This one is possibly the craziest thing I’ve done in a while. It came out of this one that I posted last week:
It got flipped around. You can see some of the elements in the top painting. Stuff just started emerging and I went with it.
This one is going to an old friend from high school. She is going to have heart surgery and I wanted to do a piece for her. She’s an artist and will appreciate the effort, I think.
This was just a lot of fun to do. I may do more like this.
My daughter took me to see this archway someone in my town made. We think it’s a tree that was mostly cut down and then the existing vines were formed into an arch. Couldn’t get a better shot but this was a great outdoor piece.
Still cold in Northern NJ. Have a good week! Nina
This one should be called “Don’t Fence Me In”. The fence came out of nowhere and I liked it. This one reminded me of a very old painting I did early 90’s:
I like separate components that pull together on the picture plane. I finished this one that I’ve been playing around with for a while:
A couple of others that aren’t done.
Thank you to all WordPress friends. It is wonderful to have your support in my painting endeavors. Nina
the crunch of footsteps
clear blue sky
reflecting the rain
changeable skywind spatters
colors patterned light
full moon of autumn appears
leaves too soon amidst hopes of endless harvest
fragments linger, gold glittering
stars remember every invisible map
imprinted on the approaching dark
earth saturated with bonfires and bones
Two haiku and a sevenling for October and Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday theme, suggested by Franci Hoffman, the harvest moon. The photos are of September’s full moon traveling across the southern sky outside my window. In the first one, it’s half reflected on the window pane.
The artwork is the first page, front and back, of a handmade paper journal I bought on Etsy. I bought three, one each for myself and my sisters-in-law, as we all have great intentions to do art journals–and hopefully this will get us going. I painted the page, and stitched over the front with a technique I’ve been wanting to try. Since the color bled through the paper, I did a small autumn grid on the back.
My friend had morning tickets to the Alice Neel show at the Met and invited me. I haven’t been to New York City since Kerfe’s birthday in January 2020. The city seemed the same but different. All the restaurants had these outdoor areas gussied up with plants. I wouldn’t like to eat in one because if someone walked by smoking a cigarette I’d lose my appetite.
I’d seen an Alice Neel show with Kerfe a few years ago and I remember it as mostly portraits. This show was a retrospective and had a lot of pieces I liked so I thought I’d show you. Here were some of my favorites:
Sorry I didn’t write down the titles. I also didn’t photograph her drawings which I liked a lot.
This last drawing was done by Neel when she was in a mental hospital for a year. She had a very intense life which showed in all her work but especially this drawing:
I should have photographed some of the portraits which made up her main body of work. Her expressiveness and technique inspired me and I’d like to do some larger paintings one of these days.
a loud mouthed gathering
of white crested coral–
A Badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday and Draw a Bird Day.
Galah cockatoos are native to Australia, where they live in large flocks on open grasslands feeding on seeds, berries and insects. But they also can be seen in urban settings, where their raucous calls and adaptations to human habitation are often considered nuisances. The word galah means fool or clown in the Aboriginal language of Yuwaalaraay and is used as such as a derogatory term in Australia (or so the internet tells me…any Australians reading this can confirm or deny)
Cockatoos are highly social and intelligent, and are bred and sold as pets. But these very traits make them not only very high maintenance, but possibly destructive and dangerous. I’ve written about this before–these animals should not be confined and separated from the flocks that are their natural social groups.
Atlantic Puffins are seabirds that breed in large colonies on cliffs or offshore islands along the North Atlantic coast of both Europe and America. When not breeding, they spend most of their time on the ocean.
Each time I look for information about the birds I draw, I find declining numbers, even if they are not yet endangered. Habitat destruction. Declining food sources. Overhunting.
Puffins are no exception. How to reverse these trends?
Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end. No magic formula to suddenly turn things around.
It’s a process. No moment exists when the fragility and interdependence of ecosystems reaches perfect balance, when humans can relax and ignore the repercussions of our behavior. We must remain always aware, always learning, always willing to make necessary changes to insure continuity. To keep the circle connected and alive.
I challenged myself to see if I could take Merril’s quote from Jo Harjo and do a prosery for dVerse. It actually fit the theme of Draw a Bird Day quite well.
“Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.”
Here’s some information about Atlantic Puffins:
–Their wings become flippers underwater. They are excellent divers and can reach depths of 200 feet.
–The hinges on their beak allow them to carry several fish at once.
–They have been observed using sticks as tools.
–Their nicknames are sea parrot or clown of the sea. Puffin chicks are called pufflings.
–Puffin colonies are referred to as a burrow, a circus, or an improbability.
–Puffins mate for life and often return to the same nest or burrow. They lay a single egg which both parents brood for several months.
–They spend the winter on the open ocean, rarely returning to land.
sheer and continuous
sparkled currents rising
A badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday prompt, the photo by Trent McDonald, below.
Trent’s photo made me think of all of Sue Vincent’s photo prompts, and all the watercolor mandalas I painted in response to her images. Thanks, Trent, for the equally magical landscape.
This badger’s hexastitch has a very cinquain-like feel to me–not intentional, but I think it works.
My prose poem Passing, inspired by “After the Storm”, by Istvan Farkas, below, is posted on The Ekphrastic Review today.
It was before and then it was after. The ground was reflected in the monochromatic sky, rising in the disappearing drizzle, held momentarily by the scattered light. The canopy could not be breached, not even by the unveiling here and now.
You can read the entire poem here.
My thanks once again to editor Lorette C. Luzajic for supporting my work and the interaction between the visual and written arts.
keeper and creator
measuring magic by the moon
For Colleen’s #TankaTuesday poet’s choice and for Draw a Bird Day, a didactic cinquian.
The Egyptian god Thoth was often represented as an ibis, or an ibis-headed man. Like the sacred ibis bird, he was associated with knowledge, wisdom and the moon, but also much more. Scribe to the gods, he taught men to write. He was the reckoner of time, “he who balances”, a scientist and magician.
Millions of ibis birds were mummified in Ancient Egypt as offerings to Thoth. The sacred ibis is now regionally extinct in Egypt, although it is still found in other Sub-Saharan African lands.
One species of ibis found in eastern American coastal regions is the glossy ibis. From a distance it appears to be a mostly uniform dark color, but close up its feathers become an iridescent rainbow.
Today is #WorldMigratoryBirdDay. The glossy ibis flocks that breed along the NE coast migrate to the Gulf of Mexico for wintering. As with all shore dependent migratory birds, saving our natural shorelines are one key to their survival.
Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.