Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Since my last posting (several months ago) I've completed over two dozen pastels, but I couldn't get them photographed properly. I need sunlight, so it is an outdoor thing, and the weekends when I might have photographed them either it rained, was too windy, or the sun was too low in the sky. Last weekend I finally got to catch up, even though sporadic breezes still interfered about every third pastel as I worked my way down the stack.
This one seems like long ago now - I really like it.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Is anyone else confused and angry that the white rhino now only lives in captivity? This was another unplanned piece, the subject emerging from the depths of the lines on the paper and other depths, as well. The cut-off horns, overalls, and upright posture ("Four legs good, two legs better!") all speak to the forced domestication and the reason for the extinction. The smoke speaks of the wrath and the destruction.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Friday, December 4, 2015
This pastel initially emerged with another set of eyes in the lower inside corners of the large eyes. I found them impossibly distracting and they made the face disturbing in a way I did not intend - so they are "painted" over with the pastels. This guy is weird enough without four eyes.
This was the first pastel I completed after our October vacation, so nearly 6 weeks ago. The next is also an animal (two, really - it's called "Cousins").
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Many hikes we take in the Blue Ridge Mountains of NC present tantalizing views on the other side of barbed wire. The feeling that something is just out of reach adds longing and magic. Grass is greener. More Great Spangled Fritillaries.
Thursday, November 12, 2015
This was quite intentional, though placement of things was left to my hand to figure out on it's own (I watched and stayed out of the way). What I recall most, from wading in the low tide off Acadia National Park, is the water breaking low between the rocks, the green bladdered sea weeds, the dungeness crabs, the distant sky, and the white dog winkles lying between so many beautifully polished stones. While nothing in this pastel is from photos or exactly correct for colors or shapes, it captures my feeling and memory of the place.
And there is an echo of Gauguin in that breaker in the center, but I find that my memory of his wave is not actually in any of his paintings that I can find online. Something else transformed by it's trip through my heart.