Three in Won

Last Friday, I entered the Houston Civic Art Association's Greater Houston Open Show. Each artist was allowed to submit up to three paintings. Turns out that all three paintings I submitted won awards; one first place and two honorable mentions, all for portraiture. Because of facebook updates, many of you already know this, and have asked that I include photos of the winning paintings. Thank you all for your kind words and congratulations.

This particular art show was judged from the actual work. On Friday, the artists were asked to submit their work. And then at 5pm on Saturday, we were to come pick up the pieces that weren't selected for the show. Since I never received a phone call saying that my work was selected, I naturally assumed that none of the paintings were selected. I thought that I would be going to the HCAA Gallery to collect my three entries. What a delightful surprise to see ribbons on all three paintings!



The fella who did the judging was still there, and was summoned to critique my work in front of me (and a small crowd of folks who gathered around us.) He gushed over "Symphony in Flesh Tones and Pink" which won first place. He especially liked the eyes in the painting, which was interesting because he said that when he teaches portraiture, he tells his students to never draw or paint the eyes the way I did in that painting. He then looked back and forth from my eyes to the painting's eyes and was further convinced that the reason the eyes were so wonderful in the painting was because I had copied my own eyes. (It's not true.) Then he talked about the brush strokes, and color placement, and the this and the that....such technicalities. A lot of what he was saying was going over my head, even though I was trying really hard to concentrate. Heavens, this was a well regarded professional giving me one on one advice and attention! It started sounding (to me) like the teacher on Charlie Brown cartoons, "wah wah wah wah wah wah." (Focus Sarah. Focus.) At one point he cautioned me to be careful about not letting art instructors influence my style. Well, that one's easy. I don't take lessons.



He critiqued the two honorable mentions in much the same way, though he preferred "First Time at the Rodeo" over "Hilary Holding the Baby." He admitted that he would have given the second place to "First Time at the Rodeo" but felt it only fair to spread out the awards. Even though it was a blind judging, (all artists' signatures were covered,) he could tell that all three paintings were done by the same artist.



The artist reception for the winners is this upcoming Thursday, October 29th from 6 - 8pm at HCAA Art Gallery, 5202 Bissonet. The gallery is located in the Bermuda, I mean, Bellaire Triangle area. For whatever reason I had no trouble finding the gallery on Friday when I dropped off the work, but by the time I went back on Saturday, the gallery seemed to have magically disappeared. What is it with the Bellaire Triangle? Does anyone else have trouble finding things and places in that little triangle of streets?

Fiesta Forever

Lawndale Art Center knows how to throw a good party, and last night's Dia de los Muertos Gala was a festive event. It was noisy, lively, and crowded like a good party should be. Houstonians were out in full force to support Team Lawndale. (My retablo is not visible in this photo. It's actually just left of the last retablo on the top left wall....)


One of my artist friends graciously offered to take this photo (of me) standing in front of "Still Life Goes On." Just as Cynthia was about to snap the pic, an unknown gentleman walked behind her and volunteered a very lovely compliment on my appearance, hence the "aw shucks thank you very much" smile, after which he asked if I would please e-mail him a copy of the photo. Well, here it is mister.


After the Lawndale shindig last night, I joined Reese at our friend and neighbor's 60th birthday fiesta. Ah, more good times. Just see....my big amazing man Reese is singing Cielito Lindo with the mariachis, after which he spun me in his arms as we waltzed around an improvised dance floor.

Dear God, I love that man.

Time Crunch

Yesterday, I spent the entire day moving my art studio from downstairs to upstairs, and the guest room from upstairs to downstairs. It was as exhausting and as menial as it sounds. However, I am quite looking forward to painting in the upstairs studio. The room is a little more spacious and has much much very much better light.

While moving everything, I realized that there is some old "inventory" that should be removed forever from this house. It might be time for another bonfire in the back yard to burn all those old paintings.

When I burned a bunch of stuff last time, I regretted not saving one part of one painting. Therefore, on this rampage, I'll take scissors to my work (and cut out parts to keep) before the torch destroys everything.

The Dia de los Muertos Gala at Lawndale Art Center is tonight. Typically, I can't decide what to wear. The weather has turned quite chilly, so that limits the ole wardrobe a bit. Not only that, but the event starts in an hour and a half, and Skipper just rolled in poo. UGH! I have to bathe the stupid dog, right NOW. Gross.

L-O-V-E

Once, when we were very new newlyweds, we found out that some friends of ours were celebrating their tenth anniversary. We looked at them excitedly and practically shouted, "Isn't it great?! Don't you just LOVE being married?!!!" The husband looked at his wife with a look of defeat and said, "Every year's been rough." She nodded her head in agreement and dejectedly chimed in, "Yep. Every year's been rough." Had they not been looking at each other so wise and knowingly at that very moment, they would have seen us physically deflate. We honestly couldn't believe it.

When we made it to year ten, Reese and I looked at each other and said, "Yep. Every year's been rough."

Sure, there are rough days, weeks, months....but there are great ones, too.

This is what 25 years (for us) looks like. (Our wedding anniversary is tomorrow.) The photo was taken a couple of days ago at the Angel Store opening at Betz Gallery. It reminds me of this:

L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore can

Love is all that I can give to you
Love is more than just a game for two
Two in love can make it
Take my heart and please don't break it
Love was made for me and you

My friend, Lynn

This is Lynn. Lynn is an incredible gentleman. One of Lynn's defining characteristics is that he thoroughly enjoys helping others, of which I have been a beneficiary more than once.

Lynn likes to share. Lynn shares his laughter, his time, his good company and conversation, his strength, his engineering know-how, and his tools. Lynn has more kindness in his pinkie finger than some people have in their entire souls.

Last week, Lynn and I spent an entire afternoon working side by side in his workshop. It was an exceptionally hot muggy Houston day, especially for October. It was exhausting and delightful at the same time.

Without Lynn's generosity of spirit, "Still Life Goes On" wouldn't have been finished in time to submit to Lawndale Art Center's Gala and Retablo Silent Auction on Friday, October 23, 2009 7-9 PM. (Tickets available by calling 713 528 5858) Thanks, Lynn.

Still Life Goes On

The title and piece, Still Life Goes On has multiple meanings. It can be interpreted numerous ways:
1.) Still Life Goes On...meaning that the flowers represent a still life.
2.) Still Life Goes On....when a loved one dies, life for those left here on earth still continues forward.
3.) Still Life Goes On....can also mean when someone dies, the body (as many believe) transmogrifies from bodily form into spirit form.
4.) The flowers are, in the piece, coming out of the faucet, as if when the faucet is turned on, life springs forth.
5.) The working clock represents time and the concept of eternity.
6.) The blue background is the exact color of the Texas sky on September 14th of this year, which represents both the what we see while here on earth and the heavens above the earth.
7.) The saw blade (clock face) represents the harshness and suffering we all "face" at some point in our lives, yet Still Life Goes On.

It was created for Dia de los Muertos at Lawndale Art Center as a contemporary interpretation of traditional, devotional art. Starting bid $150, a bargain at four times the price.

Gala and Retablo Silent Auction
Friday, October 23, 2009 7-9 PM
Admission: $40 per person
$30 for Lawndale Members
Available at the door, by calling 713.528.5858
or email askus@lawndaleartcenter.org

The Ole Cruiser

The ole cruiser (the bike, not me) is still able to ride the streets of Houston, though with quite a few creaks and groans (both me and the bike.) This photo was taken before the start of Critical Mass, an organized chaos of a bike riding event. During the ride, the gears started clacking and changing at will, which led us back to the Third Ward Bike Shop to fine tune the ole cruiser (the bike, not me.) All this to say that the ole cruiser (the bike...and consequently me) was the "pseudo-star" of a story that was finally published in the Houston Chronicle last week.

Last week, I delivered the Angel Oak Tree painting to Betz Gallery for the Angel Exhibit; the opening is October 17th.

Another painting (called Reese and Hilary in Galveston) was delivered last week to Rice University to be part of an art exhibit in conjunction with the Shell Center for Sustainability Houston Water Conference. The exhibit is in Farnsworth Pavilion in the Ley Student Center and is open to the public now through October 29th, during regular hours.

Though not ready, the retablo is due this week at Lawndale Art Center for their Dia de los Muertos Exhibit. (*Deep sigh* and shaking my head); I just don't see from where the time will come to finish and deliver it. (Another deep sigh and shake of the head); it just doesn't seem possible. Good grief! The ole cruiser (me, not the bike) is feeling slightly desperate for more time. Argh!

No Concept

This pathetic little critter is our pet. He's guarding his favorite toy, a stuffed monkey. His pedigree in the dog world equals Prince Charles in the people world. He has taken it upon himself to roll in poo twice in the last three days.

The concept art isn't going so well...mainly because we aren't concept art types around here. At this point, anything I paint won't have time to dry before it's due for installation at Lawndale Art Center, so it's this concept idea, or nothing at all. The vote around here is nothing is preferable to the concept.

A Beautiful Concept

Funny how recurring threads of conversation keep popping up, no matter the situation or crowd. At two separate parties, including the Post-Diversionist dinner (photo above), with two completely different sets of folks, the conversational theme centered around Art with regards to Beauty versus Concept. Had I been up to date on philosophical readings, I would have deferred to Kant and his view of aesthetics. The following paragraph is quoted from a wikipedia article on aesthetics.

Viewer interpretations of beauty possess two concepts of value: aesthetics and taste. Aesthetics is the philosophical notion of beauty. Taste is a result of education and awareness of elite cultural values; therefore taste can be learned. Taste varies according to class, cultural background, and education. According to Kant, beauty is objective and universal; thus certain things are beautiful to everyone.

Quoting wikipedia again...

Conceptual art is art in which the concept(s) or idea(s) involved in the work take precedence over traditional aesthetic and material concerns. In conceptual art, the idea or concept is the most important aspect of the work.

My own artist statement reflects my personal belief that without beauty, art is undefined. A concept, while often thought provoking (yet sometimes just plain baffling,) is, in my humble opinion, not necessarily art. That said, I'm working on a concept for a piece to be in Lawndale Art Center's upcoming Dia de los Muertos exhibit. I hope that, even though it is a concept, it will be recognized as beautiful, and therefore, art in it's own right.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Life is never short of misadventures. To say that the week has been unusual would be an understatement. Without going into details, suffice it to say that life, at the moment, is abundantly full.

One thing that I'm actually looking forward to and have been preparing for all week is a gathering of the Houston area Post-Diversionists for supper at our house this Friday evening. The Post-Diversionists are a collective of various artists from the Houston area who, for whatever reason, have all done individual portraits of Martin DeVore. Martin is an endlessly enthusiastic supporter of working artists in the Houston area and one of the founding members of the Post-Diversionists.

It will be my first time to meet several of the artists in the group. It will be their first time to try Sarah's Spaghetti Sauce. And yes, this time I'll remember to go easy on the cayenne pepper.

Angel Oak Tree

Almost all week I've been working on a painting for Angel Store, an exhibition featuring angels and benefiting the Justice for Children Foundation. Normally, I wouldn't even enter this type of exhibit, because painting angels isn't really my thing. But the cause is a good one, and a dear friend was incessantly persistent that I enter.

It must be fairly obvious by now (for regular readers) that I paint what I see. Honestly, I haven't seen any angels floating around the studio lately. So then, what to paint? After an extensive amount of Google-ing, I finally found something of interest. Instead of a traditional biblical angel, which are all artist renderings anyway, I decided to paint the Angel Oak Tree which incidentally is located in the Charleston, South Carolina area, not too far from where my little brother lives.

This painting is purposefully more lively and colorful that the norm (for me.) The look and feel I was intending to portray is other worldly...like an angel.

Some Influences

As mentioned in a previous post, the weather has been unseasonably HOT in Houston this summer. So when some cooler dryer air blew in earlier this week, I took advantage of the opportunity to paint en plein air.

In the photo at right, I am putting some finishing touches on a painting of the lilies in our pond. Using water lilies as subject matter is undoubtedly influenced by the late great Claude Monet.


The next day I started this. It's meant to be in the style of Picasso's Self-portrait with a palette, 1906.

In our pseudo-library is a decent collection of art books, the numbers of which grow on a fairly regular basis. On the cover of one of the Picasso books is a close up of the Picasso self portrait. Generally, I'm not a fan of Picasso, but there's no doubt of his influence on the art world.


At a little more than 100 years later, I guess this one should be called Self-portrait, 2009. This is my offering of a smidgen of respect for Picasso's universal appeal, and my own intrigue at some of his more realistic works.

A note of observation: It was too muggy to paint outside when the self portrait was started, or I probably would have painted the lilies again. One can see how my hair got more frizzy as the day progressed. In the beginning, it was straight. By the end of the day, it was back to it's more normal puffy disheveled-ness.

Saucy

I have a confession to make.

When I was in college lo these many years ago, I was complicit in a not so nice trick played on a friend's house mate. The housemate (we'll call him Jim) was quite full of himself. Jim was certain he was the best ____ (fill in the blank) at everything he did. Jim made sure everyone within earshot knew about his many accomplishments. Jim was convinced that he was the best looking fella on campus. Jim knew that all "the babes" were in love with him, a topic of which he spoke with great frequency. (They weren't.) Jim would leave home every day at the same time and go for an hour bike ride. Jim would return, go to the pantry and take out a can of tuna. Jim would then open his tuna can with great flourish as he expounded on the numerous virtues of tuna. Jim would then fix a tuna fish sandwich for lunch. Jim was absolutely convinced that his tuna fish diet would turn him into a lean mean fighting machine (which it didn't.) This bike ride/tuna routine happened every day...like clock work.

Well, my friend and I got a little (OK, a lot) annoyed at Jim's constant narcissism.

Back then, I don't know if it's the same today or not, I haven't checked lately, but back then, cat food cans looked remarkably similar to tuna fish cans.

One day during Jim's daily bike ride, my friend and I went to Star Market and bought a few cans of cat food. We then went home and with an X-Acto knife, carefully peeled the labels off the tuna fish cans and applied them to the cans of cat food...and put the cat food back exactly where the tuna had been before in the cupboard. Jim came home from his ride, and predictably, went to the pantry. Jim opened the can of cat food (with a tuna fish label) and fixed himself a sandwich, all the while delivering a sermon on the glory of all things Jim....and of course, the virtuous attributes of tuna.

Jim never noticed that he was eating cat food.

The reason for the confession is this: somewhere somehow, the universe remembered what I had done to Jim all those years ago. The universe decided that I needed a taste of my own medicine, so to speak. The universe played a trick on me.

What is undetectable in this photo is the spiciness of this particular batch of spaghetti sauce. My grave mistake in this batch of sauce was inadvertently adding cayenne pepper instead of chili powder. The jar was mislabeled. Even after adding more tomato sauce to the pot, it was still quite spicy. It's not the first time this has happened...though I do hope it's the last.


Sarah's Spaghetti Sauce

* 2 cans tomatoes
* 1 can tomato paste + 1 can red wine (with a little splash for the cook)
* 1 onion (grated or chopped)
* a few garlic cloves
* 2 t paprika (or a little more)
* 3 T olive oil
* 3 T brown sugar
* 2 t chili powder (NOT cayenne pepper)
* 1 T Worcestershire sauce
* 2 T ketchup

Combine all and simmer several hours. This, when prepared properly, (without cayenne pepper) is a family favorite.

Art Surfing

Normally high energy, my little sister was exhausted last night. In town for two days, she had requested an art tour of things art/big sister related in Houston. That's a mighty task to accomplish. Originally, a one day tour was planned, but even with two days worth of time, we barely accomplished everything on the list. She said that if I had gone to San Diego and surfed (her specialty) for two days straight that I would be as exhausted as she was seeing art (my specialty) for two days straight. She said it was as if we had been catching the big waves and art surfing for two days.

The spaces we actually walked in and around included the Byzantine Chapel, the Rothko Chapel, the Cy Twombly Gallery, The Menil Collection, the MFAH, The MFAH Sculpture Garden, The MFAH Glassell School of Art, the Contemporary Arts Museum, the Beer Can House, Xnihilo Gallery, the Japanese Garden, Lawndale Art Center, Block 7 Wine Company, and the Guild Shop.

Drive by's included the Pioneer Log House Museum, Winter Street Studios, David Adickes Sculptureworx Studio, Elder Street Gallery, the former Earth Gallery, the Art Car Museum, the Rose Garden, Bering and James Gallery, and the location where Reese and I go busking. :)

We also enjoyed the food at La Guadalupana Bakery, Tacos a Go Go, and the Chocolate Bar.

Yes, there were good times, big laughs, and tired feet in the Hazel house with my sister and her husband, and the art surfing in Houston was swell.

Is it?

Is it kind? Is it true? Is it timely? Is it necessary? Life is so much more pleasant when I remember to ask myself these four questions before speaking.

Inside Outside Upside Down

There's a children's book that we used to read to our daughters in the Berenstain Bears phase of childhood. It's called Inside Outside Upside Down. It's about Brother Bear playing in a cardboard box....which is an insignificant fact in and of itself. The book's simplicity and repetition is what keeps going through my head as I work at the computer. For directly above my head is this candelabra.
It is inside.
Inside the study.
On an outside wall.
Inside the study on an outside wall.
It is uncommonly hot.
In Houston.
Uncommonly hot in Houston.
The weather is overwhelmingly and uncommonly HOT in Houston this summer.
It is even hot inside my house.
It is hot inside my house in Houston this summer.
Upside down.
The candles are upside down.
It is so hot inside my house that the candles have melted.
The candles inside the study on an outside wall of our house are upside down because of the uncommonly hot Houston summer weather.
Inside outside upside down.

A Little Life

As mentioned in my last post, the Western Appliance Meets Wine Warehouse art exhibit opening was last Friday afternoon. The opening was scheduled from 4 - 7pm. At 2:30, Reese called to say that his car was overheating. Less than an hour later, he had called to say that he hoped his car would make it to the new St. Arnold Brewery location downtown, where he could park it for a few hours without fear of being towed, and which so happens to be within a 5 mile radius of Block 7, and if so, would I please come retrieve him from there? (Reese had been stopping at various intervals between Baytown and downtown on account of his car overheating and to use the payphone.)

By the time Reese and I hooked up on the feeder road at I-10 and San Jacinto, it was about 5 minutes til 4. Normally, I wouldn't fret over being "late" to an event such as this, but several people had specifically communicated that they were determined to make it to the opening on my behalf, and were definitely going to be there at FOUR. So naturally, I felt an amount of pressure to arrive in a timely fashion. At 4:05, Reese and I arrived at Block 7's opening reception and were relieved to discover that we were the first humans in attendance. Sigh.

Again, it bears repeating that the owners of Block 7 are super nice, at least the ones I've met. The above photo was taken in a moment of relative tranquility opening night. Standing with me are fellow artists, Aime Krebbs and Jeanne Haner.

Many times throughout the night, as I explained the story of how the art was created, the response most often repeated was that the ukulele was George Harrison's favorite instrument. Even though I was previously unaware of this fact, apparently it's fairly common knowledge.

Little life distractions during the opening were:

1. Reese and work -- he was in the middle of delivering a bond to the downtown jail when his car overheated. He left the opening for two hours to get his innocent-until-proven-guilty client out of jail.

2. Joy driving to Austin and checking in a couple of times asking questions about speeding and tickets. Joy asked, "For instance, are both the driver and the owner of the car responsible if the driver gets a speeding ticket?"

3. Hilary flying in from Bozeman, Montana, after working in Yellowstone National Park all summer, and missing her connecting flight in Denver due to Air Force One's priority on the runway and airspace. Turns out that Obama was due in Bozeman the day and hour Hilary and James left.

4. The curating of the Ukulele Still Life series -- the three pieces are displayed in the hallway outside the restrooms. After being my own docent for three hours, and explaining the series to more people than otherwise would have seen it in the retail area, it wasn't an altogether bad thing.

Finally!

The Block 7 Wine Company grand opening will be this Friday night, August 14th.

The art series I created in conjunction with the wine bar opening was started way back in the first week of January. The first opening date was supposed to be in March, then it was rescheduled for April, and then the schedule suggested that perhaps sometime in mid-May would be the opening. Honestly, I was beginning to think that all my work was for naught, so yesterday, I was delighted to get an e-mail extending an invitation to the Grand Opening. (there was much rejoicing....yaaaay.) Apparently, the art work created using the previous warehouse leftovers will actually be shown (!) and will kick off the weekend with a special exhibit reception on Friday, Aug 14th from 4-7pm. Events are free to the public all weekend, so please come enjoy wine tastings, food and live music if you are in the Houston area.

The exhibit is called Western Appliance Meets Wine Warehouse and features works (mine included) created from salvaged materials from Block 7's warehouse. According to the e-mail I received, Block 7 will have a special display set up for Friday, and the pieces will all be up at least until the end of the month.

Reese and I will be at Block 7 (720 Shepherd Dr., Houston, TX 77007) from 4-7 on Friday. Y'all come see us. (Call them for directions if you get lost on the way. :) 713 572 2565.)

Also, earlier this week a reporter with the Houston Chronicle came over to complete an interview and take a few photos. If the article is published, it will be in the Thursday's This Week section. If it's published, it will be about my cruiser bike lamp story. (We met the reporter at the bike workshop in the Third Ward a couple of months ago.) The photo at left is not the best quality, but at least there's proof that a super nice reporter named Tom Behrens was in our home. If nothing else comes of it, we had a nice little visit.

Lastly, a mother's pride swells my heart as I watch the below posted video. This is a glorious performance by my youngest, now 18 year old daughter Joy, eating a McDonald's hamburger in two bites. Such skill! Such talent! Such delight!

Skipper and the Three Hour Tour

On the way home from Mississippi, we stopped for a few days at The Antlers. The Antlers is a log cabin on Lake Cherokee that was built by Reese's great grandfather, Ewart Hoyt Lightfoot in 1948. Descendants of his son, Reese's grandfather Thomas Ewart Lightfoot have had use of the cabin in the six decades since. For a few more years, before the Antlers changes ownership, Reese and I have limited use of the cabin, and consequently the lake.

As mentioned in the last blog entry, Skipper, the petite pedigreed poodle pet of ours follows me with great devotion. He, at least with regards to me, truly is an always faithful dog as his middle names imply; Semper (always) Fido (faithful dog.) No question about it, Skipper adores me. In fact, it's fairly common knowledge that if Skipper had the strength to force Reese to walk the plank, he would, just so that he (Skipper) could have his mistress (moi) to himself.

Skipper, poor dear, is getting old. His teeth are falling out, his hair is so thin that one can see all his liver spots on his pink skin, undeniably, he has cataracts, and it appears that he may actually be blind in one eye. We had newly arrived at the Antlers, and were already on our second journey to pier's end to enjoy the view. Skipper is not new to the lake house. Skipper has walked on the pier many times. As I mentioned, he follows me everywhere, so back and forth on the pier is no exception. We heard his little clickety paws trailing behind us as we walked; and then.....the tiniest of splashes. Skipper, bless his teeny fast beating heart, pranced stage right off the pier and into the lake. Accidentally, of course. Thank God that Reese has long arms. He prostrated himself and rescued the poor pooch just before he swam out of reach. Reese gallantly took off his shirt, wrapped the pitiful sorrowful waterlogged pet in it, held him until his body heat transferred to Skipper and the shivering stopped. We were naturally distraught for Skipper and yet extremely tickled at the same time. Honestly, at random intervals throughout the evening, one or the other of us would laugh, and in the next breath say, "Oh, the poor dear."

The lake house is in possession, thanks years ago to Reese's dad, of a 1970's small fiberglass Sunfish sailboat. Some of Reese's fondest memories have been out on the lake in that little sailboat. This trip was no exception. After repairing the rudder, and re-attaching the sail, we harnessed what little wind there was and headed for a small island several miles away. Reese tacked back and forth and about 45 minutes later, we had sailed around, what is commonly referred to as Bikini Island. We paused, took a dip in the lake to cool off, refilled our water bottles, pointed north, and set sail for the cabin. Only now, there was no wind. In the space of a few minutes at the island, the lake surface had literally become as smooth as glass. It would have been perfect for water skiing had we the use of a ski boat, but it was not so great for sailing. Without wind to fill the sail, we were so still that we actually had time to become friends with a family on shore. It took us so long to "sail" past their pier that we watched a young teenage girl walk to the end of a pier, start fishing, catch a fish, the grandparents come out to congratulate the young fisherman, and us all discuss how proud we were of this young lady's accomplishment. [The fish was this big, as I hold my hands apart to demonstrate.]

Still no wind. Reese paddled. Reese jumped in the lake to push and pull us. Reese paddled some more. Every now and then I would shout, "I feel a breeze!" We would catch a wisp of air that would take us about twenty feet, and then perfect stillness again. It was a good thing that before our journey began, Reese encouraged me to bring a book and snacks. I have borderline hypoglycemic tendencies, which means that it's best for the environment at large that I eat on a regular basis. The book was Jane Eyre, which is so wordy and antiquated, that, being well fed, I was therefore quite distracted with reading. Hours passed, but many thanks to Reese's valiant efforts, by the grace of God above, we safely made it back to the Antlers. In my humble opinion, not sailing that afternoon made for an absolutely wonderfully charming memory with the most amazing Reese. And of course, our little pet couldn't have been more content. He was with me on the sailboat and he spent the entire time imagining that he was finally my Skipper, (and naturally Reese would have been his Gilligan) on our slightly more than three hour tour. Oh, the poor dear; Skipper still doesn't win.....I have always had a preference for Gilligan. :)

Amazing Grace

Last week Wednesday was another one of those days. In between cleaning and preparing to leave for a little vacation, it occurred to me that there might be a few hours that could be devoted exclusively to painting. So, I painted. But for various reasons, even after starting with brushes, I finished by using my fingers. Honestly, it's probably a cancer invoking health hazard to use one's flesh with lead based paints. If I grow a third ear, or cut off one of the ones already attached on either side of my head because of lead paint based insanity, I'll be sure to let my gentle readers know.

There was barely enough time to clean fingers and brushes before Reese and I were due at a neighbor's house to play bridge. The neighbor had knocked on the door to fetch us, but wanting to photograph the painting in good light, and knowing that we wouldn't be home before dark, and thinking there would be time to write about finger painting after bridge, I carefully yet hurriedly put the painting on the ground outside the back door to photograph it.

We have a pet. We have a five pound neurotic pedigreed out the wazoo toy poodle named Skipper Semper Fido. Skipper, with great devotion, follows me everywhere all day long. If I take three steps to the left, Skipper also travels the same distance in the same direction with the nails of his little paws clicking on the wood floors like a tap dancing lady in high heels. Add his identification tags which are a miniature version of a cow bell all day long, and please understand my immense dismay when I heard the clicking tinkling tiny cow bell at my heals. Skipper saw me in the doorway and was desperate not to be left behind. He launched himself into a stag's leap out the back door. Mid Skipper flight, it slowly began to dawn on me what was happening. That very wet painting was positioned exactly in the way of his landing. That dog must have somehow re-calculated and adjusted his flight pattern, or more accurately the landing based on the physics of everything, because those tap dancing high heeled paws of his just missed, by God's amazing grace, the wet painting on the sidewalk outside the back door by a hair's breadth. The neighbor was at the door waiting to play bridge, the dog almost gave me a freaking heart attack, and the excessively wet paint of the painting produced a big glare, as is evident in the accompanying photo.

And then, because of last minute preparations to drive to Mississippi for a Heidelberg family reunion, there still wasn't time to write a blog entry until now, now being one year exactly from our last visit here.

One year ago to the day, we were all in Jackson to celebrate my dad's 70th birthday. One year ago today, we went to church with my parents. One year ago today, I lost my glasses after leaving them in a pew at church...in Mississippi. Today, exactly one year later to the millisecond, after church, Reese and I were pointed in the direction of the lost and found. The lost and found is in a desk drawer of the church receptionist's office. The receptionist's desk and the drawer were behind a locked door. Providentially, someone with a set of keys to the office was near by, and knew which desk drawer hosted the lost and found. Slowly, Mr. Set of Keys opened the drawer. There appeared a surprising number of lost glasses. We looked through the ones in the front. None of those were mine. What about those glasses in the back? Mr. Set of Keys said that those were the glasses that had been there the longest. Then I said that that's where we should look, as my glasses had been lost one year ago today. As I looked in the back dark corner of that office drawer, the heavens opened and the angels started to sing. What amazing grace! Exactly one year later, in the deep dusty dark bottom of a desk drawer in a church receptionist's office in Jackson, Mississippi, were my glasses. Like the old hymn Amazing Grace says, they once were lost and now are found. I was blind, but now I see.

Best Laid Plans

Me, small and meek, and curiously busy
but has not time or moment to seek
more than some housework, which makes me dizzy,
the washing and folding, an occasional weed
to pull in the cracks and crevices
before the weed spreads to seed.

The days, weeks, and moments of planning
to work on a painting, the time is unjust
and what I imagine is time for the taking
is only a matter of time to adjust
my schedule to one or another of lacking
adequate time to begin the said painting.

The frustration experienced while trying to honor
the tug and the pull of different directions
the doer of chores, a wife and a mother,
the sweeping of floors, amidst imperfections,
never ending expectations to bother,
preparing a meal and tasty confections.

What will I do? Will time grant some peace?
Or a piece of time in which to begin
that blasted painting? Or will the mouse
win this battle with men
and nibble away at resolve like a louse
never a moment's piece of zen.

For what happens when hope is lost or is missing
and all of these years hope has been practiced
religiously believed and now it is dashing
like a wave on the shore relentlessly splashes
the moments add up and all of the sudden
one is broken, lost, and is perishing.

My hope is or was to work with a passion
whether cooking, cleaning, or things of that sort
to live each day in some sort of fashion
that elevates beauty, pure thoughts to transport
But life's best laid schemes require so much tension...
naive and hopeful, maybe tomorrow's for art.

Lady in a Red Coat

Painting portraits is hard. What on earth possessed me to think that anything about painting a portrait would be something that came naturally? Why do I keep torturing myself? Perhaps it's a disadvantage to have not studied art. It seems like for every painting, I have to re-learn how to mix paints to get the right colors. Well, at least this way, nothing is formulaic.

Painting is always a little easier (for me) when I pose the subject, or take my own reference photo. The subject of this painting is a very lovely friend, and this painting really doesn't do her natural beauty justice. Her husband took the reference photo, which is a piece of art in it's own right. But for the purpose of the painting, I took a few liberties. In the photo, she's wearing a black winter coat, which made it very difficult to distinguish where her hair ended and her coat began. Painted with the colors in the reference photo, the portrait looked dull and boring. But then, after changing the color of her coat to red....voila, it worked.

Silly Signs

OK, really? Eyelash Arts and Sciences? What?


Gender neutral? This must be here on account of those who might not remember whether or not they are male or female....just in case. It is in the corridor outside a bar, so maybe when one is inebriated, this facilitates a quick trip to the loo. Though, in a drunken state, the sign seems more likely to confound rather than relieve confusion with regard to gender. Or maybe it's only for those who are neither male nor female.(?) Or perhaps, this restroom is for those who consider themselves to be androgynous, a person who does not neatly fit into typical societal gender roles. So....all things considered, it is a rather thoughtful gesture, I suppose.

Dear Diary,

It would be a really good idea if I took advantage of tomorrow's quiet, empty house. Sigh. Deep breath. Relax.... Just practicing some self soothing techniques. Wouldn't it be great if the techniques actually worked? Well, sometimes they do, but not right now. I've got the jitters because I might actually have time, place, and opportunity to paint tomorrow. Nervous excitement is what Reese calls it. Whatever it is, I'm a bit apprehensive that my brain and hands won't remember how to paint, and yet strangely pleased that I get to try.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll start the day tomorrow with a smile....

Martinizing

It's so easy to get sucked into the computer vortex. Good grief! One thing leads to another, and another, and before realization fully kicks in, it's been hours. Presumably, time management would be enhanced if thoughts would flow a little more freely. But today, when I sat down to write about this week in art, so many competing ideas surfaced that it has taken a while to coalesce them in a concise manner.

Last week, I finished the painting of the Guadalajara Beggar Woman. It needed some refining touches, and now they are complete. Mmmm, looking at it here, I can see it might need more work...again. With oil paintings, it seems that they change some as the paint dries. And when I don't obsess over them for a while, then I can step back and assess the paintings more objectively, less passionately, which sometimes helps produce a better painting in the end. We'll see what happens with this one....

This week and last, I worked on a portrait of my good friend, Martin. It is unfinished as of yet, but Martin came over today and saw it, and liked it, so it stands to reason that a photo wouldn't offend in any way. One of the most difficult challenges of painting portraits is that everyone be pleased with the finished product. Maybe it helped that before he saw the painting, he was prepared by a gentle admonishment that the eyes, mouth, and fingers would be re-worked after the paint dries a bit....next week some time. It took forever (OK, not forever) to select and sketch the pose, but when I finally got this one on the canvas, it practically started to sing....or chat, as Martin often does. :) That's one reason of many I like him so much. Oh, and by the way, this painting is 95% finished. Sometimes though, that last 5% takes a long time to get done.

Also, the top photo was taken outside (Beggar Woman) and the bottom one (Martin) inside. Neither are true to the colors in their respective paintings. It's often a frustration that the photos of the art aren't a true match to what it's like to see them in person.