Art

Things I can’t Control

/ Picking My Battles

Dust Devils, 9×12, Watercolor

These are dust devils in eastern Washington. They rise up from the dusty Palouse and wheat fields especially after the wheat has just been harvested.
I love them because they are proof that, even though, on the surface, the land has been thoroughly tamed by humans, there are some things we can’t control.

Each time I see them they inspire awe. Also, the recognition of dust bunnies … I mean Devils … as something that can’t be controlled is a great metaphor for the way I keep my house.

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Highway to Eyjafjallajökull

/ Picking My Battles

 

The highway to the volcano Hekkla,  once known as the gateway to hell, was closed when we were in Iceland in the fall, as an increase in seismic activity had the geologists concerned that the eruption which had been overdue should be upgraded to status imminent.

We didn’t get to see any eruptions, but we did get a look at Hekkla’s sister, Eyjafjallajökull, which had been slightly hellish just a few years ago. From where we stood, however, the road to hell was gorgeous.

I found myself painting this a few times in my watercolor journal and again when I got home, and the results were always similar. The paintings were never faithful copied of my photographs but, rather interpretations of the vivid beauty and vastness of land that had been ravaged but then recovered.

I kept coming back to that theme of land and people recovering and digging out from the ashes, stronger than before. I go back to it even now, months later, and it helps me to temper my fears.

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Moonlight in Vermont

/ Picking My Battles

So my 16 and 10-year-old would be ashamed to admit it, but their pudgy middle-age mom dances when she paints landscapes. The more abstract the pic and wild the beat of the music, the more energetic and embarrassing –for the kids anyway — the dancing. My dancing is so bad that the only time I can really get away with it is in the middle of the night, which is how this painting happened.

WItching hour has become the painting hour for me. When there’s a full moon, it’s bark at the moon time for the dog. That’s how I ended up outside in the yard, keeping the dog on a leash and getting off of mine.

It’s a crystal clear night, and there are a large patches of muddy grass. There’s still a bit of snow, however. I waited for the dog to do her business without waking up the neighborhood, and was forced to take the time to really look at A moonlit winters night for the first time in a long time.

Seeing the variations in color different reflections made me realize how much depth there is to the night, and I started thinking of late night drives through the rolling countryside in Vermont and Washington county in New York State. The dog caught the scent of something, and I let her sniff at the end of the leash for a few minutes why drink in scenery.

And that’s how I ended up dancing in studio under the moonlight at 1 AM this morning. I highly recommend it.

Chasing Frogs

/ Picking My Battles

It’s just barely past witching hour, and I’ve been chasing on paper one of those Lake Michigan days when it’s too rough to swim past your knees and too wild to stay cooped up inside away from the beach.

This is my favorite so far, but I’m still not sure if it’s a frog or a prince. But there’s a few hours before the sun come up, so I still have time to kiss a few more toads. And the hunt is a satisfying as the catch.

Between Worlds

/ Picking My Battles

 

Land of Imagination, 12 x 16, Watercolor, $75

I’m getting paintings together for an exhibition at the Spiral Press Cafe in Manchester, Vermont, and, I’ll be honest, I was having trouble getting into the mood to paint landscapes.  The glow of Iceland has receded — a symptom of having read too many political posts in the intervening months, and the Vermont landscape isn’t turning me on the same way it normally does at this time of year. 

Wrapped up in finishing and publishing my first illustrated book, I was much more hungry to get to work on the illustrations for the next one. That’s when my favorite Élly — Élly’s the star of my next book, The Truth about Trolls, tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that she needs at least one place to live in during the course of her story, and would I mind getting inspired so she can have some place magical to look at? 

So I looked at my car window and found some magic yesterday. Then I remembered some magic we’d seen in Iceland and in Michigan.  Now it seems I’m seeing magic everywhere.

Trolls are surprisingly logical.

Prints can be purchased on Etsy here.

Winter Roads

/ Picking My Battles

 

Winter Roads, 12×16 Watercolor

I’m getting paintings together for a winter show at the Spiral Press cafe in Manchester, VT and have been struggling to find a cohesive theme. But shorter days and cocooning are helping me find it.

You’d think the snow-covered mountains would provide obvious inspiration, but I’m an odd duck and it’s the mud and bare trees that get my brush going. There’s something inspirational in the cocooning too – not explosive like geysers and volcanos but soothing.  Right now, soothing is just what is needed.

Just Keep Moving

/ Picking My Battles

imageLast night,  knowing it would not change the outcome, I swore I wouldn’t spend the evening refreshing the election pages.

I have not written about politics on this blog much because I believe internet politics divide, and I want my creative work to be a force for good. Web pages may be good soapboxes, but I’m of the firm belief that honest connection – political and emotional – is more likely found over a cup of tea, preferably accompanied by some kind of pastry. 

Both campaigns have done everything possible to degrade our sense of community.  But while I was unhappy with the results on a personal level, there are many people in my family – close and extended – who are scared.  They are scared to tell people, their last name when they book a hotel because they will seem less American than a Smith or Jones and not be able to get a room.  They are afraid that their family unit may be at risk because it looks different from the one on Father knows Best, and I know whatever fears I am be experiencing pale in comparison to those that others are experiencing.  

My art will never be in a museum, but it will always be about the common values of love and connection that we all need, regardless of the color of our skin or religion or orientation.  It is my way to reach out to those in fear this afternoon, rather than – as I am tempted to do – withdraw.  Today, like last night, the best coping strategy is to keep moving forward.

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