I painted this doll with the face of a middle aged woman. I like how distressed she looks, and the glasses complete the look. I sew on hair, but it just made her look normal so I removed it.
I wax specific areas (paint with wax) and light from the back...in the end it will be in a glass frame to hang in a window....tben the waxed areas will glow!!!
Another piece from my vernal pools/treescapes studies I have been working on in correlation to my interest in local creature found in our woodlands.
I adopted the use of a circle one night, wanting to frame out an idea/sketch and a wine glass happened to be close by. Since then I have used it often, loving the circle aspect.
A piece from my vernal pools/treescapes studies I have been working on in correlation to my interest in local creature found in our woodlands.
I adopted the use of a circle one night, wanting to frame out an idea/sketch and a wine glass happened to be close by. Since then I have used it often, loving the circle aspect.
An article/rant/annotation to an illustration. A #Hackney bar and its flies.
This picture is not as sad and blue as it might at first seem, I promise.
It is early in the week and the pub becomes the territory of the most outspoken drinkers. Raised somewhere between Churchill and Harold MacMillan, a night such as this is time for them to spin out a yarn of nostalgic fantasy. Encouraged by the lack of a crowd and with space to fill, statements start to fly.
In the opening rounds the barman athletically hits back with factual blocks and reality-check haymakers; statistics and personal experiences are given. Two histories cross examined, one where 1982 means Thatcher and the Falklands, the other renders Reagan and the AIDS crisis. Stoicism and national pride vs mental health and realism.
In the latter rounds the barman is fatigued, swaying on the backbar, glasses begin to stack up as form begins to drop. The older men seem stronger than ever.
The barflies come in close now, they scrutinise his generations work ethic and make wild political comments on poverty, immigrants and the minimum wage.
The barman is close to sheer bloody despair, he maintains his defence and focuses on breathing while maintaining his professional stance.
But at the end of the night the barman knows HE will ring that bell, they will politely leave and they will return again in a week and maybe, just maybe there will be a change, common ground or maybe at least polite silence.
But what these interactions have given despite the salt in the eye is community and an exchange between generations, culture and class of those participating. No home is ever straight forward, no relative without their good and bad traits and in a world where we often slide into echo chambers online or in our physical environments, the pub is still a place where society is family, face to face, pint to pint. Or maybe it's just a room with alcohol on tap?
The Golden Hate on a Materic Wall, acrylic on canvas (80x100 cm), drawing on paper with frame and glass (35x50 cm), materic painting with carbonate calcium , gesso and wax
Horrid ways for which sorrow follow further down the dim lights of life. What lines must be crossed as glass seem to puncture minds swollen? A strangeness emerges beneath our shadows.
One of my girls with lots of patterns. The girl keeps in blue and purple and the background and sunglasses is kept in green, orange end yellow tones. I have always had a hard time using less color and this is my practice in keeping a more stringent color theme.
I had a rock tumbler as a child and really enjoyed it. When my youngest was a child we bought her one. She was eager to enjoy it too, but somewhere after starting on that path, we lost track and it everything inside turned into a solid mass. We tossed it and forgot about it. On a recent beach trip, I collected handfuls of rocks, as I am always likely to do, and, upon return, remembered how I loved my childhood rock tumbler. I immediately researched, ordered and eagerly anticipated its delivery. Of course, with Amazon Prime, that was only a couple day’s wait. As soon as I unboxed it I thought “what am I doing?” I have neither time, nor space for yet another hobby. I thought “what will I DO with a pile of polished, pretty rocks?” I would gather them in my hands and feel their silky smoothness. I would likely gather them in some beautiful glass bowl and…then what? I have toddler grand kids frequently at my home. They put small colorful things in their mouths and up their noses and feed them to the dogs regularly. And I don’t even have a single space to display a bog bowl of pretty rocks. So I quickly decided “I’m Returning the Rock Tumbler” and will, for NOW, stick to painting them when the mood strikes.
