Monthly Mailing May

Here’s my monthly mailing newsletter – reaching out to everyone with whom I cannot reach out face to face.

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Mooning around

I never could see the man in the moon, except when the Apollo program was running.  And yes, I’m old enough to remember it – but also young enough to have wished that I’d been ten years older to better appreciate it.

I always saw the rabbit in the moon. So, I decided to paint it, seeing as I had an aging bucket of gesso and some craft paints that needed to be used or lost.  I thought it would be good to get this done while it was still cool enough to paint outside, and I just got finished in time.  The sad part is that whether or not anyone is happy with it, it’s now going to be too hot to paint outside in the light, so Salton City is stuck with this one until October.

mural of moon on garage wall

The Rabbit in the moon.

Tales from the field #8

Sometimes life happens to people.  I’ve not ever had to bail on a show at the last minute, thank goodness, but last weekend, my neighbor did.  I don’t know who it was and there was no message to the organizers, but by 9am on the Friday, it was clear that the space next to me was going to remain a space, and I had an extra wall.  Blissfully I’d bought a couple spare paintings, and spread things around, and made the best use of it.

Skyscapes for the Soul Booth at Tempe Art festival

If I’d known it, I would’ve set up differently, though.

The irony was that I had thought, based on the booth map, that I was getting a corner booth.  I was, but just not the way I thought.

Sonnet Challenge #19

chalking on curb

Lost and found!

At the chalking festival, I had a lot of spare time on Sunday, sitting next to my creation and talking to people.  Across the street from me a couple of youngsters drew the above in the gutter and against the curb.  Inspiration indeed!

Draw your lost things.

Draw your lost things, there upon the street:

Your heart, your head, your homework, or the key.

A part of life suddenly incomplete.

Oh things! you think, oh please come back to me!

You rack your brain for where they’re left behind,

the cafe or the office or the car.

You look and look and still you cannot find

but that they’re not the same place that you are.

You turn over a glass, a wish to make,

but still your precious things eludes your grasp.

Were they stolen?  Did they evaporate?

You cannot think of who else you could ask.

Your lost things’ minds might try to draw you too,

thus wishing might just draw them back to you.

 

Indio Chalk Festival, Day 3.

I awoke to a cloudy sky.  There had been a forecast of possible overnight rain, and I had put a tarp over my painting, though it was not big enough and I could only tarp about 60% of the finished part.  As I was starting to get ready to leave, it started to rain.  There wasn’t any time in which to hurry any faster.  It rained a little as I drove the 40 miles to Indio.  When I got there, Mamun (the city planner) was walking out to the parking lot.  He said to me ‘It rained hard here overnight, it’s a disaster, it’s all gone.’  $%&#$%^. Then he confessed he was joking.  $%&#$%^, Mamun!

We did have some sprinkles during the day, much of the morning I had most of my work tarped, even under the canopy.  It cleared up in the afternoon, though there is still a forecast of rain overnight.    Here’s the progress.

Indio Chalk Festival

Some clouds and a bit of space going in.

Indio Chalk Festival

All the sky is done now.

Indio Chalk Festival

Here come the clouds – in more ways than one.

Indio Chalk Festival

I’m hiding it from the rain here, some is blowing in under the canopy.

Indio Chalk Festival

Space is finished, now to add space objects.

Indio Chalk Festival

All done except for those cracks I found I can fill with chalk easily

Indio Chalk Festival

Some of the crowds, some of the clouds. It actually got a lot** busier than this, but I was busy at that time.

Indio Chalk Festival

Totally finished. “The artist as part of the environment”. 8’x8′, chalk on blacktop.

Let’s go check out some of the competition.

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 1

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 2

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 3

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 4

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 5

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 6

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 7

Indio Chalk Festival

Competitor 8

Judging is at noon tomorrow, but we have to be done by 10am.

 

Poetry about my paintings.

Although I write poetry for my own paintings and have written poetry for the artwork of others, I had a first last month when one of the attendees at the reception at my joint show in the Glass Outhouse Gallery wrote a poem for one of my paintings.  George Howell wrote the following poem for my painting ‘Dark Mist Arising‘:

Smoke Tree

For Jeni Bate

Our eyes align

Along the horizon,

Prisoners of our feet,

Firmly anchored to the earth.

 

And the sky is a sigh

Of promise and release,

The free range of cloud

And soul.

 

You cut the skyscape

Into a stack of cards,

And rearranged the clouds

Mixed media skyscape painting

“Dark Mist Arising”. Mixed Media on panel 48×24″.

So much science in art

My beginning students learn that there is a lot of science in art.  This is an old article but I kept it to reblog:  A neuroscientist working in an art museum.  I was prompted to blog it today after having a conversation yesterday with a lady who had just completed her masters in psychology and was hoping to consult in the corporate world, rather than enter private medical practice, and to incorporate art into her work.  Maybe we’ll work together on something…..