eyes of magma

new poem, Eyes of Magma, published at HerStory – a purpose-driven creative venue for the unified female voice – love this blog

Eyes of Magma

legs thinner than sipping straws
supporting a body too frail for words
strength and shine
will settle in those eyes of magma
super heated by flecks of brilliance
lit from behind

unknown to the world
one day
she will become a champion of peace

she is on her way now
seek her out in every young woman

Money Whales and Wolverines

My Friends,
This weekend I sketched a gentle humpback whale and an uncooperative wolverine. When uncertain with specific morphology, drawing animals can be challenging. My bathtub is a tad tight for a frolicking whale, and I dare say a feisty wolverine would snack on Mojo the Dachshund. Since I can’t have a play-date with a whale or wolverine, I need to rely on resources. I use my general knowledge to imagine the subject first then roughly sketch out a preferred pose. Next, I research multiple image sources and study them noting specific characteristics. I move on to studio reference books, i.e. Animals in Motion. I use this text to get a sense of bodyweight and movement. Finally, I combine this visual knowledge with a bit of improvisation to render a critter I can call my very own. This is important if one hopes to get published and have no concerns over royalties or copyright issues.
I’d like to introduce you to my newest friends, Henry Humpback and Willard Wolverine born today.
whale:wolverine

Below Henry and Willard’s pencil sketch, is a post from January 2014 – my first month into blogging. It mentions whales. Notice the clever segue 😉
whale and wolverine

Posted January 2014

My daughter is in tenth grade. Today she will peruse college course offerings with an eye toward the future. She’s unsure what she wants to do, or who she wants to be. She’s interested in two things – marine biology and making money. At the tender age of fourteen, whatever she decides will probably change. But as long as she’s filled with cockeyed-optimism, she can keep a positive outlook when if they begin downsizing at her job.

I wonder if there is an employment opportunity out there for rescuing money-spouting whales. 🙂

Thank you. May you and your pet wolverine dream of sitting in a whale’s belly for some quality reading time.

The Truth About My Art

My Friends,
When someone places an artist’s hat upon my head, I often feel unworthy. I’m not glued nightly to a canvas. I’m not angst-ridden at 3 am. I don’t take myself very seriously.

The truth about my art…
There isn’t a prestigious fine art degree, but there is greatly advanced naiveté.
There haven’t been decades of rendering, but there have been years of creative struggle.
There isn’t an artist hiding in my house, but there is one hiding in my brain.
There isn’t a grand studio filled with en plein air studies and sable brushes in old coffee cans.
There is a room off the kitchen built with a hammer and nails,
by a creative husband for his emotional wife.

Self/acrylic

Self/acrylic

I hope this painting (featured once before) keeps my blog’s PG13 rating – as I consider these subjects nude, but not naked 🙂
Thank you. May you dream of wearing many hats and loving them all.

Self is one of my larger acrylic pieces – 4 ft x 4 ft. Painted in 1997 (if memory serves)

Charlie’s Ears

My Friends,
Yesterday’s doll conversations brought back fond memories of a cherished childhood friend. His name was Charlie. He had curled pink fur and bright blue eyes that somehow didn’t seem right, but were. I remember many a dark night when Charlie was my cuddle pal.

I can’t remember why I cut Charlie’s long ears off. They were most likely cropped to better match his eyes. I can’t recall what eventually became of my beloved pink buddy. Maybe he ran away in fear. His little lunatic owner might chop off his balled tail which didn’t look quite right, but was.

Charlie DogIt’s funny how sometimes making new friends can remind us of old lost ones. My blog buddy, Deb has an impossibly adorable dog named Charlie. If you’d like to see precious Charlie along with all his other four-legged house buddies visit C-Dog. Deb is a brilliant wordsmith and a great champion of animals in every conceivable color, even pink. And Fawn of Trigger’s Horse, handles her mom’s cherished doll collection with warmth and pride. Fawn is a volunteer extraordinaire and a multi-talented craftsperson.

Thank you. May you dream of your favorite childhood friend.

Charlie Dog drawn yesterday with misting eyes and markers

Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us

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.
solo dollThey’d been abandoned then forgotten…
solo dollThe dolls choked on satin visages of yesteryear. Long ago, they’d been precious…
headEyes once marble-bright were now marred dull like the fabric tears of stuffed clowns…
clownThe giant husband and I had to look away from the pained grimaces.
wrestlerBut the most frightening thing of all was when a little sinister man-doll attempted to steal the giant husband’s soul…
bpThank 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.