Sailor Girl Evolution

"Sailor Girl" 16"x20" Acrylic and Collage

Sometimes one of my paintings goes through an evolution.  Actually, I'm the one who goes through the evolution until I am satisfied with the painting. It really is painful to me.  "Sailor Girl" is one such painting.

In this case, I started with doodle #1.  I liked the idea.  Yes, another girl in a boat but this time she has  striped leggins.  The inspiration for this were the leggins.  Then I did doodle #2, again the leggins, but striped arms.  I couldn't quite go with the arms.  Although maybe one day I'll do some carnival rides.  I did like that idea.  Doodle #3, girl in the boat, no leggins.  What?  But I liked the idea of this doodle.

So I began painting. I wanted a soft feel to it, a misty feeling.

I had achieved the misty feeling.  The painting was propped on the table for several days. The longer I looked at it, the less I liked it.  It felt "blah" to me, it lacked color. It didn't feel like my art.  (I did like the leggins though). 

I saved the painting to my computer, so that if I wanted to make a pastel print for any reason, I could.  Then I began painting over "Sailor Girl #1".  I added some origami paper that I had tucked in a drawer and voila, "Sailor Girl #2".  There was my color. 

Here is a close-up of the collage element which has an iridescent look, and cranes flying around.

Orange of Summer

     As a rule, orange is not my color.  My skin tone has too much yellow or green and the color orange clashes, except when I have a dark tan. In college I made a lined suit that was orange.  Mother chose the fabric for me and I didn't like the suit at all because of the color and maybe, just maybe I wore it one time.

     However, the orange of summer excites me.  In the following collage are three things I look forward to every year; the butterfly weed, the orange daylily and the bright orange fungus that grows in my yard every year.  This fungus grows at the base of an oak tree and is the size of three dinner plates side by side.  It is enormous and always brings that bright orange color into a "green" yard.  Since we live in the woods there are very few plants that provide such a striking color.

     Then I thought about the color orange some more and remembered two more things that are orange that are my favorites. One is O.J. our cat who has no modesty at all. Carrots is the second thing with a drizzle of a mixture of melted butter, brown sugar and a dash of nutmeg onto them.Yummy! 

     Orange, I think I love you.

Great Day for Fishing

   Yesteday was a great day for fishing, if you are a fisherman, which I am not. However, my daughter and granddaughter are fishermen (fisherwomen).  I had been warned early on by my daugthter that they intended to fish for a couple of hours, could I hold out that long or would I be wanting to leave.  "No, no, I'll stay." I told her.

   We hit the trail, the trunk loaded with a picnic lunch and fishing gear.  We passed a four corners intersection and we saw one  of our favorite buildings. I've always wanted to go through it, look for treasures. I love the writing on the wall, it tells the whole story of what was once sold from there.

   Along the drive to Rough River Dam the bright orange butterfly weed and trumpet vines caught my attention.  Fluffy fish shapes and manatee shapes dotted the clouds.  A good omen, lots of fish today.

   First we went to the picnic area and had  our picnic lunch, sandwiches and fruit; grapes, honeydew melon and mango.  Yum!  When a cookie was dropped on the ground, Tiffany threw it into the yard.  This was how it landed.  Another great omen.  The Universe was in our favor.

                 

   Soon we were at the dam where Tiffany and Elizabeth baited their hooks.  The sun was getting hot. I knew I wasn't going to last in the heat, however I was going to do my best, after all, I had promised.  I moved further away from the fisherwomen so they wouldn't snag my hair with their hooks when they cast their lines.  Little did I know that their lines had a magic button that dropped the line.

   I became mesmerized by the yellow bobber.  I would suggest that you not look at the bobber for more than a minute or you, too, will become mesmerized.  Then I had a profound thought.  That was exactly why people like to fish, it lulls them into a state of meditation. 

Further down the metal scaffolding that stretched across the water, I looked for fish that might be swimming before they went over the dam's edge. We were high above the rushing water.

Did I tell you that I get bored quickly.  Second revelation, I am not patient.  It takes patience to be a fisherman, so I watched the martins fly into the dam wall holes and studied the lichen growing from another hole.

   Enough!  I'd had enough of the heat and the waiting.  I asked Tiffany if she had seen any fish.  "How many people do you know that live on the expressay?"  It took me a minute to process that reply.  I asked if she had any nibbles and she pulled her line out of the water and her worm was still on the hook.  She said, "I'm surprised my worm hasn't drowned by now".

   I needed shade so I went to the pavilion wtih picnic tables and pulled out the big guns...my coffee.  Smart thinking on my part, by now it was way past my coffee time...and clearly approaching an hour of fishing, another hour to go.

I watched the women from the distance, sipped my coffee, took a photo of a rusty chain and waited for the next hour to pass...and it did soon enough.  I had my third revelation; that if times got really tough, I'd starve, but the patient fisherwomen would be eating fish, that is if they were biting. It was a great day for fishing, but not catching fish.   

Icarus

     I made the body of Icarus two years ago and for those two years he has been on my table and inside the half of the doll suitcase where I thought I would have him "fly".   I have to "see" the entire piece first and I just had not seen Icarus flying in the doll case for two years.  At Halloween a small black crow sat on top of him, grandchildren have picked him up, asked where his clothes were and did he have a face?   Icarus, without a face, I haven't felt  guilty.  I mean who really needs a face anyway?  Aren't we all a summation of acts and deeds.  How many times have you said, "oh, I can almost see his/her face", but he/she was the one who..."  Get my point.

    So I've been patient. Then one day last week everything fell into place  I had an extra 5"7" block of wood (painted black) on the table and I was flying Icarus around the top of the table and slid him onto the block of wood, and at that point I saw it all, exactly what I wanted to do, artistically.  I grabbed the scissors and glue, a rusted bottle cap, a jewel and an ocean scene and finally created my interpretation of "Icarus".

Short, Short Story of Icarus

Icarus wanted to fly to the sun.

His father made him some wings of wax

    and warned him not to fly to close to the sun.

But Icarus flew to the sun anyway

And his wings melted.

He fell into the ocean

Where he drowned.

Grandfather Heron

After about ten years of an artist's block, for numerous reasons I won't go into, I have finally become inspired again.  This week I've painted five small paintings, 5x7, to be exact.  It doesn't matter, ideas are flooding my brain...and I have one small canvas left.

This painting is called "Grandfather Heron".  It is 5x7 on canvas, mixed media collage.

Calling Coyotes

The full moon on Monday night reminded of a time when the moon was full in January, 18 years ago.  My sister-in-law was staying in our Greenhouse at the Garden.  I capitalize Garden because the Garden has always been a place of reverence for me.  It is a place of solitude and beauty, flowers among the vegetables in the lower garden, paths and flowers in the upper garden.

 Back to my story.  On this full moon night I walked down the hill, into the tree-lined path to the bowl-shaped area ...the Garden.  My way was lit by silver light from the moon.  Lanna met me and we stood around a small dying bonfire where a few red embers crackled.We spoke softly.  Then she played her flute, a nice melodic tune.  It was magical...the moon, the silver light, the flute music.

And then, a feeling crept over me. I became apprehensive (another word for scaredy cat).  Was someone or something watching us? Stalking us?  I scanned the limestone shelf  that cradled the garden,strained to see through the trees, looking, but hoping not to see anything.  The yellow beam of the flashlight seemed out of place in the silver moonlight.

"Sshhh", I told Lanna.  "you'll call the coyotes."  No sooner had I said it than the woods surrounding the garden was filled with the yipping and howling of coyotes.  Her music had lured them to us.

For years I've thought back on this scene. So this morning I dug through old drawings and I'm posting two different "doodles" of the event.

Cranes

This morning I heard the FAA had given clearance for the Whooping Cranes to fly away from Alabama to Florida, http://www.operationmigration.org/. This is important to me because my twin sister, Merry, follows their path to her state.  In fact, last year she had gone to the town where the whooping cranes land to watch them fly in with the ultralite plane.  However, there was a delay and they were rescheduled.  In the meantime, her husband had a brain tumor and ended up in the hospital, and she missed the landing of the whooping cranes.  Maybe this year.

The only cranes that I see are the Sand Hill Cranes who migrate south in December and January.  They land on the farm fields near me.  They are beautiful birds.  This year Kentucky passed a new hunting law that gave hunters a permit to shoot the Sand Hill Cranes.  I was extremely upset by this.  Are they going to eat these cranes?  NO!  I suppose they will hang them on the walls in their den and have bragging rights.   

This morning after hearing about the Whooping Cranes, I realized that I have incorporated cranes into my art for years.  The image of this is not good as it was taken with a 2.0 digital camera and the whites never did appear white.

This one was painted in 2000.

This was painted in 1999.

I will never understand the mind of a sports hunter, the need to kill for the sake of killing.  I've run several hunters off my farm in the past and will continue to do so.  As a friend said, make sure I don't wear my tan

coat or I may just end up on their den wall, peering back at the hunter with green glass eyes.