The Captain

Acrylic paint on Arches Cover, cotton and polyester with tiger's eye, glass beads and Navy button.

The Hunters In The Wallpaper

Shades of cave paintings...

Acrylic on Arches Cover and cotton Toile de Jouy upholstery fabric with bone and glass beads.

Off The Top Of My Head

The holidays are coming and I want a small stock of easily produced and sold works. It's the perfect opportunity to use the stash of fabric scraps I bought from Arts and Scraps on Harper in Detroit and make one or two paintings a day for a while.

"A House Divided"

"The Wheel of the Earth Turns To The Sun"

"Eye Eye, Captain!"

"The Fates"

"Byzantium"

"The Mermaid"

"Two Women"

"Prey" (The tank rumbling across the horizon doesn't show very well in this photo, but it's there.)


All paintings on Arches paper in acrylic, fabric and beads.

Jester

“The artist is still a little like the old court jester. He's supposed to speak his vicious paradoxes with some sense in them, but he isn't part of whatever the fabric is that makes a nation.”

-William Faulkner

Wild Thing...

... you make my heart sing.

First Time on Ebay

I have decided to try a few pieces on Ebay. I may eventually sign up for Etsy as well but for now you can take a peek at my wares here...

http://www.ebay.com/sch/erica_erotica/m.html?_nkw=&_armrs=1&_from=&_ipg=25&_trksid=p3686

The Aurochs Jumped Over The Moon

I've had this cow's skull for years and never did anything with it. Rediscovered it when cleaning out the garage and finally made something of it. I was inspired by Herzog's "Cave of Forgotten Dreams" and pictures from Lascaux. My aurochs (a very fierce ancestor of the domestic cow) is jumping over a Horned Moon. We should remember our wilder selves.

Acrylic on cow skull. After I varnish it, I may add a tiny rhinestone close to the Moon. It will be a star or planet, as one may see in the sky, and it will also be a little bit "cowboy".

Sad Sweetheart

My second scrimshaw. Not quite finished but getting there. A little less than two inches long (5 cm.) India ink on bone.

My First Scrimshaw

Inspired by all those marvelous old artworks I saw in all those seaports. This is a rough old bone bead recycled from an old necklace. I seem to have lost my drypoint needle so used a book binding needle which does not really suffice. But I love the technique. I have located polished tagua nut slices and those are far more sustainable. Will order those for future scrimshaw projects and incorporate them into my collages.

This bead is a little less than 2 inches long.

Cast of Characters

Appearing now on my front lawn.

Celestial Navigation

We steer by the stars when dreaming..

Acrylic on paper, silk and cotton, with sequins and glass beads. 10 x 13" or 25.4 x 33 cm.

How To Catch A Sailor

A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.

- William Butler Yeats

Acrylic on canvas, wool, silk, cotton, linen and polyester, with garnets, pearls, mother-of-pearl, carved bone, Chinese ceramic, Chinese turquoise, tiger's-eye, glass, lapis, amethyst, peridot, citrine and mica. 18 x 24" or 45 x60 cm.

Widow's Walk

Acrylic on paper, silk and linen with mica. 10 x 13" or 25.4 x 33 cm.

Three Jacks

Acrylic on paper, silk, cotton, linen, wool and leather with cowrie shells, mica and sequins. 19.5 x 22 " (uneven) or 49.5 x 55.8 cm.

The Compass

She scans a horizon of nearly two centuries, trying in vain to imagine his face. The best she can do is paint in tones of Brown and follow the faint traces he has left, like the phosphorescent trail left behind in the wake of a ship, seen only on moonless nights.

Acrylic on paper with silk, cotton and linen, and garnet, amethyst, pearl quartz, bone, lapis, tiger's-eye, glass, shell and Chinese ceramic beads. 10 x 13" or 25 x 33 cm.

Lovely To See You Again

New painting for the garden. "Lovely to see you again, my friend." 36 x 80" or 91.4 x 203 cm. Acrylic on wood.

The Monster

This is the Monster. I was completely awestruck by the sight of the dark wave, thorny with broken pilings and debris, moving across the Japanese landscape. This painting is very small, only 12 x 12 inches, but it is the face of the Monster I saw in the wave.

Acrylic on canvas and cotton, with glass beads. 30 x 30 cm.

Meanderings

Meanderings. What is happening all around us, mostly unnoticed. Inspired by Rick Lieder's BugDreams.com

Acrylic on canvas, silk and cotton with glass beads. 20 x 25 cm. each

The Explorer

The brigantine skimmed the shoreline of the new country. The yardarms turned, squared the sails, revealed the ghostly line of the beach beyond the breakers like a woman lifting a veil.

The Explorer stood upon the deck of the ship. Across the waters the whinnying of the wild horse herd carried like a song. Scruffy, with unkempt coat and mane and unshod hooves, the stallion called to his mares, gathered them together. Their foals – his children- pranced alongside their mothers, their little necks arched, ears tipped fully forward. The young ones did not feel the nervousness of the stallion - his alert mistrust of the large white bird hovering just off the beach. He had never before heard the creaks and groans of such a bird, nor the flapping of the dark red flags at the tips of the tall masts. The Explorer could just make out the herd as they galloped across the sands, could feel the anxiety of the stallion.

A detailed map dangled from the Explorer’s fingertips. The holds of the ship carried much treasure and many fine navigational instruments. Other ships had carried the bodies of men. The Explorer knew such traders and could have made a fortune in this way. Packed tightly together, the buying and selling of men and women was very profitable, but the ship was ruined forever afterwards – the stink of such trade was too great and there was disease, and infection of the soul as well. The Explorer had wanted nothing to do with treasure of that kind.

The Explorer’s ship was a sweet vessel, and true, and her bowsprit had pointed the way to many discoveries, as surely as the needle on a compass pointed to the North. The discoveries had led to treasure and a lifetime of wealth. Now the Explorer stood watching these wild things, smelling their alarm, even at this distance. Back home, such creatures would have been hitched to fancy carriages, beautifully groomed with perfectly polished and trimmed hooves and necks held tightly in leather harnesses with shiny brass collar ornaments. A fashionable and showy set of animals made a fine impression on one’s colleagues and fellow society members.

The creatures on the beach had escaped from ships wrecked in storm, or their ancestors had.

Desperately they had kicked their way out of the ships’ stalls, broken the ropes that had imprisoned their heads and feet, had plunged into the sea, and, although they had never done it before, they had known how to swim and in what direction. Reaching the shore through the rough and whitened surf, they had shaken off the salty water and located island grasses. Found pools of fresh water. Their bellies became round with the salt that permeated all the vegetation on these barrier islands. In the summer they were tormented by biting flies and they learned to plunge into the ocean to drive them off. But come spring there were sweet fresh shoots to nibble and new grass to eat, and winters were not too long nor too hard. And they thrived, became a family, many families. The stallions fought and won, or lost, made new herds, and the island became their home for generations.

The Explorer knew these creatures would never accept the bridle and bit, would never wear fine leather and brass ornaments, would never be ridden. Would never even accept a caress. They were where they wanted to be, away from ownership, away from the reins.

The spirit of the horses leapt on board, infected the ship and the soul, and the Explorer never wanted to see the fancy carriage horses again. The white sails swelled like the belly of a pregnant mare and the ship of the Explorer headed away from the shore and out into the rising storm.

Acrylic on canvas with leather, silk, velvet, polyester microfiber, cotton, sequins, glass, carved bone, lapis lazuli, quartz, amber, garnets, pearls. 91 x 152 cm (36 x 60 inches)

The Impossibility of Blue Roses

A woman studies her charts, making ready to set sail once again. She will search the world for impossible blue roses. Her ship embarks from the compass of her heart. The winds are favorable...

After a journey of many days? weeks? months? years? she sights a sliver of land on the horizon. An island! Perhaps the elusive roses grow there. But the winds strengthen into a hurricane, as perfectly spiraled as a nautilus...

... and she is blown off course, all her beautiful navigational instruments and the treasures she has gathered lost to the roiling sea.

Meanwhile, the roses gently nod and sway their full, heavy heads on her garden island, spreading their fragrance far and wide.

Gel-Filled Molds - Yummy!

I found this replica brass sextant in the gift shop at the Mariners Museum in Newport News and right away could see its potential in regard to new paintings. I shall draw from it and make gel-medium-filled molds which I will apply to my artwork.
This sextant actually does function in a crude way. It would need a lot of adjustments- I could not get the lamp I was focusing on to quite sweep my "horizon" (the window sill.) But I have finally understood how it works, which is already something.


Here is the mold I made from the sextant. It is rough, but I want that fragmentary look.


These are gel medium filled molds of various objects. Once made the molds last for years and I can use them over and over again. They look a little like cookies on a baking sheet, but they don't taste nearly as good.

Now, you can wait for the results!

The Wave

A sailor in dress blue uniform steps forward with a sharp salute. The song in his heart is on the lips of the woman who breathes it into a silver microphone. Above her on the wall is a map of Newfoundland and Labrador, where the first transatlantic Marconi station was located.

A radio tower beams the song across the world and a Hokusai wave washes over the bow. In another country a woman turns to listen to something coming over the breeze.

Why do I hear "Moonlight Serenade" in my head?

Acrylic on canvas with silk, cotton, leather, wool and rhinestones. 30 x 40 inches and 76 x 101 cm.

Circumnavigation

Perhaps one needs to travel a great distance to discover the treasure lying in the tangle of seaweed and other flotsam. We're all squared away on that by now?

Acrylic on paper, silk, cotton and linen with garnets, lapis lazuli, peridot, amber, tiger's-eye, amethyst, quartz, citrine, labradorite, hematite, onyx, glass, Chinese ceramic, African trade bead, carved bone, mica, fishing net and 22K gold leaf. 31 x 33 cm.

The Origin of Gems

White hot and red flames still licked the slowly blackening ground after the eruption. Soon, the cool rains would come and wash traces of minerals into the spaces where gases had bubbled and escaped. Other minerals had come up from the depths of the Cauldron along with the lava. Gold. Copper. Iron. Nickel. Manganese. These ran in rivers along the black banks, solidifying into seams and underground lakes, frozen in their tracks. The air was hot, poisonous, and the sky was as red as the flames.

The weight of the mantle as it rolled over the new land pressed these traces into garnets, diamonds. In other Rooms quartz, peridot, topaz, chalcedony, carnelian, amethyst, hematite, pyrite, grew into giant crystals. They lay, attached to the walls of their original Womb, until the rains and the violent movements of the Earth cracked and freed them. They rolled into the Sea while lightning snapped, twisted and sizzled endlessly overhead, sometimes striking the tormented waters. Unseen, something very small combined and formed, combined and formed under the Oceans, and then it began to twitch, pulse and move.

Acrylic on paper and silk with glass, gold, quartz, garnets, peridots, amethysts and topaz 16.5 x 25 cm.

No Photos Involved

People, please understand that my paintings are NOT photographs. There is never any photography involved in my paintings. These are all actual paintings on paper. I paint on silk and other materials and glue on gems and beads of various kinds, but the images you see are hand-painted paintings.

I hope we've cleared that up at last.

The Figurehead

She listed in the dock, fractured and peeling. Her ship was due to be broken up in this harbor. They had sailed the world together, trading in foreign lands. The Master’s hand was steady, firm, seasoned. She trusted his every move and every order, through storm and calm, past treacherous reefs and through the shallows. But now the wood was full of rot and anyway, those days were long past.

She had been carved as an Angel, in the traditional manner, and fastened snugly to the bowsprit. Her eyes, lips, hands and her full, naked breasts embodied the soul of her ship, went forth before all else, parted the seas before the ship and protected the crew. She was its spirit, but the ship was her body; its sails her true wings, caressed always by the strong and callused hands of the crew. Although she was beautifully painted, her Master took pride in her as if she were a wife and adorned her whenever possible. On occasion, in some new port, when the trading had been especially profitable and the Master was well pleased, he would purchase a special, commemorative embellishment for her. In Tahiti he had bought pearls for her neck and had the ship’s carpenter lay them in. After their first exploration of the coastline of Brazil he had had her wings painted in the image of colorful macaw feathers after the astonishing birds they had seen there. And always she was kept in perfect repair, her hands and lovely face always smooth. Never was the sea, or the salt-laden winds, allowed to be harsh to her. And always, the holds were filled with rich goods and the coins, jewels, and beautiful things of the world.

Now she waited, memories of those years flowing over her. She was separated from her ship, destined for a maritime museum. Even in her sorry state she was still of value. She was repaired again – though not as her Master would have done - and set up within sight of the harbor. But her ship - her very Heart, and her true wings, were nothing more than a faded, nearly undecipherable series of entries in a browned and curling Captain’s log, so fragile it could rarely be touched. As she gazed out over the harbor, surrounded by polite museum- goers, in her mind they still flew together over the waves, the Angel and her Ship, with the Master at the helm.

Acrylic on paper, silk and polyester with Moroccan gold-stamped leather, fishing net, carved Tahiti smoky pearl, colored pearls, Chinese hand-painted ceramic pieces, paua shell, glass bead, macaw feathers, garnet, amethyst quartz, peridot, and yellow topaz. 50 x 68 cm (with feather span.)