Let there be darkness.


“Moon on Water”, 10×8″ acrylic on loose canvas.

A few years ago one set of my neighbors had an attempted burglary during the daytime.  Happily this was only an attempt, but it resulted in them installing The Security Floodlight.  Other neighbors and I liked to refer to it as the Third Celestial Body, it being brighter than all but the fullest of moons.

Now, these neighbors have moved and The Light has gone too.  Stars have been reinstalled and we’re looking forward to being able to see the meteor showers next week.

Desert Sky Wreath

“Desert Sky Wreath”.

While cutting branches from my mesquite the other week, I was thinking about how I had forgotten to go to Michael’s and bought items from which to construct a wreath for the Boys and Girls club wreath fundraiser. I wanted to make something locally inspired, and with another couple of ideas-in-the-idea-stage in mind came up with a mesquite wood wreath sporting 12 mini sky paintings in dome-shaped skies.  I created the ‘cups’ with a plaster-cloth product formed around a locally found sandstone concretion that is pear-shaped.  Each sky is from a different month – or thereabouts, some of the winter mornings could be anytime in the winter, and some of the summer skies are painted from memory rather than from a photograph

Yes, I know, it’s not your average wreath, but then I aspire to not be the average artist.  Sometimes it’s not what you can paint, it’s what you can conceive of.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Under the rainbow.

Big fat rainbow…

This morning I noticed that there was a beautiful fat rainbow just to the west of the house – and later I was delighted to hear the patter of raindrops on the roof.  Haven’t had that experience since the end of July!  It was just a very brief shower – I’m sure it was quite localized as I could see sun shining all around.

My own personal cloud or, perhaps for a few minutes there, the rainbows end came across my house…

The play of light

“Dawn over Heather” – watercolor collage on board, 21″x34″, $890.

One of the things I love about living in my house is the way that the light plays in and out of various windows at different times of the day and year.  At summer solstice, it comes into the studio window at dawn and reaches south-west wall.  This morning  while putting a glaze on ‘Dawn over Heather’, I was avoiding a small shaft of light in my eyes – the sun only produced a 10 inch wide patch of light on the north-west wall – I’m not sure if it was a rhomboid or a trapezium, geometry was so long ago.

I love the silences (unusual concept for someone whose address ends in ‘City’) and the delicate noises.  I feel so in touch with the environment when the wind rattles twigs from the eucalyptus across the roof and I love the patter of raindrops – which are also so precious here and usually means beautiful clouds I can paint later.

Perhaps it is because  here so long – eight years is not long in the span of a lifetime, but it is the longest I’ve lived anywhere in my adult life – enough time to notice the change of seasons. Time enough to find a sense of place, a melding of light and land, sound and silence, through time and it’s seepage into my soul.