Tackle With Love, Son

Posted on August 19, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
The big son decided this year he’d like to give football a try. He’s a gentle soul by nature – a pacifist at heart – but, he’s discovered a love for mannish sports. I look at him, smiling with his gigantic football gear on and pray it keeps him safe from injury. Though, I know it’s impossible to ask for such a divine favor – so I’ll just ask that he has fun and that he’ll only require a bandaid from time to time.

We can’t protect our children anymore than we can make ourselves less vulnerable to life. What we can do is arm them with self-confidence. So when their young minds are conflicted or they find themselves in a precarious situation, they can remember the mantra, “I’m better than this…”

After I took this silly-faced picture of the big son, he said, “I’ll feel bad if I hurt anyone, mom.”

I responded quite motherly, “Then tackle them with love, my son.” Then I glanced up at the sky and thought, I hope you’re tackled with love too.

Love Tackle

On the way to the big son’s 5 and 1/2 hour practice today, we saw the sun’s rays peeking through. We both took this as a good sign…

Thank you. May you dream this evening of the world’s children being safe from harm.

Big Son with Goofy Face photo taken August 14, 2014
Blue Footballer drawn August 18, 2014 with Prism and fingers crossed (right hand only, needed left to draw)
Sun rays taken this AM, August 19, 2014

Moonskin and a Blue Monster

Posted on August 10, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
The saturday night moon… Something about soft blue light bathing parts of vulnerable skin, the bedroom window allows to be touched. So peaceful this moonlight. Smiling, forgetting my head sinking into the mattress because that old pillow has seen better days. Like a child – I was – in that satin light. Our dachshund curled under the comforter; a tunneler by trade. Shouldn’t he be howling or something?

A few months ago, the big son was perusing my high school yearbook. He found my senior picture, looked a few moments then said, “Mom, you looked pretty.” I smiled. He made me feel young like that satin moonlight, if only for a moment.

And of course, now that I’m lots older, more wrinkled and much wiser, the moonlight also inspires other things. I like to call this lovely birdie, Bluebell. He rises with the sunset and enjoys all things in blue moon light.

If you should meet him please don’t worry, he harbors a sweet disposition, but just to be safe, I’d let him be…unless the moon is extra bright…

Thank you and goodnight. May delicious blue moonlight guide you to dreamland…
High School grad photo taken 1981 yikes! Bluebell images created in 2010…

The Pointy-Eared Dog Who Admired Art

Posted on July 20, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
There once lived a pointy-eared dog who admired art. He marveled at flat empty spaces of no significance brought to life with color, line and form. His great canine imagination soared whenever he gazed upon brushwork harmony –

One day he met a lovely blue-eyed woman. They spent the afternoon sipping Harley & Sons Peppermint Herbal Tea – his favorite – bantering about the merits of sable brushes infused with hog hair. He asked a passerby to take a photo of this lovely smiling day. For the pointed-eared dog feared, if precious moments were not captured on canvas or film, the memories would be lost forever-

Concern for his own lasting image began haunting him. The pointy-eared dog once heard of a legend. A pointy-eared dog like himself – a Queen in her day – who had her image committed to canvas.

He wished for the same and set about the task of gathering the portraitist’s location. During his info quest, the pointy-eard dog heard another legend. This one painted terror in his heart. After the Queen’s death, the royal portraitist became a recluse and had moved beyond the border of Werewolf Wood. If one desired their portrait painted, one must make it through Werewolf Wood alive.

The pointy-eared dog contemplated his motives for desiring a portrait of himself-

He questioned the intelligence of risking life and limb –

The pointy-eared dog even tried imagining the mighty Werewolf fearing itself-

Lupogoggle

In the end, the pointy-eared dog smartly decided not to risk a journey through Werewolf Wood. He’d have to do his best to remember himself from the inside. He’d try to summon his best qualities and paint an image in his heart. The pointy-eared dog reasoned if he focused on his good qualities everyday, his image would be a masterpiece…

Thank you. May you dream a dream free of werewolves and hobgoblins…
Hope you enjoyed this little tale. Incidentally, Rocky the Shepherd is a ham 😉

Photo: Rocky posing with Captain -acrylic on canvas, 1998 Photo: My lovely sister Dolores with Rocky 2011 Photo: Chama posing with her portrait: oil on canvas,1994 Photos: Rocky the Shepherd closeups – 2013
Werewolf art – mixed media 2011, Werewolf with Goggles – Prisma 2014

In an Elephant’s Eye

Posted on July 15, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
Do you ever have one of those outer-body experiences? It usually happens when you pose the intrusive question, “Who am I really?” Then you become aptly concerned when you don’t have enough solid information to answer yourself. Sometimes outer-body occurs after staring at your reflection too long. You investigate the mask you happen to be wearing at the time and think, “Is this what they see when they see me?”

The elephant is one of a handful of mammals who recognizes its own reflection. This beautiful creature doesn’t get caught up in human over-analyzations. In an elephant’s eye it sees who it is – nothing more, nothing less – it sees itself and simply knows its purpose for the day…

I had a little fun with this beautiful creature, imparting human qualities upon its regal form. I thought if elephants were people they might become a tad self-concious after watching, The Biggest Loser.

Belly Mask

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of tutu-clad elephants dancing a lullaby…

Elephant close-up rendered in Prisma on construction paper, 2009
Belly Mask rendered in Prisma July 14, 2014

The Talking Mushroom and the Little Red Fox

Posted on July 10, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
There once lived a little red fox-

fox

Her auburn fur edged with gold, flickered in the sunlight whenever she ran about the forest. She was smart and lovely, yet she was unhappy. Though she could do all things in perfect fox-form, she dreamt of being a kangaroo. Daily she practiced graceful long jumps. The little red fox could even leap much higher than her older brothers. But this amazing athletic prowess, didn’t satiate her bounding appetite. She wanted to be a kangaroo. One misty morning with dew saturating her delicate toes, the little red fox came upon a purple-spotted mushroom. It was a purple-spotted fungus, the likes of which she’d never seen.

“My dear child,” bubbled the purple-spotted mushroom from his damp earthen throne, “you are unhappy.”

“Yes,” replied the little fox, not even a bit concerned she was talking to a purple-spotted fungus.

“I can make you happy,” whispered the mushroom low, as not to share his secret.

“How?” asked the little red fox, unable to contain her excitement.

“One bite of me and your dream will come true.”

The little red fox wasted not a moment, she chomped on the purple-spotted mushroom. When she awoke next morning, she could not push up on her strong front paws as she done all the previous days of her life. She rolled to her side, then much to her surprise, sprang up. So forceful was the leap, she soared fifty feet across the forest floor. The little red fox landed by a large puddle that had collected between gnarly tree roots and rock. She caught her reflection in the shimmering water. Her wish had been granted – her dream realized. Instead of being jubilant for the change, she sobbed mightily. She was neither a little red fox nor a complete kangaroo…

There was once a snowman who wished he was a fox-

Snow Fox

Hope you enjoyed my little fable.
Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of being content in your own skin…

(Fox Up Close: Prisma, 2000, Foxroo: acrylic on canvas, 1999, Snowman with Fox Mask: Prisma, two days ago)

Why Can’t Marilyn Die?

Posted on July 1, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
What is it about Marilyn Monroe? Our appetite for her is limitless.

I fell for her too. I created all these Marilyn images while in college to fill bare apartment walls.

Though gorgeous, sexual beings have gone before and will after (especially today with sophisticated ‘self-improvement’ technologies) none will ever come close to Marilyn’s platinum pulchritude. What is it beyond her obvious blessings? What keeps Norma Jean ever present on our radar.

Perhaps, the perception of innocence around her persona allows us to love her above all others. It allows us to forgive her ‘naive’ transgressions. We blame Hollywood, we blame the machine for allowing her to slip through the cracks. Had her full lips creased at forty-five, would she have tarnished? Would her ‘innocence’ have turned stale? Maybe…

I don’t know about ‘candles in the wind,’ I only know Marilyn Monroe ended her life (unless you subscribe to other conspiracy theories) before life ended her. As for me, I’m still looking for Elvis and Jim.

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of statuesque blonde angels…

(magazine pic taken in local Stop & Shop, top Marilyn: 18″ x 24″ print from zinc plate etching, middle Marilyn: 5′ x 3′ acrylic painting, bottom Marilyn 9′ conté crayon) All images painted from photographic reference, couldn’t locate original photographers’ names, if anyone knows, please pass on – all photo images are under different estates…thank you

Hitchhikers Are Not Wolves

Posted on June 24, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
Though I’m done with subbing for the year, I drove my kids to school this morning. They generally ride the bus, unless they present a convincing plea. The delicate daughter has perfected the art of pleading. This morning’s plea began last night. She had the Chemistry Regents today and was concerned about AM cafeteria crowding…. The big son’s eighth-grade graduation was also today.

After the AM school drop off, I merrily made my way back home. I was thinking about what to wear for the “Recognition Ceremony” and was hoping I plucked everything in need of plucking. Not fully concentrating, I had to pull my giant vehicle left to avoid a gent walking roadside. If Nair and tweezers hadn’t been invented, we might be related. He was unkempt in appearance. He wore a cap which concealed his eyes. He was quite thin and his shoulders were slumped, but he held his fist erect. His thumb was up and my head was down. Why? Every time I pass a hitchhiker, I picture Stephen King. Then I think – this person is not a wolf…

I often brag how tough I am. My inner-tomboy would whomp anyone bringing discomfort to my loved ones. Why does the little girl in me say, ‘keep driving….’ when she sees a thumb up. I feel tremendous guilt passing hitchhikers by, but I continue to do so. Maybe if the times were different, maybe. Hitchhikers are not wolves…hitchhikers are not wolves…

Thank you and goodnight. May your dreams be protected by Sweet Lobo of Moon Clan.

(This is a detail of a 5′ x 5′ oil painting on canvas, I think I painted this wolf about 6 years ago)

Linus Who?

Posted on June 23, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,

Partial Wikipedia entry: “Linus Carl Pauling (February 28, 1901 – August 19, 1994) was an American chemist, biochemist, peace activist, author, and educator. He was one of the most influential chemists in history and ranks among the most important scientists of the 20th century. Pauling was one of the founders of the fields of quantum chemistry and molecular biology.

For his scientific work, Pauling was awarded the Nobel Prize in Chemistry in 1954. In 1962, for his peace activism, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. This makes him the only person to be awarded two unshared Nobel Prizes. He is one of only four individuals to have won more than one Nobel Prize (the others being Marie Curie, John Bardeen, and Frederick Sanger). Pauling is also one of only two people to be awarded Nobel Prizes in different fields, the other being Marie Curie.”

I have officially entered Mr. Pauling into my gray matter. I pray a tiny brain wrinkle forms so this new info keeps. Well my friends, as we dangle upside down contemplating the meaning of our lives and struggle for our minute of fame, notoriety, security, acknowledgment, validation or a simple pat on the back, perhaps the real measure of greatness is finding one’s face in the dictionary margin.

Thank you and goodnight. May you dream of humanity winning the Nobel Peace Prize…

(Sketched this portrait today, beneath the beautiful sun and glorious sky. Cheesy pencil on cheesy paper)

ALL is Not Divisible by Two

Posted on June 19, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
Sixteen short years ago, I left my career. It was a surprise even to me. I had planned on working right through the whole mom thing. Why not? I could multitask with the best of them. I had color-coding down to a science. I was not only a list maker, I was a List Master.

Go ahead, throw in that new baby ’cause there was nothing I couldn’t do. Besides, all the women I worked with returned after having babies so would I. I adored my career. I loved walking into my big office, (though I didn’t appreciate the kitchenette location if someone was microwaving broccoli). Creating 4/C textbooks and their ancillary components required a small planet of talented people. My staff was terrific and I had a fabulous administrative assistant. After months of arduous work, I always loved having a tangible product to shove proudly into someone’s hands.

I only knew how to do my job one way – ALL. I worked many hours often and always. It was how my parents raised me. You give your ALL so ALL was what I gave. I was Atlas – the weight of the publishing planet upon my back.

Eight months after the delicate daughter entered my autobiography, I gave notice. I only knew ALL and ALL was not divisible by two. For many months afterward I color-coded toy baskets, made infinite to-do-lists and wrote about a little alien in my house…

Thank you and goodnight. May your dreams be weightless and pain-free this evening…

(I rendered fashion gal in pen and ink, ball on back girl is pencil, Prentice Hall cover design and interior design by me. Skeletal System in Motion cover illustration by the talented illustrator: Keith Kasnot )

The Middle Kingdom

Posted on June 18, 2014 by AM Roselli

Dear Friends,
Today, I mistakenly left the Jonathan Tropper book I was reading at home. So for some light lunch reading I grabbed an Ancient Civilization textbook from the room I was subbing in. Since my mind has been on the Far East, I opened to Ancient China. I’d read this chapter before but hadn’t thought beyond the 12-point Times Roman.

Through no fault of their own and perhaps a tad bit of ego, the ancient Chinese believed they were nearly alone in the world. There was no possibility of other powerful civilizations like the Egyptians, Romans or Greeks existing beyond the seas and mountains that cut them off from the rest of the planet. Convinced they were the center of the universe, the Ancient Chinese called themselves the Middle Kingdom. Funny, don’t many of us think this way? If we don’t extend ourselves, we too believe we are the center of our universe.

I like the idea of a Middle Kingdom. I wonder what the characters – cut off from the rest of their world – might look like. I collected some older sketches that could be interesting springboards for, “Monsters in the Middle.” Hey, isn’t that already a show?
This gal might be a protector of a crystal cradle –