Monday, September 30, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
|13 x 20 (half sheet of Yupo Synthetic Paper|
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
Thursday, September 12, 2013
|Sketch on WC paper (w/mock printing)|
|The way the wc paper looks after the mock printing has been put down.|
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Today I just want to pay tribute to my favorite poet, Mary Oliver. I keep a tiny little quote from her under the name header where I name my blog.
Today is her birthday. She is 78. Just 5 years older than I am. Garrison Keillor's daily poems and notes gives some background on her life below..most of which I had read before. But it is always interesting to know more about people who write fascinating things.
I own a copy of American Primitive her book that won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. I keep it here in the north woods as it seems the nicest place to read it.
Although the poems are written about all different places. There is even one about Flamingo, Florida in the Everglades...a place I have fun memories of.
Here is some interesting things about her life:
It's the birthday of one of the best-selling poets in America, Mary Oliver (books by this author), born in Maple Heights, Ohio, a suburb of Cleveland (1935). When she was a teenager, she dropped out of college and made a pilgrimage to Edna St. Vincent Millay's estate in upstate New York, and although Millay had been dead for some time, her sister Norma still lived there. The two women hit it off, and Oliver ended up living on the estate for several years. It's there that she met Molly Malone Cook, who had come to pay a visit to Millay. Oliver and Cook fell in love and moved to Provincetown, Massachusetts, together. Cook became Oliver's literary agent, and also sometimes impersonated Oliver for phone interviews because she hated talking to the press. They were together for more than 40 years, and after Cook died in 2005, Oliver published Thirst (2006), a collection of poems about her grief.
She won the Pulitzer Prize in 1984, for her collection American Primitive (1983), and she's one of the best-selling American poets, but she's a very private person who rarely gives interviews. Oliver's most recent book is A Thousand Mornings (2013), and her upcoming bookDog Songs (2013) will be released this October.
Mary Oliver wrote: "Every day I walk out into the world / to be dazzled, then to be reflective."
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Thursday, September 5, 2013
11 x 15 WC/multi-media on two sheets of Yupo
The top sheet is translucent...
you see the darker grayish tree which is another painting under it.
Actually I posted the first sketches for this painting a week or so ago and the poem by Mark was posted with it.
I am entering this painting in a juried show in Wisconsin that pairs artists and poets. It's going to be hard to enter this digitally because the idea of the double painting is just not going to show up very well in a photo. But it is something new for me to try this technique. I took this photo under artificial light so it's not the best either!
The front tree is a poured painting and then when it was dry I cut it out (so to speak) by re-wettting the rest of the painting and lifting off the color I did not want. It will be a technique I can demo for my Yupo class (see side bar) on the 18th. The "tree that died" is painted on regular Yupo paper and slipped under the first one. So it has a feeling of another dimension.
The painting is dedicated to my friend, Kendra, who passed away on August 12. I have loved this interpretive kind of painting which is somewhat "out of my comfort zone". So it has been an interesting assignment on many levels. My friend, Christine knows how to do professional photography or scans for submissions like this and is going to handle that end for me.
I have to call this "multi-media" since I used ink for the lettering.
Here is Mark's poem in case you didn't see it the first time:
A Burr Oak We Pass by Mark Nesslar
A tree will sometimes grow in a way such that it appears unnatural.
Say it grew around another tree and that one died, was cut into pieces,
And hauled from the forest by draft horses and log chains, and of the scars,
where it pealed the earth, none remain.
If you choose to look, not at the tree, but the space it describes,
you see where two shapes entwined. The powerful barked limbs
curled to hold the air as delicately as the lover holds the beloved,
while the space, remembering most patiently the years embrace,
extends outward to encompass all.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
|Ciceron, Brabs, Hypnotic, Jetties, Purk|
|Zanzee Brubs, Tipple|
Monday, September 2, 2013
|Crusade, Chime, Cadent (v)|