Magic Moments-in R-verse

Can I write my Muse a poem?

 

 

Pen picks up as paint brush falls

Can I write my Muse a poem?

Reaching out ‘cross time he calls

On plaintive cry of circling gulls

Beyond wave on wave of foam

Stranded there so far from home

 

The home that I would wish were ours

A place secure in peacefulness

Serene and dark beneath the stars

Where less is more and more is less

A place where I could set my head to rest

In love and contemplation on his chest.

 

Then mind and body melting into one

That steady beat would drown all sound

Till our two hearts leap welcome to the sun

  The center of our universe is found

 With darkness gone, a New Day starts

While we content, embrace our arts

 

 In joy the paintbrush dances bright with fun

And colors pulse and move and run

 

angel in the dust

PS i lack the focus required to paint the peach and cherry the way i would like to. Luckily I’m about to head off to a concert and that should divert my mind. Hurray for music-especially live music.

Magic Moments-without expectation

Grant me the serenity

To accept that which I can not change

The courage to change those things I can

And the wisdom to know the difference

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Although landscape painting seems beyond me just now I have been able to do a little figure drawing and it has kept me sane. Here are a few done in watercolor on Bristol  vellum set vertically on the easel which makes it all rather challenging but fun.IMG_3423 (1024x768).jpg

There is that important idea “fun”, a reason to smile, something to reach for. As i work at figures in watercolor i find myself seeing more and more in blocks or areas of tone and value. Edges and lines become less important to understanding the form. It’s rather exciting.

IMG_3421 (1024x768).jpgOf course, sometimes certain details of the model freak me out and i resort to line big time. and sometimes line just seems best-IMG_3424 (1024x768)This one might just get a watercolor wash- nothing more.

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Life throws us curved balls sometimes, fly balls lost in the glare of the sun or balls so fast they slam into us with devastating impact but whatever happens we still have to find and touch base. I am grateful for the practice of meditation through yoga that a good friend once introduced me to.

And, I am grateful for the ongoing support of the wonderful artists I’ve met through this blog (and before) who keep coming up with encouraging ideas and experiences of their own to share. Thank you. You are fun to know.

Angel standing by

yh

Magic Moments-a grey morning

A rather dark one for me but a cool invigorating one for the ephemeral spring flowers.

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Although I have been sketching in watercolors my painting is neither free nor precise. Instead it is –well embarrassing. However, I can show you some of what I have been privileged to be a part of as the weather has cooled down and given us a little much needed rain.IMG_3324 (768x1024)

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The leaves are soft now but the torrential rain we got diverted the stream down the path so the going gets a bit tough as one goes higher up the hillside

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These snap shots are from that special hillside I mentioned in a previous post and are all taken within a few steps of “my” Throne. The forest floor is carpeted with spring beauties and trout lilies as far as one can see.

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These are stitched down with red trillium (wake robin), golden stem-less violet, Dutchman’s breeches, and many other little ephemeral s-too many to name here. One might feel they have IMG_3366 (1024x768)stepped into the hunt for the unicorn tapestry.

IMG_3330 (768x1024)     IMG_3370                      Angel in the dust

 

Magic Moments-looking up

the Red maples are in bloom everywhere turning the hillsides into layered clouds of silver and pink. My friend said stop and sketch from here and so i did.

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Stillman & Birn sketchbook 51/2×81/2

I should have used Alizarin Crimson instead of my old stand-by Vermillion. I don’t think i’d really woken up yet or connected with what i was seeing. i did switch to Cobalt and Aureolin at least. The truth is that when one looks at the flowers up close they really are close to vermillion only distance adds the blue.

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same Stillman & Birn sketchbook, Tombow pen and colored pencil

thought for the day:

“…The circle of love is deep and strong. It can forgive mistakes and cast out error. It can foster greatness and bring forth new life.

…This is our function in each other’s lives: to hold the space for each other’s beauty, that our beloved can leave us and we still feel in his (or her) absence how beautiful we are.”

Marianne Williamson from A Woman’s World

 

And a painting in words just for you-

 a  New Day

 

Shards of silver break like glass

Slender black and bending boughs

Spring free of snow and icy mass.

Held down, imprisoned up ‘till now

They shake; stretch out, to greet the sun

Raining brilliants down upon a day begun…

 

Slowly Summer claims her own

Dense drifts melt back to sparkling rill

Ephemeral flowers crown her throne

Dark pools sustain a peeper’s trill

A thrush sings softly in the wood

Two ferns emerge where once

 

We stood

Angel in the dust

yh

Magic Moments-maybe Ephemeral

A Promise of spring?

Or a desperate race to survive?IMG_3263 (1024x648).jpgThe leaves blanketing the path rustled and crunched as I climbed along the hillside under a hot dry sky. Trees and bushes anxiously pushed their buds to open or stood still and silent panting in the searing heat of an 80 degree day, unusual for mid April.

In spite of flood warnings two days ago due to torrential rain, North West Connecticut is till officially in a severe drought and the Fire danger is listed as high. Climbing higher I left the vernal pools with their frantic chorus of peepers, chiming frogs, and clacking wood frogs to finally fill my water containers at a cascade of water pouring over and under the rocks. The clear cool water seemed in such a great hurry to leave the dry steep hillside. This hillside is unique in New England in having over 80 different ephemeral spring flowers along one short half mile of trail. The micro climate produced by a North East facing hillside forested in mixed hardwoods and hemlock and covered in shattered glacial rock with seasonal and intermittent streams has made a perfect home for these spring flowers. Only now with the hemlock dying out due to the adelgid infestations and poor snow cover with drought the ephemeral flowers seem to be struggling.

I found my favorite clump of round leaf hepatica and sat in the path to paint. The hot dry wind dried my watercolor wash before I even got it down. Tiny soft petals came out with hard edges and spots of dried paint. It was hard to paint freely or maintain any feel of freshness. The colors on my pallet skinned over and grew hard. I moved; tried some spring beauties and trout lilies (not blooming yet) added wake robins bursting upwards to unfurl their leafs and a froth of corn flower or Dutchman’s breeches. The woods were empty hot and silent. Even the birds had sought a cooler place. But one army of animals found me: ticks. When one crawled across my pallett I called it quits and headed home.

Singing the praises of having a deep well and a lovely new shower I took advantage of both head to toe. Tomorrow I’ll venture forth again. After all I loved being in the quiet woods ticks or no ticks. Perhaps shady brook will be a little kinder and my painting made easier.

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Angel in the dust

Holly

quasI

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen “Beleaguered” Servant) often gets too close to my truth, opening a window on my own life. This is the mark of a good poet. i painted to three of his poems for our show, WORD-ART, an exhibit combining poetry with painting. I encourage you to check out his site, No Talent for Certainty on Word Press.

Consolation's Many Forms

“quasI”

(I’m doing the a to z challenge this year using the last letter of the word rather than the first because letter order is an arbitrary social convention not grounded in ontological reality. And because I’m capricious. – S.B.)


Do you still dream of who you thought you’d be?

Or is to quasi-be, indeed enough –

Do you still feel the first time that you felt?

Or have the nerves been worn away with rough –

For smooth were once the edges of your hopes,

And pure was once the life you thought ideal;

The minutes slip away into the void,

And soon you feel you can no longer feel —

There was a time that touch was everything.

The world you’d touch, the one who would touch you;

The little touches in the art you’d make

And how you’d keep the best up close, and true —

The…

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Magic Moments-only don’t blink

Stay aware.

Listen to the frog chorus. Watch the red wing fan his tail and tilt sideways when he sings while the grackle stretches straight forward and lifts both wings and tail. The tree swallows swirl like mini fighter pilots and the buffle head ducks dip and disappear slick as submarines. Above the dirt road the first Mourning cloaks emerge to float softly in the warm April sun. But If You So Much As Dare To Speak…

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day.
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud come over the sunlit arch,
And wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.
Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time, 1926                      re-blogged from Hanna’s walk

                                                                                                                 April 2017 | Hanna

(There in Denmark the cherry trees are already out. It will be awhile before that happens here. Next week  we could get a snowstorm. It’s happened before.)

But today was so warm i sketched outside at the Hurley building in short sleeves.

( see blog post  https://litchfieldhillspleinairsketchersandpainters.wordpress.com)

This morning i also sketched and yesterday after church as well. I think that that painting is still in the car so here are a few photos from my Sunday walk. Can you guess where they were taken? Tomorrow JL and i will go up Shady Brook. Even with the drought our corner of the world is full of running water and bird song.

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blueberries in bud.

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This one begs to be painted.

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A soft spot to sit? And i did and sketched the boardwalk and beaver dam beyond. -A nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Till later then

yaitd holly

Magic Moments-

For you, with love.IMG_3184 (1024x766).jpg

White pines bending and shimmering in the late April light atop our windy hill.

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practicing with the Tombow

And looking closely at the terminal buds and drawing with graphite.

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How many greys can you get? This is fun!

Cold press creates a shimmer but IMG_3191 (768x1024)

it’s tricky to get the right amount of water.

The Artist Within – Hope, Encouragement, Freedom… we need some word of hope, of encouragement from someone to get us started on our journeys.

A big thank you to Jane, to Debi, to Anne, to Prashant, to Carsten, Carol, Margaret, Karen, Sharie, Tim…Did i forget someone ?-YOU!

Holly

(Angel in the dust)

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Love you.