#1404 “Stretch” 7.5×5.5 watercolor collage in mat to 9×7. $45
“Stretch” is reminiscent of a painting I did in the early days where the tree reaches into the sun. This one though has a poem – a haiku – written for it and into it:
Stretch into the light
My leaves are needing the sun
Food comes from the sky.
A few years ago I was introduced to the Glass Outhouse Gallery in Wonder Valley – just east of 29 Palms. It is in the middle of nowhere, even more than I am, and has a small gallery where Laurel and Howard hold month-long 2-artist shows, and a sculpture garden made of recycled material art, created by Howard.
Four skies in the Glass Outhouse Gallery
I had a show there a few years ago with my Mixed Media work and am scheduled to have another show there with that medium in January 2021. Yes, artists do plan ahead.
The cart shows that this is a hanging day.
As I have another body of work and enough Mixed Media to run two shows concurrently, I’m on their ‘waitlist’. A list of artists who, in an emergency can put together a show in a couple days. Last week I got the call.
The outgoing artist hadn’t picked up her work yet.
I had planned to take my oils and acrylics to the show in Monrovia this weekend, but with a quick call I managed to get that changed and this body of work was available for the month.
Nice little row, the last 4 ‘diamonds’
My fellow artist is Tami Wood. We both joked that our names are two four-letter words. Her work is made exclusively of recycled materials. We’ve called our show ‘Fleeting Passions’ because we both explore ephemeral aspects of our environment.
And room for the bin, that holds paintings I did in or for paint and wine evenings that I’ve taught.
After the show in Newport I brought everything up and hung the show. Howard will pin up the prices later.
I’m surprised the one on the left hadn’t sold at Newport, it had a lot of interest.
Because of existing commitments (Monrovia), I can’t be at the reception but Tami will handle that and I’ll do my share of gallery sitting during the month.
The painting on the right is one from my house – I’m down to the last few oils and acrylics and am selling at discount prices!
What I didn’t realize until I told another friend in 29 Palms about the late arrangement, I’d scored a show during the Highway 62 Art Tour – three of the four weekends in October, and the Glass Outhouse Gallery is one of the stops. Wow, I’m sure glad I decided to go for it!
Almost exactly the right amount of space, there was only one suitable painting I didn’t put up!
I feel bless that because of various issues outside of my scope, I now have a show with both bodies of work on the Highway 62 tour – I have Mixed Media work at the High Desert Medical Center!
A recent sale at Palo Alto subsequently got back to me as a pic of the painting in its forever home. This one might not look as interesting as you would think it could be, but I knew before the new owners took it home, it was going in the guest bathroom, so most of the surrounds are omitted for aesthetic reasons.
“I thought this would be” has the following lines written for it and painted into the horizon areas: I thought this would be the view I’d live and die with but the sea recedes.
This was inspired by my ex’s doormat, which said ‘Welcome Fishermen and other Liars’.
Fishermen
They say that fishermen will lie a lot.
They’ve time to make up many a fishing tale,
sitting by lake or stream, all day they’ve got
to turn that fingerling catch into a virtual whale.
And when they come home with a two-pound trout,
the only the only worthy product of the day
they’ll think next time the wife won’t let them out.
“You should’ve seen the one that got away!
a five-pound beast, it nearly broke my pole,
my buddy saw how hard it fought the line,
it nearly pulled us both out of the boat,
an eagle swooped and snagged it just in time.
Someone will help with just how to begin
so get out there and fish and reel ’em in!
If there’s a challenge for a sonnet, it’s when the power goes out and it’s soooooo quiet.
Silence
Silence can be the loudest sound of all –
the emptiness between the beats of heart,
the absence of now-frozen water’s fall
from rock to pool, in winter. When we start
and fail to stop and listen to each sound
that tells us so much if we just know how
to hear it. The when quiet comes around
we simply can breathe out, breathe in the now,
the peace, the solitude, the soundless bath
of spirit washing over a rattled mind
and so, refreshed turn back to our own path
with spaces between the stars still left to find.
Dark windless nights aspire to extol
the virtue of the silence of the soul.
It’s been a while since I posted a ‘newer work’. Here’s one from a recent batch of smaller mixed media pieces.
“1391 Inexplicable”. 14×11″ on gallery wrap panel. Embedded poem is: Inexplicable – air, water, angle of light – fill our souls with joy.
I haven’t posted a sonnet in a while. I was going to post one about hot flashes (seeing as I’ve been enjoying to the extent that I need to start laughing about it) but Andrew Eales’ post this morning reminded me about this sonnet:
Birdsong
It’s in man’s heart, because it’s in his head
to merge both words and music into song.
There’re places in our brains they both belong
together – feelings more than just what’s said.
But too, we wonder how that seed was sown
that made us lilt our words into a tune.
Was it the wolves a-howling at the moon
or cat’s meow, or buck’s loud rutting groan?
It’s much more likely that the sound above
that we sometimes call angels, were the trills
inspiring us to develop singing skills
to tell our stories, feelings, sadness, love.
Whatever was that singing that we heard
outside our souls? It was a little bird.
