Jasper the Mad Jester & Universal Clown makes sculpt no. 8 for me. What a clay quest I’ve been on – each character brings their own set of unique challenges. Learning as I go – each trip takes my mind away from the real world. Jasper is 12″ tall from boot to tip of hat.
Jasper dances and sprinkles stars through many universes. When in our galaxy, he enjoys dangling the moon and placing a gold ‘disco’ boot upon the earth to quietly remind – the joke is on us – as we sometimes think we’re quite grand – we control nothing at all – the universe will always have the upper hand.
I hope you’re managing through this mess we’re in… am:)
This cryptid sculpt is the Loveland Frogman. I created collages of a few cryptid/creature illustrations for the UFO Fair (loads of outrageous fun- JUNE 7th – Pine Bush, NY).
My husband, Keith, requested the Frogman collage (orange bkgd painting shown) to hang over his desk. Now, as I’ve crashed into sculpting, he requested a Frogman sculpt to live as a silent desk-partner. I’m glad he asked for this critter. The Frogman was great fun to make.
Have a wonderful weekendI hope you’re managing through the madness. For those who celebrate the day – Hoppy Easter!
Yesterday’s post highlighted an artwork I painted for my son. The painting – Washington’s Last Cantonment – was created after I’d painted a canvas for his sister.
For the acrylic (above), I used several old reference images – some of the fish – like the large koi – were directly inspired from those images (apologies to the brilliant artists – I’ve been unable to locate their names to properly credit) – a few of the other fish swim in my head – and now – on my daughter’s apartment wall. She’d requested the specific water color…for interior decor ‘matchi-ness’:)
Both paintings are 4′ x 2′ – each a labor of love. As much as I don’t enjoy painting landscapes, water scenes run a close second. I find the most joy in creating cryptids and creatures. I don’t know why or what to think of that. Perhaps, I shouldn’t ponder fangs and claws too deeply. These thoughts might reveal lurking images in the sub-basement brain;)
Looks to be another cold beautiful day here in the Hudson Valley.
Months ago, my son had asked me if I could recreate a painting for him. The particular artwork in question – he’d decided long ago – was his favorite of all time. Since I’d painted a picture of fish for his sister, I told him I’d create art for him too. The painting he wanted had been living as a blurry photo on his phone for quite some time. He’d seen the art – years ago – hanging on the wall of a restaurant.
Neither Max or I were able to locate a decent reference image – my son’s photo was so blurry in fact, I saw nothing but white in the air and dark lumps on the ground. My son’s description from memory was “men on horses and some cabins.” We went as far as returning to the restaurant (under new ownership for several years) and inquiring about the painting that had once hung on their far left wall.
Now I’ll tell you, I don’t like painting landscapes – I never have – meaning – I’ve avoided them my entire life – so my best attempts at recreating any are fake – I muddle my way through in an effort to get something close to the needle of credibility. The painting above is the result – my son – of course – loves it – because his mom made it for him. Any artist looking at this might smile and keep the honest review beneath the tongue.
And, as karma so often intervenes, months after I’d finished the painting, Max and I walked 2 blocks from the house to get coffee. The coffee-bar’s proprietor was a collector of books, art, antiques…and when we showed him the photo of my painting – he immediately knew whose artwork I’d been trying to recreate (in fact – the framed reproduction below was actually in another room of his coffee bar)- dang – was I off.
The Last Cantonment, 1783 – John F. Gould
John Fleming Gould (1906-1996) graduated from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, NY, and later instructed at Pratt for 22 years. He was a prominent illustrator for the Saturday Evening Post for more than 8 years. Many of Mr. Gould’s works hang in private collections. He was partial to historical subjects, especially in the Hudson River Valley from the Statue of Liberty to Albany, NY.
I’ve provided more visual snow for some of you. who don’t really need to see anymore snow. I hope you’re all keeping warm, am:)
I leave my husband, daughter, homeland, and slip away in the dark shroud of night. The orange-red glow of the moon is veiled with clouds, Artemis’ hand already at play in this. My own hand wraps around Paris’ fingers, my heartbeat is the phantom of Menelaus’ footsteps behind me. The ship waits at Gythium, water lapping its sides, gentle like my fingers stroking Hermione’s face.
wind whispers a crow caws Apollo’s triumph
We board the ship, my feet numb like ice. My skin smells of the salt-spray of the sea, the night air, the heavy-wine scent of the watching gods – I know they are there, have known since Paris sent that knife-gaze into my heart. His hand cups my face, the thief coveting his prize. We raise anchor, and sail with the dawn.
the sharp horizon a knife across the sun blood in the water
—Caroline Hron Weigle
This gorgeous poem was written by the lovely Caroline Hron Weigle. Remember her name – she is an up and coming historical romance writer.
I painted the piece above a few years ago. I’d never given much thought to her name before – now she has one.
just stepped up the little stairs to reach his steering wheel. This vehicle is not required for his line of work. My studio, a converted porch, faces his yellow house, his big truck. My home, rising during the Great Depression, has withstood many assaults over time. Her old bones don’t deserve to be rattled.
The sky is bright, the birds are singing, and every morning the man across the street shatters this peaceful illusion. His truck’s reverb frazzles the neighborhood, echoes through my chest. Maybe the man across the street needs the sleepy world agitated at 5:45 AM, maybe tremors make his shadow grow.
If someday he should acknowledge the next phase of life, I pray he doesn’t buy a bigger truck. I don’t want to become another person in this burning world who adds more noise to the hate. I dislike the man across the street. I do not hate him. I will admit, however, to hating his fucking truck.
I painted this a few months ago. Reference taken from a photo of Chris Lee as Dracula. Thought this image was somewhat fitting for this piece:)
I created this wizard to raise funds for a local high school’s Senior Night. I wish I’d taken better pictures of the darn guy before I gave him away. Live and learn! 😘 – thank you
I hope you’re managing through the madness.
!
anntogether 