-time Baptist minister--his dream. I think he was a minister long before he earned his degree.

When he was dying, he said "Tell Estelle (my mother) that it's beautiful." I think he might have been in heaven before his last breath.

He taught us that learning never ends; to stand for what we believe; to carry turtles to the other side of the road; and to act silly at least once a day.

Rev. Robert J. Wilkerson, 1914-1996

Celeste Inspires

2010-06-12T15:31:00.019-04:00

1963, Seen but Not Heard

I visit Celeste Bergin's blog often. She paints every day--landscapes, animals, cowboys, people, flowers--all beautiful. Several weeks ago, she posted a self-portrait that she'd covered with pthalo blue. I spent at least 30 minutes moving the cursor hand around her face. What fun. When the hand covered the mouth, I thought "Seen but Not Heard." I found a photo from 1963 and whipped out a portrait (in only eight days--fast for me). 1963 was a time of black eyeliner, high heels, and high hair. For some women, finding one's voice took a while (I would not go back). I always feel old photos are of some acquaintance--not of me. The blue tint and cursor drawing were added in Corel.

This is the painting, which was troublesome--I originally gave myself a longer neck, large pupils (like after a visit to the ophthalmologist), a too-long chin and a too-short upper lip. I judge this as okay and I might just cover it with pthalo blue--acrylic, 14x11. It has no title yet--maybe "Only my Hair was High."

The photo was taken when I was not quite 21 and living in D.C. The photographer had been trained by the Navy in aerial photography, then assigned to submarine duty. We were co-workers; I married him. He was an offset photographer at the Commerce Department, and retired in 1992 as a Deputy Assistant Secretary of Commerce. (Where is my left shoulder?)

I am surprised by the resemblance in this photo to earlier blogs: "Woman in a Rain Bonnet" (April 26) and "A Leftover Chicken" (Feb. 24).

An update on the local ospreys. They are alive and well, and keeping an eye on the ball.

Folk Stories

2010-05-28T19:48:00.007-04:00

He Beat his Mules, acrylic on panel, 20x16

He beat his mules. Lena Lion (who could cast spells) said, "You will know what it's like to have hooves." He dreamed of running on all-fours. When he awoke, his feet and hands were bloody.

Fairy tales were okay; whispered stories about actual neighbors were more interesting. I always looked at his hands. When Lena Lion--a tiny woman--visited, I stayed quiet.

This setting is from imagination--dark quilts, rag rugs, heavy doors, old farm houses. The painting is almost finished--I will probably put these words on the upper portion of the door:

HE
BEAT
HIS
MULES

In the rural area of my childhood, several women had "powers" and creeks had suck-holes. These stories kept us from venturing onto others' property and kept us out of the lithia water of local creeks. The suck-holes were always close to the beautiful large, smooth, round rocks that beckoned. I was 28 when I took swimming lessons--in a pool!

Birds on a Pole

2010-05-20T20:54:00.015-04:00

The Nest

Former Home

When I read Merci33's blog about the wildlife in her yard, I thought of our local ospreys and their housing situation.

Here is what I had learned at Tuesday's Council meeting--this year the ospreys chose the local ball field over their normal spot in the lake by the railroad trestle. It's a problem because: The pole is too old to be climbed (how do they change bulbs?); the light pole they chose cannot be turned off individually; having the nest relocated by the appropriate movers is too expensive (the town, like the country, is in debt); and there is concern that the osprey will drop sticks on people below. Do they really drop sticks on passersby? Will the eggs bake? If the chicks hatch, how long till they fly? Should ballgames be moved to a different field? Why did they bypass their usual nesting spot? Lots of questions.

I know some of you are bird watchers and may have suggestions. They probably should be left alone as we hope for the best. What happens next year?

I did get back to painting today but I took the camera with me when I dropped off my aluminum cans--recycling center is at the ball park. Two birds in one short15-minute trip; my timing was perfect.

Away from Art (Almost)

2010-05-17T22:35:00.014-04:00

Refrigerator Arrangement, found heads, copper & vases

I've been away from my studio/workshop for a couple of weeks. A new refrigerator meant cleaning out the old one--a dirty job. I found pre-cooked bacon with a use before date of 2005. These three cool guys have always had the spot on top of the refrigerator--from the utility room, they peer around the kitchen doorway and keep an eye on the front door. Their heads bob in rhythm to a heavy wash load or the stereo. They got baths and, while trying to get them in the perfect spot and position, I accidentally leaned against my new water dispenser--I got bathed from the waist down with cold water.

My Town (pop. 1,400)

Guests (relatives) from NJ and MD arrived last week so a boat ride was in order--I had not been on the boat in three years. It's a long walk down the hill to the dock (I had to make a second trip up and down for the key) and an even longer walk up the hill when we return. I sometimes forget just how beautiful it is on Buggs Island Lake and how fortunate we are to live in this beautiful small town.

We did not fish for the 65-pounders but I spotted goldfish clouds.

http://lakecountry-live.com

Mother's Day

2010-05-08T22:12:00.010-04:00

Where Should I Put My Head?, oil pastel, 16x12

My mother suffered from Alzheimer's, which began in her late seventies. I brought her to live with us in our small, then vacation, house. (Since remodeling it's now our permanent home.) After Dad's death, Mom never slept in a bed but was comfortable on a sofa. Each night I'd set up the sofa with sheets and pillows; she'd ask, "Where should I put my head?" I'd pat the pillow; she'd lie down the opposite way and complain about the light in her eyes. Then she'd switch ends. She tried so hard to do things the right way--even laid sheets of typing paper down to mark a path to the bathroom; yet she couldn't find it without help. There were times, though, when her humor returned and there was laughter in the house. Restaurants were fun, too, but she insisted that we be in the house when darkness arrived--nighttime porch-sitting was not allowed. No one in the house got much sleep.

This was my first oil pastel (drugstore variety) on drawing paper; done after Mom moved to an assisted living facility--it was completed in one all-night session; it still makes me cry. I tried to make a large painting of this--it was a failure; all the feeling went into this one.

My mother died in a nursing home seven years ago at age 82. I think of her almost every day, not just on Mother's Day.

Estelle Satterfield Wilkerson 1920-2003

Woman in a Rain Bonnet

2010-04-26T16:53:00.002-04:00

Woman in a Rain Bonnet, acrylic, 14x11

I found a rain bonnet, wore it, and looked in the mirror while completing this painting. My hair now seems to be permanently pleated.

See previous blog entry for background on this painting.

To Bonnet or Not to Bonnet

2010-04-19T22:19:00.005-04:00

Woman in a Rain Bonnet?, acrylic, 14x11

At Easter time I thought not of Easter bonnets, but of the rain bonnets my mother wore to preserve her hairstyle. There are few photographs of my parents from the 50's and 60's so I just began with a face. My mother always held her chin high, I added her (& my) nose with a bump and our thin lips. I chose reddish brown hair instead of Mom's light brown (more contrast with the background) and no real style because it would be covered, and eliminated her glasses. I thought she should be standing on my porch-- not in the rain--but I didn't like the jigsaw cornice of my porch. I rode around town; each Queen Anne has its own hand-jigsaw work. I found the right shape, asked for permission to photograph it--then decided the cornice should match the scarf and not be so intricate. Thank you, nice family on 8th Street.

Now the rain bonnet is a problem--I haven't been successful at finding the cheap plastic folded type. I did find an image on Google--Queen Elizabeth wearing one. I like the painting as is but without the rain bonnet my concept disappears. Who would have thought that Dollar General would have $1-rain ponchos but no rain bonnets.

I felt the suit should be a primary color and Mom didn't wear yellow, and little red. I realized today that this blue suit is actually what I wore to court in D.C. 47 years ago when my husband and I were married at 9 a.m. on a payday. If I give this woman bright red hair teased into a French twist and freckles, this could pass for my wedding portrait.

With a rain bonnet it will be my mother saying, "Robert, I am not going out in this rain." Maybe I should add that five-dead-mink scarf (we lifted the tails and made rude noises in church).

Brain Birds

2010-04-01T16:47:00.011-04:00

Brain Birds, walnut ink on w/c paper, 24x18

I arted around at the YMCA with my group today (one other person) using my new walnut ink and walnut stick--no reference photos or planning. After finishing the large bird I walked outside and looked for a bird in flight; instead, I saw wires and utility poles. Making things up and drawing like a first-grader are spirit-lifting--I do it often but don't always share.

Ruffle Crow and I wish you a Happy Easter or Happy Passover.

A Quiet Street

2010-03-23T16:53:00.014-04:00

Home, w/c on hot press paper, 24x18

Looks like a Normal Rockwell setting, right? This quiet street in a small town labeled Paradise by realtors will be active for the next six weeks. Town Council elections are coming up--four candidates for three seats. Local elections can be exciting--letters to the editor will fill the two newspapers and porch conversations will be lively.

Home is where the art is, too. I won a contest by coming up with a title for a signed serigraphy monoprint by Don Michael, Jr. My title? Sylvester got Tweety--I saw yellow feathers and blood. Don't worry, Don--the art will look great inside this 1890's house. The interior was gutted and rebuilt in 2004--totally modern inside. Yin & Yang--outside, a cottage; inside, a loft.

About the painting--the Dali-esque tree (this is about half the trunk) is at the top of my street. I have always loved it but it's dying; tree men have pruned, and huge branches have fallen. I will miss seeing it from my kitchen window; I watch crows sitting on it and, sometimes, vultures check out the neighborhood. I had taken this early Spring photo about five years ago--I set up the shot to block all my neighbors' houses. In the painting I eliminated mail boxes, utility poles, and some driveways. I'm still playing with the watercolor sticks. I had bought hot press paper for drawing and thought "Why not just do a large painting?" Here's why. I'm not a neat painter--I spatter, don't follow any of the lines I sketch, and I need more practice at "lifting."
I say "Whoops" often.

(I actually like this painting better cropped and upside-down.)

Cold Winter

2010-03-11T16:58:00.004-05:00

Cold Winter 2009-10, w/c on arches, 9x8

It was a long cold winter made worse with sinus infections and swine flu. His grandmother sent him a hand-knit hat.

Playing with water color sticks again, every which way--wet, dry, mixed, straight. This is from imagination--no one I know. I wish I had a hat like this but I can only knit squares & rectangles.

Playing with Watercolor Sticks

2010-02-28T14:44:00.010-05:00

Five-petaled Flower, w/c on arches, 9x12

More painting without drawing first. This is from a photo taken by my son Steven; any credit for design belongs to him. I don't know the size of the flower or its name. My thinking: What could be easier than painting a single flower? Ha! When I decided the background should be pale blue, I stupidly thought if I did it quickly my petals would be okay--it almost worked. I learned about color slowly spreading and used that lesson for the lower left. I will now look for my book, The Joy of Painting--I believe it has instructions for every medium. Ignorance, though, is sometimes an excellent first teacher.

Mr. Muffet, w/c on arches, 12x9

Playing at my get-together with other artists on Thursday, I learned the colors of my sticks. First question: What the heck is "New Gamboge?" It's someplace between yellow and burnt sienna--I'll call it dark yellow. Mr. Muffet (who is not suffering from jaundice--just yellow-play) began with two circles which became eyes; he grew a nose; then ears and a mustache; his hair was influenced by the wind outside; then his glasses were added. He had to be looking at something--the spider dropped in.

My art group and I think we know him. Perhaps he walks around town with the sleep-walking nude dictionary lady, A, from my blog entry of February 6.

A Leftover Chicken

2010-02-24T16:42:00.007-05:00

What Chicken? w/c on arches paper, 6x6

It was raining today so I played with my new watercolor sticks--they came with brushes but no directions. I pulled out a faded b&w Goodwill photo, turned it upside down, and painted the face, leaving two blank spaces for the eyes. Then I worked right-side up.

Here's what I think I learned. 1. I should probably sketch first. 2. With acrylics, I begin with the background--watercolors might require planning and I should probably begin with the nose or foreground (a bit like sculpting). 3. Dipping the brush in water and swiping it across the end of the stick is no way to control color.

I can't decide whether she resembles me when I was younger or Prince Charles.

This was fun but the beribboned hat was boring. I had leftover chickens from my 2009 painting of Miss Lulu. Why paint feathers when you can paint the whole chicken?

Mockingbird

2010-02-16T16:56:00.011-05:00

Talking to the Mockingbird, acrylic on linen, 24x18

"Listen to the Mockingbird" is a folk song from 1855 and probably the origin of my grandmother's name; then mine, and now my granddaughter's middle name. My mother sang the song often when she worked in the kitchen but she never sang the part about the mockingbird singing over Hallie's grave (she may not have known the actual lyrics). Wherever I've lived, there's been a mockingbird who shows up and waits for raisins--he/she sits on the fence and waits if there's snow--two weeks ago I stood on our walkway and showed the mockingbird that the raisins would be on the porch railing. (I wasn't walking in deep snow.)

The fence shadow has always caught my attention so a painting was in order. I thought I'd keep it simple--from the background I eliminated three houses, a 500-year old tree, a dogwood, a crepe myrtle, the street, several cars; I moved the horizontal fence boards to the back side of the fence, and brought a huge bush from the backyard to the front. (I don't know what the bush is; I took a sprig to a nursery once and was told that it's banned or illegal in VA. Luckily, the police have not noticed it, although it's at least 15' wide and 15' tall and constantly sends out shoots. It's the home to brown thrashers and cardinals, and all the birds sit on it after their baths--they bounce up and down and swing side to side.) Below is a photo of the actual scene; the sun is behind the huge tree, and my dog Willie is having a great time.

Talking to the Mockingbird is not quite finished--simple is not necessarily easy. I was really tempted to paint a first-grade round yellow sun with rays, and I'm considering mitten instead of glove!

Not Quite a Series

2010-02-06T13:45:00.010-05:00

A, conte on dictionary page, 9x14

Many artists work in series--a good thing. I attempted it once in 2006. I bought an old dictionary from the thrift shop. With conte pencils, I drew a woman on one of the pages--then I noticed the stitches and painstakingly dissembled the book. That's when the arm was added, then the crow. The hand is small (in palm reading, small hands mean big ideas). I sprayed the drawing with fixative; then attached it to a backing, had it matted and framed--and I bought additional mats for future drawings in the series.

In a box, there are ironed dictionary pages, waiting for four years now, to become "B."

I like the randomness of the illustrations on the page, and it's fun to read the meanings of the words and try to match them to my drawing. My neighbors and I actually noticed a resemblance to someone we know--scary.

No Time in the Workshop

2010-01-30T20:24:00.010-05:00

SOVA Scream, digital photo

While photographing the snow earlier today, I noticed this ready-made--my hat atop a folding clothes rack. Photo OP! I removed the background and cloned the light bulb.

Looking at seven inches of snow from the upstairs' bathroom window, I realized the short walk to the workshop would require boots! (It's the second building on the left; the first is a small guest house.) Everything is white, including our red tin roof. The lake, though, is mud-colored.

Not a great week; my husband had back surgery on Monday--we left the house at 5:45 AM-- and he came home on Tuesday. I have not turned into Nurse Ratched yet; I prepared for this by ordering watercolor sticks and I've been playing in the house. I also experimented with walnut ink (matches my floor) and a walnut stick. What's the advantage of a walnut stick over a pick-up stick and a q tip?

Nice things happened, too. Our next-door neighbor brought chili, cornbread and cookies this morning and there was a sweet potato pie tied to my front door knob yesterday. Does Botero need an older zaftig model?

Disaster Coverage

2010-01-23T13:13:00.007-05:00

Coverage, acrylic on linen, 24x18

The vast darkness in Haiti
and brightly-lit reporters
drawing pictures with their hands

The black tee-shirted reporter blended into the background of tall dark trees and sky; only his head, neck, and hands were visible. The movements were jerky--like an old-time movie. I couldn't stop watching.

This is not a portrait; it is, however, the image that stayed with me. The hands are mine--the crooked little finger was broken and pinned in 1964. Building art from parts.

This is hard to photograph; the only black in the actual painting is the tee shirt. The sky is dark blue; the trees raw umber with sap green. I should probably read the book that came with the camera.

This is Not Art

2010-01-11T19:11:00.007-05:00

The Squirrel Jumped over the Moon

My dog Willie, a bichon, spent time alone in our fenced-in front yard yesterday. I was pleased because he won't stay out for long unless we accompany him--not fun in this unusually cold weather.

When I opened the door he came running in with what I thought was one of his toys--it wasn't. I told him to drop it--he did--on my living room floor--with a clumping sound. It was a frozen dead squirrel.

After locking Willie in the computer room, I jumped around (not high) saying "ew--ew--ew" and looked at the eyes--no blinking. The camera came out because my husband probably would not have believed it; after the photo shoot I picked the squirrel up by the tail and disposed of him.

His relatives have benefited from his demise; all my Christmas nuts have been thrown into the yard along with sunflower seeds, raisins, and pieces of apple. For a while I considered putting some old towels and socks outside to provide animal shelter--what would the neighbors think?

I had a pet squirrel named Whisko when I was young (and a pet calf named Pansy, and a bird, and a rabbit, and lots of cats & dogs). I believe all the animals (including snakes) are here for a purpose; they do much less harm than humans. Thankfully, the weather has warmed a bit.

After reading Kathy's blog "Is It Art?," this, I thought, was appropriate followup . (I suspect that inkblot is a drawing by Klimt--not a Rorschach test.)

The Poem, the Potato, Bronze Shoes, and Crocs

2010-01-06T21:14:00.015-05:00

First, the poem--read in the eighties--it was on the upper right-hand page of a book or read in a dream (that happens). Googling the lines has not helped; hopefully someone else saw it:

Because my eyes were smiling, you didn't know I cried.
Because my feet were dancing, you didn't know I died.

So far there are two sketches; the first using a very loose armature of the rectangle; for the second I used Corel to draw the rectangle and printed it on regular copy paper (added a bit of water to the pencil--made it crinkly). I usually paint without a real plan so these may not resemble the finished painting-- if it becomes reality.

All the sweet potatoes at the grocery store have been studied, and the bronze shoes came from my plumber's yard sale seven years ago. I don't have a Saarinen side table, but I have one of his chairs.

It was almost part of a series--Me and My Chairs. Wearing just my uniform white socks and black Croc sandals, I'd hold my chairs upside-down--Saarinen, Eames, Wegner, the Siesta Chair and a Morris Chair (and borrow other moderns from my brother). Maybe one day.

Homage to Blog Friends

2010-01-03T21:46:00.011-05:00

Abstract ponies and Cats who talk-
Fractured eggs and Patterns to walk-
Serene oval trees invite sitting under-

Expressive masks make you wonder.

These internet friends work in series style--something I've not tried; I learn from them. Thanks for the lessons!

(I missed one artist when I was on a roll--
a metalworker whose series has Stones with soul.)

The New Year and Old Habits

2009-12-30T23:21:00.016-05:00

Which End Is Up? wood, 2005

For the past six months I have found and followed blogs of wonderful artists who are very organized--a real learning experience. During the past week most have posted their resolutions. After reading and thinking about so many great plans I have no idea which end is up.

As is my custom, I will prepare my Mark Bittman (the Minimalist) black-eyed pea and collard greens soup, eat it on New Year's Day, and hope for luck.

This torso was lying in the street five years ago. My friend Lamar helped me load it into my car; then we hid it behind my workshop. The fungi was beautiful; I made three trips up the ladder with the camera; then stitched the photos together. When she was wormy I walked her to the woods in back; she returned to the earth.

Christmas 2009

2009-12-26T17:56:00.007-05:00

Peace, alkyd, 12x12

Two friends passed away during this Season--one was buried on the 16th and the other on Christmas Eve; I had known them since childhood.

Parties, decorations. and gifts are nice but friends, families, and memories keep you warm. I made it though my annual chaotic breakfast (egg-making is now assigned to a friend) and am looking forward to the new year.

This painting from 2008 is a scene from nearby Cedar Grove Plantation. My art group was impressed with the beautiful house; I've always loved being alone in the woods. The sun touched the handmade cross while I was standing near the cemetery. A friend, who's from this area, bought the painting and told me she treasures it--I am honored.

Happy Holidays

2009-12-20T16:29:00.007-05:00

It's that time of year.

Here in SOVA, we were fortunate--only about 2 inches of snow. Today I hung my hubcap wreaths and found the extension cord for the bird bath heater. A sore throat and runny nose has put me further behind schedule than usual.

Being sick gave me an excuse to take it easy and read a book. I chose A FINE DISREGARD--WHAT MAKES MODERN ART MODERN by Kirk Varnedoe, who was at MOMA--it had been on the bookshelf for two years. I was surprised to learn that many of the artists I like are considered modern--I don't know movements and isms. There was mention of a small book entitled Flatland by A. Square, which intrigues me. I have no talent for teaching so the ideas just enter my head and rattle around. It is a great book and, like all books, leads to more questions.

I feel better; now I need to set up the guest house--my son will arrive Wednesday; clean and decorate the house (I am a minimalist); find and wrap the gifts I bought during the year; and prepare for the annual Christmas breakfast (my favorite was when I dropped the dozen uncooked scrambled eggs on the floor, the wall and on me).

January may be my favorite month.

Symbols

2009-12-11T17:07:00.008-05:00

Now Is the Time, 2004, mixed media, 24x30

Studying hieroglyphs from the back of the dictionary when I was young or looking at cave drawings--I've always loved symbols. Learning shorthand was no different; I was fascinated and sometimes created my own. And I was fast--my teacher even suggested I write a textbook. This is shorthand for Now Is the Time (at least, it's my way of writing it). I always thought it was beautiful.

This wonderful brown linen mat with a white rectangle holding a Degas print was found at an auction for $8; the frame had obviously been removed. My plan was to take it apart and use it as a template. Instead, it became part of the art--I covered the print with modeling paste and gesso; then used acrylics and copper shavings for the painting.

Some have seen a rabbit, some have seen a puppy, another saw a bong! I see a symbol--shorthand is probably a lost art.

Now is the time for me to get moving for the Holidays. So far, I've done only one thing--ordered my fruitcake from the Monastery Bakery. Yes, fruitcake with lime jello is my favorite Christmas dessert!

Arting with Gravity

2009-11-30T17:18:00.011-05:00

Just Hanging Around, digital photo

While others were shopping, diligently working on paintings, or decorating for the holidays, I was playing with a tangerine bag. It began several weeks ago when I didn't cut the bag into pieces (for animals' sake) and left it lying on the counter. At first, I thought it might make a nice hat--with that little tassel. It did; I looked a bit like an old elf and considered wearing it to holiday parties. I then noticed the similarity between frozen turkey breasts and heads. I thought it might be cool to take a photo of a head in the bag. The memory of a photo--Mussolini hanging upside down--brought gravity to mind.

After several days I had a plan. I would wait until my husband was out of the house (explaining my project would have been impossible and I didn't want an audience). I chose a small Danish leather-topped table; I moved the dining table to make sure I had enough space, set up a light, set up the camera--a cereal box stood in for my head--and I lay across the table. Anatomy (and a couple of fused disks in my neck) made it impossible to get all of my chin below the table top. With my left hand holding the bag tightly behind my head, I snapped the shutter with my right and waited in place for the timer. In some photos I forgot to remove my glasses (they were hanging on my forehead); in some I inadvertently used the flash (I wanted shadows); in some I am without the bag (I look like a gray-haired Dracula); and in others I am laughing too heartily.

I chose a photo and with Corel Photo/Paint was able to remove my arms and the table legs, clone my missing chin, enhance the turkey-look of the skin, and add the carrying strap. I think the contraption on the right represents a scale--$2 per lb. Lesson learned: If you're in your sixties and want to hang upside down, a net bag is handy for holding face parts in place. Gravity is awesome.

I am usually very serious when working on a painting. Playing with digital photos is just great fun; I don't think of it as art but as "arting around." I'm still looking for a model.

2009-11-28T17:32:00.011-05:00

Retrieving the Wild, acrylic, 24x18

Expression has been a recent topic in blogs that I follow: Kathy's and Margaret's --and I pay careful attention to Don's insightful comments on those sites; he has a great self-portrait on his blog and his Thanksgiving entry was powerful. Margaret's entry from yesterday asked if we could identify when we found our artistic voice. I found mine easily when I was in my twenties but it was with sculpture.

In 2001, after 35 years of sculpting, I switched to painting. For some reason I felt that I needed to paint because I could no longer express myself with sculpture, such a slow process--whether clay, wood, or stone. I've since learned that painting (my painting, anyway) is not necessarily faster. Getting the nod of approval was important when I began painting so I chose my subjects carefully and stayed close to realism.

In 2006, I awoke from a dream and made a sketch. In the dream I had unearthed and retrieved something important and a bit gross. I interpreted the dream as a message--don't shy away from the strange. (Yes, people--for many years I kept a dream diary--great fun-- & have actually tried programming my dreams. It sometimes works.) I also acknowledge the book "Women Who Run with the Wolves," which says we often leave our wild side behind in order to conform. (To Heck with that!) I felt this painting was my announcement that I would take more chances with my work.

I am fortunate--I have good friends and family who enjoy and buy art; they provide approval and support. They don't necessarily like everything I paint but they see it as progress. Close friends who are neighbors bought this painting at my summer show; I visit it often. Lots of my paintings have not made it off my street!

Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T18:39:00.004-05:00

I celebrated Thanksgiving on Scuppernong Hill with my brother, my sister-in-law, and with friends who have become family. A sunny November day, great food, good people--for this I am thankful.

Speed?

2009-11-22T16:41:00.007-05:00

Dying Lucky Bamboo, Inktense pencils on w/c paper, 12x9

This was my first attempt at Kathy's 20-minute challenge. My usual method of painting or drawing is to work for 10 minutes, then ponder for 30. Why I thought I could record this scene with speed (not in my DNA) is a mystery. My timer ticked annoyingly and I couldn't read the names of colors on the pencils--all the leads looked alike. When the buzzer sounded, not much was done so I continued--for at least another 60 minutes. (A friend gave me the vase with three bamboo stalks five years ago. In Feng Sui, 3 is for happiness--one died two years ago; 2 is for love & marriage--I'll wait and see; and 1 has no meaning listed.)

Pears on a copper plate, pastel pencils on w/c paper, 9x12

This was last night's attempt at the 20-minute challenge. Now experienced, I limited myself to five items--three pears, a copper plate, and a woven leather place mat; I set them under a single overhead light and chose conte pastel pencils because the colors are easy to identify. Using the microwave timer (no ticking) very little was recognizable at 20 minutes. I kept going--for a total of 45 minutes, even with the elimination of the place mat!

I will try the challenge again and I almost have a plan: I'll stick with the pastel pencils and tackle maybe one lemon on a white paper plate (no reflections). Speedy is not my nickname but this is fun.

A Sad Painting

2009-11-17T16:34:00.008-05:00

Entropy, acrylic, 24x18

In the early 80's, I read the book by Jeremy Rifkin--it stuck--and became the working title for this painting (partly inspired by a tank baffle I use to hold a bird bath). The painting was almost finished when ABC evening news reported on Kenya and its lack of rainfall--no rain for a year. The people, their livestock, and the elephants are dying. The report aired on the same day we discovered a major water leak under our house. Gallons of water had been wasted; the plumber said he worked in at least six inches of murky water. (We had heard what sounded like a motor running for several days and thought the problem was our new heat pump system--part of which is under the house. The noise was gushing water; our water pressure was a bit low but no other sign of a leak.)

I was upset not at paying a high water bill, but, at the unfairness of life. For a month I could not go into my workshop and face this painting without tears. I stayed in the house and worked with pastels or drew with pencils; I sent a small contribution to help Kenya. Yesterday I got back to the painting and finished today. Each night I ask that rain be sent to that area, and this painting will always remind me of thirsty people, livestock, and elephants.

I usually stick with humor--I couldn't find it this time.

Calla

2009-11-10T17:18:00.010-05:00

Unidentified Calla, pastel, 14 x 11

aka: Calla from my other Planet

It began as a calla from a photograph--I ditched the photo. After looking at hundreds of calla images of all colors on Google, I went with my imagination. Why not?

My book on using pastels is in hiding; reviewing might have helped--this is my second pastel work and it's on Ampersand pastel panel. I worry that if I sneeze this painting will disappear.

Do your eyes go directly to that red sphere? Thanks to today's entry "Balance: Weight and Direction" on Kathy's blog, I now know the reason--actually, several reasons. My thinking was much simpler: "Hmm......I think I'll use that red pastel and make Mars."

A Challenge

2009-11-09T16:20:00.012-05:00

Conched out on my pillow, graphite

A 200-minute sketch

I follow the exceptional blog of Katharine A. Cartwright, a wonderful artist who is unbelievably organized. A recent entry explained her "twenty minute challenge"--in twenty minutes, she paints her surroundings. Among other things, these small paintings have provided a record of her travels when she's teaching. Many of her readers found the concept interesting so she has set up a "Twenty Minute Challenge" blog. Since I've always drawn my environment (and there's no requirement to work daily, to travel, or to venture outside), I may join. Stopping after twenty minutes will be my challenge. Information on The Challenge is here.

The Drawing Room

2009-11-06T17:37:00.016-05:00

Drawing with a No. 2 pencil is one of my favorite things. Supplies are stashed everyplace--even in my tiny bathroom tucked under the eaves. A small desk was a perfect fit in the strange corner under the low ceiling (HGTV designers haven't thought of this yet). The post-its? Left: "bathroom art." Right: web addresses for Holbein, RI School of Design, a street address for Good Will in Danville, the name of a woman who makes good pies, and one written in invisible ink. I consider the upstairs loft truly "a room of my own."

I have been following Van Gogh's blog; a wonderful site that contains his letters and drawings. His Bedroom paintings, with the strange corners and slightly skewed furniture, have always made me smile. We should enjoy our surroundings and be grateful.

Found One of my Marbles

2009-11-04T12:54:00.015-05:00

One of my missing marbles--I found it on the counter near the kitchen sink. (This confirms my suspicion that housework causes brain damage.)

I'm learning to use my new camera--actually reading the manual!

From my sculpting days, Marbles Lost, Marshmallows Retained, ca. 1990, sold to a couple from Germany--they saw it in the D.C. gallery.

When a visitor at the Montpelier Cultural Arts Center in MD walked past my resident studio and saw the sliced head on my sculpture stand, he was not sure he wanted to meet the artist.

A Good Read

2009-10-28T22:04:00.008-04:00

My copy of this book by Alyson B. Stanfield arrived in March; I read it and ordered more copies for friends. This book is the reason I seemed almost organized at my art exhibits--invitations were mailed on time; my short artist's statement and business cards were on hand; there was even a guest book for visitors; I spoke to groups. Names and addresses are now close to being in a folder which will one day become data in my computer, and thank-you notes were sent. Until I read the book, blogging was just an often-heard word. Now I blog--I follow other blogs (and not just art blogs). Following blogs and the stock market is almost a full-time job.

Thanks to one of the suggestions in "I'd rather be in the studio," I actually left the comfort of home and looked at art last week. The Parsons-Bruce Art Association sets up an annual art exhibit at The Prizery, an historic tobacco warehouse, in South Boston VA--two floors of beautiful work by many talented artists.

I am grateful that I found this book. I considered mentioning it in an earlier blog but I only recently learned how to highlight words and add links. Hooray for old dogs learning new tricks!

End of Summer

2009-10-18T17:06:00.010-04:00

The blue-tailed lizards (skinks) are abundant in southern Virginia--they like living under my back deck. I miss them during the winter.

"All clear; I think I'll catch some rays."

"Mom?"

The saying is:
If you see lizards you don't have black snakes--and if you see black snakes you don't have moccasins.
I am happy when I see skinks!

Playing with Crayons (Oil Pastels)

2009-10-13T20:40:00.015-04:00

The Seer, oil pastel, 18x12, came from many parts of my brain, piles of magazines, and a big box of oil pastels.

For several weeks I have been looking through ten years of Art in America, cutting out photographs of paintings I admire--my choice was cut them up or be buried under them. I came across an intriguing 1970 painting by Picasso, Buste, from his Mosqueteros (Musketeers) and thought of the fun he must have had while painting--this might be my favorite Picasso work. It reminded me that art does not always have to be a serious undertaking; playing is a good way to learn.

The Seer began with a Time photograph of a soldier peering into a huge night vision machine. My work looks nothing like the photograph; I spent about 20 minutes looking at it, then closed the magazine--I remembered the green at the edge of the face. My Seer looks a bit like the X Files actor, and he has the bulging forehead vein I saw on a doctor's temple last month. When the Aztec appeared on his back, the Seer's hairstyle was changed to match. Is he looking into the future? I have no idea--the painting needed a vertical and something red.

The Seer looks nothing like the psychic my friend and I visited once a year--Mr. Whiz of G Street in Washington, D.C. He never peered into anything, sparks never came from his chest, and his predictions never made much sense. We visited other psychics, laughed, and swore we'd never spend another dime on something so stupid--but we did. My friend now thinks she's a psychic and was offended when her local police department declined her help in a murder case. I enjoy my off-plumb friends; they make me feel at home.

All these thoughts surfaced as I played with my beautiful wood box of 120 crayons (Sennelier oil pastels). Next week I hope to be using a new camera, a Canon G11, and I'll post a better photo--the G2 has served me well.

Some Paintings Surprise Even Me

2009-10-07T18:04:00.021-04:00

At shows, the most frequently asked question is "Where do you get these ideas?" For On Track, oil pastel, 18x24, there was no plan. When I was running late for my Art Group at the Y, I grabbed this rabbit from his perch--he'd been sitting on a backyard fence for nine years, watching the real bunnies who come out to play (usually on Friday evenings). I used a twig to remove the dirt dauber nest from his bottom, blew off the leaves, and put him in the car.

I set him up on my card table at the Y and liked the results. The tough part was deciding what to do with a rabbit on wheels. I considered a rabbit hole (see dark on right side). I propped the drawing against the bedroom wall for a week--looking at it at least ten times a day. (In my sculpting days pieces of stone or wood sometimes lay on the kitchen counter for weeks--waiting for the Aha! moment.)

The colors and lines came first; then the title; then the idea of racing or being pulled towards death--all those wheels at the bottom of the cliff. I don't think of the painting as dark, just a part of life. My mom (with that Southern humor) said, "People are dying today who've never died before." Who can argue with that?

I sometimes enjoy surprise endings.

Hobnobbing Off the Main Roads

2009-10-03T23:41:00.013-04:00

Tonight there was a celebration of regional artists--an annual Community Memorial Healthcenter Hospice Event. Six artists were featured: Shelly Hudson-Baker, Trey Eppes, Karolyn Hawthorne, Wayne Herrman, Debbie Vaughan, and Pam Wilkinson. The event was hosted by the 450-acre Rosemont Vineyard & Winery in LaCrosse VA.

I was invited by Friend A who said, "We will all need Hospice one day." She's right.

Since the vineyard is off the main roads, I printed a Google map and was confident until Friend B stopped by--she lives near the vineyard. She said, "That's the long way--take Route l, then Red Lawn, then 903, etc." I printed another map (which included a crooked Nellie Jones Road). These are narrow roads with beautiful scenes of pines, rolls of hay and tobacco fields--sometimes deer. After several U-turns and much laughter we arrived at Rosemont (36 miles = 65 minutes). I took the above photo from the parking lot--then posterized it.

For the return trip I selected "Take me home" on the GPS--it was the long way but required only one U-turn. I visited the website when I returned and looked at Rosemont's directions--the correct route is very simple. My route was memorable.

A Walk on the Arty Side of Town

2009-09-22T21:14:00.010-04:00

During walks on my side of town, Willie waters all the mailbox posts and I check out the neighborhood--there are space-ship shaped mushrooms, an occasional snake, and weird-looking bugs. I have watched a neighbor's weed grow all summer--it's off the front porch and has reached roof height. One tall, arty-looking weed in a beautiful yard--it must be a statement. Maybe it says "I almost conform." From the street, the weed is beautifully framed by a hanging pine bough--today I used my camera.

I don't know the name of the weed--the bottom leaves are at least 12 inches wide and they have great veins. Several years ago I used some leaves to print onto watercolor paper; then I painted with acrylics. I named it Turmoil, 28x20.

It's nice living on the arty side--neighbors liked my red-ribboned hubcaps posing as Christmas wreaths, and no one has mentioned our missing shutter (it's behind the holly bushes, and those things attack).

Fun with Self Portraits

2009-09-17T17:12:00.030-04:00

A very early sketch from my sculpting days--the 70's suburban mother-wife-Fed employee-sculptor with the station wagon.

Looking in the mirror, ca 2001.

Put your chin right there (after an ophthalmologist appointment) 2002.

Pineal Pansies, Bane of Astro-travel, (from a Polaroid shot up my nose) 2003.

Rage--I'm hanging myself but holding a barbed-wire whip, 2004.

Faux Orchid--I sat in front of a mirror for hours (living in an apartment while our house was being renovated--nine months with no digital camera available) 2005.

Eye on the table--a manipulated digital photo with my new toy (a magnifier used to enlarge early TV screens) 2007.

Ideating (a "yield" or "slow" sign appeared on my cheek; I left it) photo from 2007, painted in 2009.

In person I appear normal in my well-worn, paint-spattered denim shirts--boring! The next self portrait? I think I'll be looking at a map of heaven and hell--contemplating future travel. I hope to finish the painting before I make the trip (sometimes it's years between planning a painting and actuallly getting it done).

Drawing and Discovering

2009-09-03T17:08:00.011-04:00

The Holly Springs art exhibit was taken down on Monday and I returned my favorite drawing to its owner--a neighbor who has bought three of my works. Nose to the Lens, white conte on black paper, is sort of a self-portrait; I would not do this to anyone else. I set the camera on the kitchen windowsill, leaned on the counter (my favorite bird-watching stance) and put my nose to the lens--in the sunlight! Every wrinkle is high-lighted and I added some for good measure; the eyes are not quite aligned as they watch, the nose bulbous, the eyebrows extra-long, the hair fly-away. I took many liberties and totally enjoyed doing this.

I also made a discovery. As I looked over my glasses at one of the stray strands of my colorless hair (used to be a redhead) I realized that, in sunlight, each strand contains the whole spectrum. The colors run across the hair--not up and down the strand! Amazing! Why didn't I know that? What happens to all the things I've learned when I die? Is there a giant data base someplace? What other amazing things are right under our noses--if we just take the time to look?

(Why has no one commissioned me to do their portrait?)

Elvis P Hound

2009-08-19T17:23:00.020-04:00

Hunting is popular here in southern Virginia and many hunters take great care of their dogs. Some, however, leave their dogs behind when the season is over; some dogs who don't perform well or are injured are simply abandoned. That's how I found Elvis--or Elvis found me. In 1999 there was no local SPCA and no leash law when I saw Elvis limping down our main street. When he showed up on my side of town, I offered a piece of chicken and a front porch glider with a blanket--he shyly accepted. When my neighbor (who has since moved) said she was calling the dog catcher, I adopted him, sent out announcements, took him to the vet for shots (the limp was due to a broken leg that had not been set), bought a collar and tags, and had him neutered. Our bichon, Daisy, reluctantly accepted him.

Elvis provided us with great stories. During the following year or so, he sang at the back door for his food, learned to retrieve a ball (not run from it), unlearned some of his survival skills, slept next to the bed (he had a terrible gas problem), claimed the Morris chair, rolled in fish guts, enjoyed rides in my old Cherokee so much he wanted to ride in everyone's car or get aboard their boat. When the neighbor who threatened to call the dog catcher opened the door to her new Mercedes to show off the interior, Elvis checked it out. He had ear infections, came home with the skin scraped from the pads of his feet, stole Halloween decorations, de-tasseled my husband's loafers, jumped into open car windows to nap on back seats, and had a positive reading on his heartworm test. (A definitive test was negative.) The alpha dogs bullied him, the neighbor's cats made him scream with terror, and he needed space to run--when he ran, he was beautiful; when he walked, he was stiff-legged and very slow.

Kind-hearted neighbors who had recently moved to the country adopted him; Elvis rode in my '87 Cherokee to his new home in an adjoining county (a sad trip for me). For seven years he and his buddy, Corky (a beagle with a bad leg), enjoyed an idyllic life on about forty acres. I got reports on his well-being and visited several times. On Saturday Elvis did not come home. On Sunday his family found him under the back deck; they saw a wound on his right hind leg and thought it was a snake bite. The vet said it was a .22; someone shot Elvis and the bullet shattered the bone. He is on antibiotics. If he makes it, his running days are over--he is probably close to ten years old.

I don't believe we'll ever know why he was shot or by whom. I do believe that, if God does not forget one of his sparrows, He surely knows what happens to His hounds.

We now have an SPCA; Elvis was my model for the Christmas cards above (2002 & 2003). I drew them, printed them, and sold them--all money went to the SPCA; I put him on their first T shirt design and he's still on their letterhead. The Lake Country SPCA has dedicated volunteers and little money; many dogs (not all are hunting dogs) and cats are waiting for adoption.