My Friends,
Outside the window buildings twirl into the clouds
Inside are wisps of twisted thought
Up in the skies are throbbing raptor hearts
Inside are thumps of programmed expectancy
Westward are sands that time cannot shift
Inside – the tap, tap, tap of an egg timer
Under the waters coral architects sculpt
Inside are teardrops falling down a drain
Outside the window the world plays against the glass
Inside the sun stops reaching
May you dream while awake…
My Friends,
We lived as kings
none as fierce
We unleashed massive power
taking what we needed
Impenetrable as we were
we did not understand
our inability to punch through
the black clouds
We lived as kings…
Thank you. May you dream of blue skies and rainbows.
T’rex Battle created in the 1990’s using Adobe Illustrator and a mouse.
My Friends,
Every year I call my youngest brother who was born on Lincoln’s birthday. I ask if he’s had his birthday cake. Each year on February 12, I think about Mr. Lincoln too. I often (more than I care to admit) pretend I’m part of the crowd in Sangamon County back in 1832 when a tall, awkward man delivered his first public speech. I wish Mr. Lincoln and I could have shared a slice of birthday cake.
“…But if the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrined.”
Your friend and fellow citizen – A. Lincoln.
March 9, 1832
Thank you. May you dream of tall men wearing tall hats speaking of grand possibilities.
I created the computer portrait above using Adobe Illustrator and a mouse. At the time, Prentice Hall hadn’t purchased stylus pens or tablets. And as I mentioned in my previous post, I was learning enough with Adobe to be dangerous. This was done many years ago.
My Friends,
The giant husband’s father was a house painter by trade. Pops was old-school. Everything had to be perfect and not a drop of Behr’s ever spilled. When it comes to painting the walls in our home, the giant husband expects no less. He’s a perfectionist. I’m not allowed to paint interior walls solid colors. I can’t paint neatly. Though, the giant husband doesn’t mind when I use more than one color. 🙂
The carousel (with Spirit the Horse) I painted in the delicate daughter’s room and the Jungle Babies mural I painted in our nursery. I painted the remaining murals in other homes. Sorry about the image quality.
Pops’ paintbrush hangs in a special place in my studio. It reminds me of how painting can bring happiness into ones life and home.
Thank you. May you dream of being surrounded by beautiful color…
My Friends,
The legend of Wampus Cat speaks of a Native American woman of breathtaking beauty who possessed a passion for knowledge. A passion that would ultimately bind her in fur and claw.
Wampus Cat
Daring to learn the sacred stories of magic, she stole under the cloak of night and mountain cat-hide to eavesdrop on tribal elders. Medicine Man sensed something amiss and she was soon discovered. As punishment, Medicine Man transformed her. With one stroke of his mighty hand, her body absorbed the mountain-cat hide she wore. She morphed into a wicked creature destined to roam the woods and hills forever alone. She never acquired the knowledge she so desperately desired. She was educated in rage. Her mind knew what she’d become. Forever…
So if you venture into the forest deep, and should you hear the crack of wood or the soft patter of a two-hundred pound cat woman, you best run. There is no smooth-talking Wampus Cat – you’ll only piss her off.
Thank you. May you cuddle with sweet kittens and pampered pooches. And hopefully, Wampus Cat stays in the forest.
Wampus Cat sketched today while beautiful snow was falling. This sketch is unfinished. She needs work and I’m unsure about the tail – could look unnecessarily ‘phalic’ (might be a bad thing for an agitated woman). Final render will cover Wampus in black fur and white teeth 🙂
My Friends,
Life is short
Throw jellybeans at a giant
Challenge a lion to a dueling roar
Whisper into the wind’s ear
Sail the ocean aboard a paper boat
Howl at the moon during sunrise
Life is short
Live it long…
Thank you. Dream until you fall asleep
Kitchen bulletin board and studio table photographed 7 pm tonight. My kiddies photo taken twelve years ago.
My Friends,
This blog of mine has been through several iterations. While returning from a self-hosted site back to WordPress, many older posts were lost in translation. I’m going to use Sunday evenings to rework, repair and repost some of my favorite 2014 efforts. I hope you don’t mind blogging down Memory Lane with me. If you haven’t read before, I hope you enjoy.
Thank you,
The ‘Annagement’ (sorry couldn’t resist)
Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us
(originally posted 4/15/14)
Returning home from a lovely garden journey, the giant husband and I happened upon an old-timer’s flea market. A pair of cigarette-smoking, timeworn vendors stood outside like cement lions. They wore pensive smiles while observing curious browsers.
The market’s outdoor portion consisted of a few makeshift tables loaded with lopsided frames, 1950’s tools, hat boxes… The indoor portion was housed in a dilapidated and dank-smelling barn that had seen better days. The giant husband and I strapped on our big-boy coveralls and entered the jittery building.
Beside the usual flea market fare of old records, fringed lamps, mildewed books, chipped dinnerware and broken Tonka toys there were boxes of dead dolls. I can’t think of anything more blood-curdling than little plastic people. Dolls used to scare the crap out of me when I was a kid, now they were back to haunt me.
These dolls were broken-hearted. Their tiny scratched lips whispered how long they’d lived without a warm embrace.
They’d been abandoned then forgotten…
The dolls choked on satin visages of yesteryear. Long ago, they’d been precious…
Eyes once marble-bright were now marred dull like the fabric tears of stuffed clowns…
The giant husband and I had to look away from the pained grimaces.
But the most frightening thing of all was when a little sinister man-doll attempted to steal the giant husband’s soul…
Thank you. May you dream of happy dolls in warm homes.
All photos taken in April 2014 with iPhone. I’ve made it a personal goal to attempt art for every post, some earlier posts in 2014 have only photos.
My Friends,
Big I’s
I wish I had miles of long hair to toss out a tower window.
I wish I knew my children when I was a kid.
I wish I kept the little black motorcycle I never stayed upright on.
I wish I had a spotted cow in my backyard.
I wish I could wear a silver ball gown and waltz.
I wish stars were close enough to taste.
I wish I felt this young when I was.
I wish beds were made of clouds.
I wish I could share all my thoughts.
I wish I could wear night as a pair of mismatched socks.
I wish the sun set on my shoulder.
I wish words were made of water.
I wish dreams fit inside my secret decoder ring.
I wish I had a secret decoder ring.
And yes, my post title was inspired by the movie, Big Eyes which sadly I haven’t ‘scene’ yet, but hope to soon! In homage to Margaret Keane and her lovely Big Eyed Waifs, I’ve done a quick sketch of a modern Big Eyes. There is only one Margaret Keane. I am an imitator here, though I really did own a pair of earrings like the one(s) shown. Back in the 1990’s, a coworker quipped, “…waiting for the dog that’s gonna jump through those things!”
Thank you. May you dream wishes into your coffee…
Face Feature Mix done for studio class way back in, hum, I think 1983. Big Eyes Homage done quickly while wishing…
My Friends,
I woke up this morning and a Green Man was in my head. I think he hails from a distant house in a far off neighborhood. He wears a crown of flattened, blue celery to frighten would be produce buyers. A ring of cheap gold – his pet – accompanies him whenever he strolls down the street seeking out those who dare to don a better crown than he…
Sometimes you just have to let the Green Man out.
Thank you. May you dream of men in the vegetables of your choice.
Green Man created yesterday, I’m still trying to figure out why he was in my head and so is the giant husband 😉
My Friends,
Give yourself the freedom to imagine. Open your mind and hear the gracious wisdom of a tree. Spend a precious moment. History is gently preserved within its wooden clock rings. Deep-etched lines of warm bark, give rise to fantastical images.
Rooted in a tree’s very heart are magnificent stories there for the listening. Magic is all around. So I must ask my friends, “When is the last time you talked to a tree?”
Thank you. May you dream of having a tree party with friends.
Tree faces created yesterday while listening to the giant husband and big son’s football ruckus 🙂 Tree Root photo taken this past summer at a Newport, Rhode Island mansion. I thought the root looked like a slumbering child.
anntogether 