Back to the future...

Just when I got my head around having time for painting... the Census called me back!

It was only for a few days, however, and I finished my assignment today, so tomorrow it's back to working on the shop/studio in the morning, and then spending the afternoon on my next large canvas.

In the short time I had between Census gigs, I did complete one small painting as well as making numerous drawings and getting that large painting started. So - all in all, a very good week!

Distant Rain, 10 x 14, acrylic on panel $125.

While I was out and about, small storms were springing up all round, with very scattered showers. Since my pastures were parched, I tried to capture the rain and carry it home to paint. In the past, I've had some pretty good success conjuring up a downpour by painting the rain to come (heh). If I continue to be successful in this endeavor, I shall have to patent my "rainpainter" process...

And for a heartwarmer - this is Lorelei, one of the amazing four-horned Jacob ewes who was part of my foundation flock years ago when I raised these wonderful wool sheep. I apologize for the photo quality, as my scanner doesn't work and I photographed the photograph. Lorelei struck up an amazing bond with a blind Giant Leghorn hen that I found bleeding and near death in the middle of the highway. She'd fallen from one of the coops used to transport these longsuffering creatures to the packing plant in Gainesville.

Did you know chickens don't qualify under cruelty to animals protection laws because they are designated as "produce" or a "crop" rather than animals? The coops - piled six to ten high - on huge flatbed trucks are in such poor repair that the roads into Gainesville are littered with the bodies of chickens who fall through broken and bent bars. It's horrible - but probably no worse a death than they would experience at the processing plant.
"Lulu" had been caged all of her brief life and didn't seem to know how to walk once her injuries appeared healed. She had such a serious head injury that she was blinded permanently. I used to keep her in a large pen that could be moved about the yard. I often let some of the older sheep graze the yard and one day I noticed Lorelei standing head to beak with Lulu. They stayed that way for a long, long, time - seeming somehow to be calmed by one another. It was uncanny. It was as if they somehow communicated with one another. Perhaps Lulu followed the sounds Lorelei made as she walked around, or maybe she could discern her presence by other means. All I know is that they were pals until Lulu passed on.

Powersources - and collaboration!

Powersource, the final version. I made very slight adjustments to the foreground and distant ground.

And as happens from time to time, a connection via internet brought me to the blog of Stu Hatton, an English poet, writer, editor living in Australia. And there I came across this perfect poem. Stu graciously gave me permission to post his words with my image - and in January 2010 to post A train, outbound (2007), next to the painting in my show as featured artist at the Sautee-Nacoochee Gallery.

A train, outbound (2007)

It takes minutes to leave the city. But to leave the city, mentally…
There are always nervous questions prior to departure. You must peel these off.
See this industrial district? It has fled nature.
Likewise I sometimes believe writing is an avoidance; you opt
for a conversation with yourself. Living very far apart.
The houses have satellite dishes as standard; ears to the wind.
Powerline towers, like posts of an enormous fence. These are and are not life-conductors.
Fields in which to expand, cease? As if cities were centres of forgetting.
Gazing out the window, I swim the wild grass.
- Stu Hatton Published in Shadowtrain #23, October 2009.

Powersource 24 x 24 acrylic on deep cradle panel

I'm thinking rain. I'm wishing rain. We're needing rain. If I paint it, will it come?

Apparently so... After nearly six weeks - and with rain all around me - finally a few showers overhead. It's tough to see anvil clouds, hear the thunder and drive through rain within a mile or so - only to arrive home to the same old dust and dusty drab brown, brown grass in one's own yard and pasture. But it began to rain here yesterday not long after I finished this painting...

My photo above sort of cut off the bottom so here's a "fisheye" shot with the entire panel. The tilting of the pole in the distance is a trick of the camera. I swear it's not like that on the actual painting. I'd love to get a better digital camera - one that can do close-up and details and not cause so much distortion. It's on my wish-list along with a new van, a trip to the beach, and enough treated lumber to build a pergola. (heh)

I'd love to hear whether anyone thinks I need "stuff" in the distant landscape. The artists at the gallery were giving me a lot of grief about that vast empty horizon. I'm unsure. This one will cure while I contemplate.

Any suggestions?

March roars in...

Toto 2 (for Peter)

With your dangerous beauty you
are like unto a tornado,
touching down,
laying waste to trepidation...

I am drawn, into your world,
seeking an Oz of my own.
Let me trade silver
for your ruby set in gold.

I look for you in the yellow moon
while the wind and City take you,
and the lies unfold,
I'll have this twisted ache to hold.

- patrice lynne young 2006

My fascination with funnel clouds and wild weather can be traced back to my Midwestern childhood in Central Illinois. and I've been working on several storm paintings once again. Two new ones posted here may be finished - but I'll live with them for a little while and check them out in different light before I seal them and prepare the panels for hanging. These are each 24 x 24. I've several more of these panels and I'd like to do at least six - preferably twelve - more of these to exhibit together.

I'd been working on the next Black Bird/ Wind paintings and thought that's what I'd be doing all this week. Ah, but painting mood changes sometimes to reflect events in life. Most of the time I love my rural solitude, but sometimes I wish I had better neighbors. After a verbal altercation with one of a family of bullies, I went from a fowl mood to a foul mood. I sat down to paint under a cloud of piss-ed-ness - and this is what appeared on my panel... Sometimes I'm really easy to figure out.

I like the first painting above most. It's fluidity of brushwork is closer to the wild, uncontrollable feeling I wish to portray. But there is something I like about the contained ferocity of the second one, too.

There is a fierce beauty in a storm, just as there is in life.

More finished, nearly done, almost...

Today I worked on "The Guest" (which is what I've titled the large Everglades painting) all day at my make-up day at the Heritage Center. It was interesting to go there on a different day from my regular Wednesday gig as there's a completely different group of artists on Mondays - all clay artists - who nevertheless had a field day giving me good-natured advice and opinions as to how I should finish. As it was a holiday for most, we had quite a few visitors, too, so rest assured I've had plenty of feedback. I enjoyed the repartee - and of course took it all in - but went on in my own way.

And last night after posting the drawing and photo of the newest Bird/Wind painting, I made several changes and here is the final version of Early Warning. The bill of the blackbird was too close to the far wing, and I made several color adjustments in the clouds. It looks " finished" to me now - and closer in spirit and energy to the original drawing.

I don't have time to be sick!

I'm finally feeling almost myself. Geez, that was a terrible virus. I think it was actually two different bugs fighting over who would have my head!
Here's what I've been doing when I could get up a bit of energy and enthusiasm...
My continuing fascination is not just those birds but tornadoes/cyclones/thunderstorms, the amazing clouds formations therein, and the fury and drama they create upon this planet. In a continuation of my Black Bird/Wind themes, I spent one wretched evening working on the drawing below when I was too ill to paint. Last night and tonight I worked on the painting (above) and I think it's finished though I'll have to look upon it with fresh eyes in the daylight tomorrow before I can be sure.




















A couple of weeks ago, I posted a detail of a painting in progress, promising to post the entire painting. Here it is - still in progress, but much further along. The sky and background are nearly finished as is the water. I'm going for a swampy Everglades sort of waterway; the kind that are navigated by those fan or wind-propelled boats. I've still much refining to do on the three white birds, the crowned crane and the foreground foliage. My camera has exaggerated the colors, the actual background being more subdued.




















I've not been the sort who plans out paintings; often not doing any studies beforehand; preferring to draw images or shapes directly onto the surface with paint. But for this painting, I actually did a small mock-up as the composition is deceptively simple and yet not at all classical. I knew I was going to paint it rather large
(it's 30x 35) and I wanted to be certain to get the proportions right - right being what was half-formed in my head before I started.
I'm working to capture a mood and to tell a little tale. Don't we all of us look askance upon an interloper - a stranger garbed in finery greater than our own?

I hope to finish this one tomorrow during my "make up day" volunteering at the gallery. Being sick for two weeks really put me behind.


And just for fun, look what sprang out at me from the thrift store: A bobble crow! Nothing sinister about this fellow. He's made of painted stuffed cloth, an old bedspring, and a block of wood painted with the pithy saying: A wise crow reaps what you sow... and images of corn and watermelon. I didn't know crows had a fondness for watermelon?

I had to have him. Pensive fellow, isn't he?