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.)

Side by Side

My latest sculpture and the Model.

The Woman Warrior

She started out as Persephone, gathering flowers by the sea, only to be swept up into the arms of Hades on his chariot pulled by four coal-black horses and dragged underground.

But have you ever really looked at coal? Its iridescence? The oily layers of rainbow color under the shiny black? It is never a dull, monochromatic rock, merely, and elementarily, sedimentary. Under certain light it rivals the flowers for color. Its combustibility matched her nature far more closely than the flowers. In truth, she longed to take the reins of the chariot herself and drive those coal-black horses through the mines and tunnels, tearing through Hell like an underground fire that can never be extinguished.

Her face was obliterated by the golden mask that she donned willingly, and she became a Warrior.

Acrylic on paper with glass beads, feather, and Kuba cloth. 38 x 72 cm.

Treasure Dreams

A woman sleeps and dreams of an underwater treasure. Small tropical fish dart in and out among the anemones she conjures up out of her own depths.

A long-dead Sailor also sleeps still grasping treasure of his own. Jewels and gold are scattered along the floor of the ocean, awaiting the Dreamer. How will they find each other?

Acrylic on paper with glass, pearls, lapis, garnets, amber, bone and 22K gold. 28 x 38 cm.

Honorable Bruce U. Morrow

This is the Judge who ruled in favor of my outdoor paintings. He is up for reelection today. Needless to say, he has my vote!

Flights of Fancy

An earthy angel with colorful wings gazes across the sea. In a parlor filled with globes and paintings, easels, and inventions, a hand is sketching out new ideas with a quill pen. A flying machine floats in a brilliant light bulb. Soon the two - artist and angel - will meet in a flight of imagination.

“There is a space between man's imagination and man's attainment that may only be traversed by his longing” - Kahlil Gibran

Acrylic on paper, silk and polyurethane, butterfly and moth wings, and macaw feathers. Approximately 32 x 60 cm.

The Shaman

"They wished to flower, and flowering is being beautiful: but we wish to ripen, and that means being dark and taking pains." - Rainer Maria Rilke

Acrylic paint on paper, cotton and silk, with glass, green jasper, paua shell and macaw feathers. About 35 x 35 cm. Private collection.

Terra Incognita

Acrylic on paper. 55 x 38 cm. Private collection

In vino veritas

"I cook with wine; sometimes I even add it to the food." --- W. C. Fields

(painted wine corks with coffee beans and one bone bead for "other features")

Feather Touch

My cousin gave me this huge bunch of stunning, multi-colored macaw feathers after he saw my strange collages which use every conceivable thing one can glue to paper.

I am accepting gifts of like nature, especially butterfly wings, which are hard to find. Don't destroy any living thing, but if you find them, I'll be interested! (One friend donated a big bag of wine corks, which she claims was hard work. I told her next time she should call for back-up.)

Snake Eyes

There he is now, cozying up to Miss Snake Eyes. Doesn't it just figure that these two would find each other? Two of a kind. She's as bad as he is. Tiny little black-hearted thing.

I guess we've all got to have somebody.

Acrylic on paper with ample amounts of tobacco, wine corks, cigarette paper, bone button, glass bead and tiger's eye. 33 x 49 cm.

Bad Habits

Well, well, look what just rolled off the Ship...

He's coarse and he's mean. A thoroughly unsavory character. He's got a lot of very bad habits. He drinks too much. He smokes. And...I think he cheats at cards.

(Sigh) What can one say but,"Alea iacta est."

At least I figured out what to do with all those old wine corks.


Acrylic on paper with a great deal of tobacco, cork, cotton and one glass bead. 25 x 32 cm.

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble...

I feel the need to fall in love again - with an idea, not with a person. But how to conjure it up? I'm casting about in the only way I know how - by touching and moving fabrics and papers - swirling gel mediums, semi-precious jewels and other elements. Something will emerge from the Cauldron.

I found part of the bottom of a shoe in the street the other day while walking my dog. Perhaps if I ink it and put it through my printing press?

Walk with me awhile.

Copycats? Let's hope so...

I'd very much like to think I've been an influence in this new project from the DIA (I think I have!):

Museum brings art outdoors in metro Detroit

Eyes of the Storm

She looms over the horizon, wild-haired, black as night with eyes of gold. Try as you might to predict her next move, she has her own wheel and her own charts, etched into her smile. She knows no helmsman.

The ship finds a bright crack in the dawn and is safe - for now.

Acrylic on paper, silk and cotton, with glass beads and 22K gold leaf. 28 x 38 cm.

Runaway Horses

A horse snaps its reins and stampedes across a field of bank notes and Colonial coins. Benjamin Franklin is the unwilling and unwitting jockey on this wild ride. Semi-precious stones, mother-of-pearl, and glass beads - anything that can be traded or has been traded - are scattered across the path.

Acrylic on paper and printed cotton with glass, mother-of-pearl, tiger's eye, hematite and 22K gold leaf. 12 x 16 cm.

Weathervane

The creak of the weathervane can be heard as the wind blows. Old Colonial-era coins fly by in the breeze from a Southerly direction. An oily sky is black with storm.

The body of the weathervane is the scroll decoration of a turn-of-the-century cash register, on the haunches is the howling and appalled face of a denuded coconut. The arched back leg is a dead sea horse.

Acrylic on paper with silk threads and sand. 28 x 38 cm.

Royalty

A King and Queen, enemies, stare Janus-like in opposite directions. The only thing they have in common - the one thing that binds them - is their royal T.

Acrylic on paper with leather, wool, glass beads and cowrie shells. 19 x 28 cm.

Fun With Fossils

No matter what people say, I'm really not a demon. Those little horns on my head are actually cup coral fossils from the Devonian period, about 417 - 354 million years ago. The land which is now known as Michigan was once under an ancient ocean and is particularly rich in fossils of this period. This has led to vast limestone deposits which we quarry today. During the Devonian period, the Earth looked quite different and most of the continents were formed in a "pre-Pangea".

From this period, and with a bit of patience, one can find cup coral...

...delicate crinoids...

...hexageneric corals, like starburst fireworks...

...and brachiopods, gastropods and trilobites (not pictured here.)

Good hunting!

Call the Tune

A country couple dances in an idyllic setting to the music of two itinerant players. Butterfly wings keep the beat. A horned creature looks on. Is He the one who calls the tune?

Acrylic on paper with glass beads and butterfly wings. 14 x 19 cm.