Weekend work 12/27/21
Worked a bit this weekend and I thought it was interesting to see the process/progress as I work on these paintings. The little bits of paper just add interest to me.
Honestly I like the before painting better. For some reason I start on black paper and wind up leaving no black showing.
The third one maybe still in progress. Again I left none of the black paper showing. That’s why I cut them out and start again.
I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday. Chilly in northern NJ today, stay safe! Nina
One out of three
I sat down this weekend to work on three more paintings. This seems to be a method that works for me. I can move amongst the three as the spirit dictates. This top one I kept working on after it seemed done. I like doing these swirling ones.
This one I started by painting the bottom of a vase on the black paper (I am still enjoying that). I already see a face in it but hope to go in another direction. I have one more precious sheet of the slips of words made into paper (gift from K) from which I extract the largest pieces. It just looks cool to me to have words in a painting.
This is one I’ve been working and overworking. Finally cut it out and glued it on black paper. It has possibilities.
A chilly start to Christmas week today. Hope everyone has a happy and safe week!
Nina
New Neighborhood: Favorite Thursday Doors 2021
The Other that defined
the Me that defined
the Where and How—
My heartmoor knows
the answer to the question
before it is even formed.
What is living but
a series of redefinitions?
A craxis.
Suddenly what was is no more,
and the Who finds itself
facing another set of doors,
hoping once again
to avoid the Over
that follows Start.
My favorite doors of the year are the first ones I posted, across the street from the apartment building I moved into last spring. It was my third move since the beginning of 2020.
Linda at dVerse provided some words from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig as inspiration for our poems. I used two:
Heartmoor: the primal longing for a home village to return to, a place that no longer exists, if it ever did.
Craxis: the unease of knowing how quickly your circumstances could change on you- that no matter how carefully you shape your life into what you want it to be, the whole thing could be overturned in an instant.
I hope this will be my last move, but life always seems to have its own ideas.
And you can see more favorite doors of the year at Thursday Doors here.
Weekend Work 12/13/21
It’s been a minute but this weekend I took a look at some paintings
I had started weeks ago and began to rework them. It felt good to be painting again.
This face appeared out of something else and I went with it.
Another one reworked with pieces of handmade paper gifted to me by Kerfe. I keep putting more paint on this to the point it looks chaotic. Maybe done, maybe not.
I hope to start doing more artwork going forward. Daughter organized my art supplies into some nice lucite containers so everything is convenient. I forget how relaxing it is to paint!
Hope all WordPress friends are doing well
Nina
Wreathed (Thursday Doors)
We feel
the Yule approach–
long dark nights, short grey days–
ending
the year–
the circle turns–
we say farewell, begin
again.
Welcome!
come into warmth–
connections reaffirmed,
renewed–
a wheel
of evergreen
and light—twining seeds in
to roots.
I have not seen many holiday decorations yet in my walks. But door wreaths have started to make an appearance. Although considered a Christmas decoration now, evergreen wreaths have an ancient history with the Yule season and Solstice. The door wreath has long been a sign of welcome and friendship as well.
This church has wreaths on both the railing and the door. You can’t see them very clearly in my photo, but the front doors are all wreathed as well.
I don’t know if my building will have a wreath or a tree, but we have Hanukkah lights.
My poem is in the Aquarian form, for Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday seasonal prompt, poet’s choice.
And you can see more seasonal Thursday Doors here.
Eagle (draw a bird day)
sacred king
of the sun, spirit
of mercy,
renewal,
visionary messenger–
extend us your wings
Eagles are one of the world’s largest birds, with massive wings that allow them to fly for a long time and with great speed, all with a minimum of effort. They can go many weeks between meals, and will eat whatever is available in their habitat–other birds, amphibians, fish, small mammals. They can carry up to four times their own body weight, but will often scavenge for food rather than killing live prey.
“Eagle eye” is not just a saying. An eagle’s vision is eight times sharper than a human’s–they see both much farther, and with greater focus. They can also see a wider range of colors, including the ultraviolet spectrum.
I decided to do an eagle this month because Nina sent me this wonderful wooden eagle that her father brought back from Jerusalem. I have a bird totem carved by my sister-in-law’s father that Nina thought would make a good companion–and it does.
Although I began by drawing bald eagles, I realized after a bit of research that Nina’s eagle was more likely a golden eagle, which was once a common inhabitant of Israel, but is now only represented by a few breeding pairs, for all the usual reasons–decline of habitat, human predation. So I drew a golden eagle as well.
My poem is a shadorma. The eagle has powerful symbolism in cultures all over the world. Thanks, Nina, for adding this beautiful totem to my living space!
The Kick-About #42 ‘Ice Spiral’
Some seasonal images inspired by Andy Goldsworthy.
After our short city break for the KA No.41, we’ve taken a brisk, bracing detour out into the wintry countryside, where we encountered Ice Spiral by the celebrated land artist, Andy Goldsworthy. Enjoy this latest collection of artistic responses to Goldsworthy’s fleeting installation of ice, light, place and form.
Graeme Daly
“When I felt the cold from this week’s prompt, I wanted to recollect the bitter winter in rural Ireland from last year. When I look at these photos, all I can think about is miniature vistas frozen in time: pocketed air bubbles, mimicking silver dollar plants, are trapped among planes of ice like tiny moons; milky swirls of frozen water interjected with brambles, which loop in and out like a serpent on the hunt, and if the camera panned up, something would surely arise from the mist!”
@graemedalyart/vimeo.com/graemedaly/linkedin.com/in/graeme-daly/twitter.com/Graeme_Daly/gentlegiant.blog
Phil Cooper
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Urban Assembly School for Green Careers Garden (Thursday Doors)
The city is full of sudden plantlife, unexpected oases surrounded by buildings, sidewalks, streets, schools, gates. A potted plant outside a doorway, a vibrant treewell, a median full of flowers, a community garden. A classroom for curious students, a delight for the eyes of a walker, a home for busy squirrels, chattering birds.
colors change between
here and now—they are only
made of light you know—
each shining moment has waves–
none of them ever repeat
I’ve photographed this beautiful gate and looked inside at the garden many times, but I never knew anything about it until I stopped and read the sign on the Amsterdam Avenue side. To be fair, it’s partly covered by a tree branch, and the benches below it are often full of people chatting or just resting along their way. What I discovered is that it’s part of the high school down the block, the Urban Assembly School for Green Careers. An outdoor classroom! I like that idea.
The gate itself has wonderful details, reflecting the focus of the space inside.
The students evidently open the gates to the community on occasion to share both their knowledge and what they have grown. I will keep a lookout for announcements of such an occasion in neighborhood newsletters. You can read more about it here.
The poem is my first attempt at Tanka Prose, as prompted by Colleen for #TankaTuesday.
And here’s a look at Riverside Park, which has finally decided it’s Autumn in New York.
You can see more doors and join in Thursday doors yourself here.
December 2021
deceptive,
this amidst—always
searching for
hereafter–
breath catches, consumed, clinging
to vanishing light
silence waits,
determinedly grey,
unfinished–
holding on
to the bare crowns of branches–
expectant, fallow
wind rattles
inside—brumal, edged
with frozen
promises–
hope hangs tenuous, threaded–
taut, still, wintering
A seasonal dVerse quadrille for my December grid. De provided the word crown as inspiration.
method two madness 
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