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A Painting A Day, Day Twenty-three
Apr. 23rd, 2015 04:40 pm
I think this was a watercolour. It is of my niece. I don't know how good a likeness of her it is however, in my defence it is how I see her, the literary injenue.I think this was a watercolour. It is of my niece. I don't know how good a likeness of her it is however, in my defence it is how I see her, the literary injenue.
A Painting A Day, Day Fourteen
Apr. 13th, 2015 10:27 pm
A gallery was taking submissions of new work under the banner "Hands" and I was going through old photo albums and there under the photograph my father had written the word, "hands". Not his name and my brothers. It was like a message. So I did the painting. It never sold so I gave it to my brother.A Painting A Day, Day Eleven
Apr. 10th, 2015 11:30 pm
On the right is Great Gramma Judd. It was a special trip to visit a childhood friend of hers. She had on her best hat and dress for the occassion.This is on ofmy earliest paintings ever. NOw I can see all sorts wrong with it but at the time I felt pretty good about it.A Painting A Day, Day Ten
Apr. 9th, 2015 11:29 pm
I did a two versions of this. It never sold either way. I was interested in trying my hand at water and metal. It was from a photo in a magazine. The baby had a fever. It was in a refugee camp somewhere during some war or famine or disaster and it was jst another woman with a sick baby doing what she could for it... with three kids I had some time with that. There is a sort of duality that arises, or perhaps it is how the heart and mind compromise what needs to be done regardless of fear or panic and the enormous responsibility of it...there is a sort of stillness, not of peace but of dreadful resolve and at the same time a crazy inner dialogue of all you will swear to if only the child will get better.
(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2011 06:32 am |
| paintings of family Whitehorse YK when my brother was 6 or so. My father was teaching him to tie knots.\ |
There is a bit of a glare and it is distorted by the camera. This is in the collection of Susan Harrison.
There was a contest at a gallery and the "prompt" was "hands". I started going through old photo albums and I came across this photo and underneath was written (by my father) the word "Hands" This is a detail from the photo.
Did I tell you that for many years I had my father's ghost whispering in my ear? He was such a perfectionist in life it must have made him crazy to see what a mess I was making of the repairs around the house. The notes he tied to pipes and wires telling me where things went really did help.
I remember in one dream I finally shouted, "You're dead and your opinion doesn't matter to me!" It took me over forty years to get to that point, truely. Everyone in my family likes to perpetuate the idea that I was the family rebel and "tough" but in truth I was constantly hoping to gain his approval, I just failed so consistantly that I pretended I didn't care. When I failed the most I let him think I did it on purpose to bug him.
