P and I took a quiet walk along the West Rivee Trail late this evening. I noticed so many intriguing holes in the ground, in logs, in trees. Then when we were nearly at the end of the trail: a great blue heron!
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Trawling Tobacco Barn today, I could not resist these deeply strange objects. A mannequin arm with broken fingers, a mummified turtle claw, a cement man labeled 'Easter Island', a group of crosses made of iron spikes.
Monday, June 27, 2016
I stopped by the chicken yard to do some drawings of the grasses there. I'm working on a print of 13 chickens moving around in the big grassy yard, and my grass stamp looks too rigid.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Friday, June 24, 2016
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Tuesday, June 21, 2016
Monday, June 20, 2016
This Japanese lily popped open this morning, a solstice celebration if there ever was one. I walked 4 1/2 miles under the bright afternoon sun, saw cows standing in a tight circle as I walked along the road headed to the trail. At Owen Pond Canada geese and babies were silently grooming.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
P and David and Hillary and Lindsay and Maya and I headed out after lunch to hike the east river trail starting at Owen Park. Such a perfect almost-cool, sunny, crisp, slightly breezy afternoon. D and M jumped into the icy river while the rest of us cheered them on.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
Friday, June 17, 2016
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Sunday, June 12, 2016
At my friend C's house today I saw a catalog of work by Margo Klass, an Alaskan artist (www.margoklass.com). Her pieces were all diorama-like arrangements of simple objects that picked up meaning from their juxtaposition with other objects.
So borrowing an idea from Margo Klass, I set up some conversations between and among tonight's objects.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Friday, June 10, 2016
Yesterday I did only a couple of Jesse texture drawings, so today was a big makeup day. With 18 drawings to do, I headed back down to the chicken yard.
The hot, dry dust was just what the hens wanted after all that wind! They had hollowed out a half dozen bowls and they were dancing and pecking and scratching and hunkering down in the bowls. The big rooster paraded around, too important to play in the dust.
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
To celebrate my first trek along the dear river trail this afternoon, I took the little side trail to the chicken yard. High winds from the outer part of the hurricane were blowing everything around in the sunny stinging dryness. The chickens were crazy!
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Monday, June 6, 2016
In honor of being able to lie on my back without head-cracking pain, I decided to celebrate by moving on to the screened back porch, Jesse's summer quarters and the home of P's Peace Lily nursery.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Still healing this beast and don't feel up to much drawing today. I grabbed a handful of little things that remind me of worry dolls or worry stones. Maybe drawing them will be as soothing as fingering a smooth worry stone; maybe drawing will take the place of putting the wotty doll under a pillow to disempower it-- maybe I can drop the worry that I am never going to feel unmiserable again. I am NOT a patient patient.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Still running a low fever today, I thought of drawing everyone who walked down our street today. This seemed like a good idea early this morning when a strange woman wearing a voluminous bathrobe over pajamas paused with her dog and stared into the woods.
Friday, June 3, 2016
The little cold that K and I shared last week morphed into a sinus infection while I was flying home. I've been more or less miserable all week and wondering why I was so wiped out and achy. Today I dug out our ancient thermometer and discovered I have fever.
When I was a kid and when I had kids, fever was the big divide between the truly sick and the malingerer. My Mom's rule: with fever you stayed in bed and even after the fever broke you still stayed in bed an extra day.
So today's sad drawings are from my bed and include the thermometer, the Kleenex box, one of the millions of used kleenexes, a banana, some frozen blueberries, the nasty but effective tincture from the acupuncture clinic with its dropper and my Dad's old sherry glass with tinture in it, a giant bottle of water, a tub of white miso for soup.
What I really yearn for is to be in New Orleans in the 70's where the sinus-afflicted could turn themselves over to Dr. Cairns, who would poke astringent-soaked gauze up both your stopped up nostrils and send you out to sit under a heat lamp in his sinus bakery. There you and about 10 other dripping sufferers would spend a half hour soaking up wonderful soothing heat and catch the drips from your nose on kleenexes. At the end Dr. Cairns would pull out the gauze and voila! You could breathe and your face no longer throbbed.
Check out this link: https://m.youtube.com/watch?feature=youtu.be&v=Sh50gvVjU8c