tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27302395657014435472024-03-18T21:00:54.582-07:00Deer Trails
I live in the woods on a small island in the Coast Salish territory of Canada where I make art to send out into the big wide world.Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-60140938566006834862019-08-24T22:49:00.001-07:002019-08-24T22:49:15.229-07:00Forest QueensNot long after I began painting small works on wood blocks, beginning with my “medieval” flowers, there came the moment when an actual being emerged....the very first of my forest women. It was December of 2016, shortly after my birthday, in the winter following my mother’s visit from overseas. I think I was seeking some company, perhaps just the wise and loving friend I needed to be for myself, and I found her by painting her into my world. She had a confident and serious expression, somewhat imploring, maybe mildly impish and chastising...who knows, but like a Buddha presence, her calm expression blinked at me from out of the wood grain. She was the first of many more forest queens and crowned princesses to enter the room, and they haven’t stopped arriving ever since. I named this first one Winter Solstice Queen, and because she is my “first born”, I think she quietly remains my favourite:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVFNzVulyk6wxhWEukoqxOHN33hrW6rTw1zyjgTkVZ2KStwzAQS_eYp9nZGkMCstpyem4jII3-eqbJ4KRZB_kIa44UqeqTOPvetVd5hMIR9x2I2g1h5nPFsNVNcQU_DwR_4ETtPLTto8/s1600/9116585D-33BE-4660-A78C-68090D4BFCC2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1057" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXVFNzVulyk6wxhWEukoqxOHN33hrW6rTw1zyjgTkVZ2KStwzAQS_eYp9nZGkMCstpyem4jII3-eqbJ4KRZB_kIa44UqeqTOPvetVd5hMIR9x2I2g1h5nPFsNVNcQU_DwR_4ETtPLTto8/s320/9116585D-33BE-4660-A78C-68090D4BFCC2.jpeg" title="" width="211" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter Solstice Queen ~ oil on wood ~ 4” x 6”</td></tr>
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In January of 2017, I painted the Olive Forest Queen. I was pleased with her ice blue eyes, they were sultry and intelligent, and I gave her a head wrap and collar of snow leopard fur. The following month, came the Princess and the Pea, a red haired braided woman in simple dress, with a single pea atop her crown.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1137" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYiebxCgNbeDXQuB3AeGCVIiXvTPmg-gaU39t1U8Xc5fENXCpCAzrVUTYgIPINUdOhBUNbhv5-7-6JItoAWo0gUaGb4htH5p3UaT9l4Y6vpz781cGRSEstlzmDVNVXfmKp0oZio4VW5k/s320/A855DC48-5493-422C-8A09-FC65982DA333.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="224" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olive Forest Queen ~<br />
oil on wood ~ 5” x 7” </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYHOeAFLmkiBiB-Ral0vM_ikK6ljuqh9qEMC1aTPtM88cKKTMCsXxyE2AFU2uDzg1BXOWEr7SReZUMFG2tooe6cNkCWNNQ0rInqpU6Qhply7WXjbiavIGj0S2k3lw67APilfndkwuYJk/s1600/5C933EBB-7CC7-47C2-9F56-696C70B2C03B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1294" data-original-width="886" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYHOeAFLmkiBiB-Ral0vM_ikK6ljuqh9qEMC1aTPtM88cKKTMCsXxyE2AFU2uDzg1BXOWEr7SReZUMFG2tooe6cNkCWNNQ0rInqpU6Qhply7WXjbiavIGj0S2k3lw67APilfndkwuYJk/s320/5C933EBB-7CC7-47C2-9F56-696C70B2C03B.jpeg" width="217" /></a> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Princess and the Pea ~<br />
oil on wood ~ 5” x 7” </td></tr>
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Sadly it turned out that the wood panel upon which I’d painted the Princess and the Pea had developed a fissure across the centre of her face, and a crack formed. I later had to refuse a buyer for the piece due to this flaw. Of course the natural grains and divets in the wood and catches of paint in these pieces are part of the charm, but in this case I worried that the painting might separate, and so I have kept her with me. I began to apply a fine varnish to all the ensuing works, and have never had another problem with the wood...and I love the way the grain is visible within the flow of each forest backdrop.<br />
Over the next two years, between other works, I’ve painted a total of ten forest women, and am now working on my eleventh. They each come with a specific story of their very own, and to have one of them near you is to know you are being kept company, and reminded of your own strength, talent, confidence and ability. I still foresee compiling them into a book, or perhaps a set of oracle cards, or even a calendar.<br />
In the meantime you can follow me on Instagram @raonasa.deertrails to learn more about the details of each piece, and message me there or comment below to enquire about purchasing cards, prints or originals. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birch Tree Princess </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring Princess</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDyuCUffROcLBWuB-IQRXDtykHoRY3FgNhRbeCV4clJLNsuvi7aoQJLCX3YCi6ZMXKqGi4tJdQQ3P4he5g0vwIQrcbksj1knmFGiv71l31PhTOS35HRJBhSCZZ3SYe28jnyllEXspxhI/s1600/AC1A0098-8E04-4D5E-85C6-E81D4C1ADD39.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1087" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWDyuCUffROcLBWuB-IQRXDtykHoRY3FgNhRbeCV4clJLNsuvi7aoQJLCX3YCi6ZMXKqGi4tJdQQ3P4he5g0vwIQrcbksj1knmFGiv71l31PhTOS35HRJBhSCZZ3SYe28jnyllEXspxhI/s200/AC1A0098-8E04-4D5E-85C6-E81D4C1ADD39.jpeg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night Blossom Queen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguoBX7GR-uZ9RbR8ZYnDIcZP5H6B4XpE5gflsraFxuCqq3rsfYxj8mK4keQjcyg6K0YoWa6O2HvKVi-QW1t3shzq7nS-VPsCgmdk6kygN82Jy3oAtYUgORP33ubBPtqnnHcWkWV2uZ4PQ/s1600/803861F3-21FB-4EC0-8895-C3F447ADB3B3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1115" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguoBX7GR-uZ9RbR8ZYnDIcZP5H6B4XpE5gflsraFxuCqq3rsfYxj8mK4keQjcyg6K0YoWa6O2HvKVi-QW1t3shzq7nS-VPsCgmdk6kygN82Jy3oAtYUgORP33ubBPtqnnHcWkWV2uZ4PQ/s200/803861F3-21FB-4EC0-8895-C3F447ADB3B3.jpeg" width="139" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Olive Tartan Queen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-8Slje4_F4fAPSsLtJN0JEuAOr16SZyLQ-rkEoSPgkqN0XCvyDSw4NgyrdPba8eTany7YTCRD6mzCf9NK3TJF0FmqMn1f-emfno_6DGACBgS36B7FuNXrNl5YRKy_rCizR1dvz80SmU/s1600/58C9F4A1-23FA-4F5E-88CF-4A45CE02CBB3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1120" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga-8Slje4_F4fAPSsLtJN0JEuAOr16SZyLQ-rkEoSPgkqN0XCvyDSw4NgyrdPba8eTany7YTCRD6mzCf9NK3TJF0FmqMn1f-emfno_6DGACBgS36B7FuNXrNl5YRKy_rCizR1dvz80SmU/s200/58C9F4A1-23FA-4F5E-88CF-4A45CE02CBB3.jpeg" width="140" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pond Princess </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFatgU3r0__aP01PvsbPXlMLhCf29AwdZAMFtnjLXAOR6PE6Mx_zz4hq9mt3dVraZCxSYOxseMSCSmvUyDOQO_Zkie3rooqfQGbBS9CNW7xJZT3voeFs2HY3doxJdQtffhlTnPK1qR1AY/s1600/F84F8D2E-4197-476B-B034-AADFC30B49DD.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1079" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFatgU3r0__aP01PvsbPXlMLhCf29AwdZAMFtnjLXAOR6PE6Mx_zz4hq9mt3dVraZCxSYOxseMSCSmvUyDOQO_Zkie3rooqfQGbBS9CNW7xJZT3voeFs2HY3doxJdQtffhlTnPK1qR1AY/s200/F84F8D2E-4197-476B-B034-AADFC30B49DD.jpeg" width="134" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Northern Princess </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YtqWs8g_89pFpR36I42xdzssqRQdDXCdLkvAsY_6Eb2TCqHA9f0inP9MfZpUKjE-ntKfSucoFAUiBgTN8J6sKPoLtBPMd6zd3bEW-UdTE1cvGBcvXHDdRTLJs5HmP-I9-ZhN829pz2o/s1600/051855A7-781F-4FD7-BAD8-45CD65E477E7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1140" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7YtqWs8g_89pFpR36I42xdzssqRQdDXCdLkvAsY_6Eb2TCqHA9f0inP9MfZpUKjE-ntKfSucoFAUiBgTN8J6sKPoLtBPMd6zd3bEW-UdTE1cvGBcvXHDdRTLJs5HmP-I9-ZhN829pz2o/s200/051855A7-781F-4FD7-BAD8-45CD65E477E7.jpeg" width="142" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serenity Queen</td></tr>
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<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-69408035456373025112016-12-08T19:57:00.001-08:002016-12-18T23:10:48.178-08:00Small Works on Wood<span style="color: #134f5c;">In November I purchased some very small wood blocks from my favourite store, <a href="http://www.ironoxideartsupplies.com/" target="_blank">Iron Oxide Art Supplies</a>. They measured only 4" x 6". I had already been painting on 5' x 5" and 6" x 6", making little birds on mandala backgrounds. I thought it might be fun to paint something very small and singular and simple. What came to be were these four different flowers:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjkZjnkQjDDubi1KXIFbo6Dk_7MwnR1a06Sx5KON5G634Kzr-yhBeJnCF6vIgRdjjpWvs17JK1ccqZfyIdS5eklH_zUn-EPLrVvOPcU4UOtljVXZ2QpqvYp8Cfry0NijJyQVjPq6lXCw/s1600/Flower+Art+Nouveau.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjkZjnkQjDDubi1KXIFbo6Dk_7MwnR1a06Sx5KON5G634Kzr-yhBeJnCF6vIgRdjjpWvs17JK1ccqZfyIdS5eklH_zUn-EPLrVvOPcU4UOtljVXZ2QpqvYp8Cfry0NijJyQVjPq6lXCw/s320/Flower+Art+Nouveau.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art Nouveau Flower</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptTARGwKSaH1tWVvAEN_xgJCyjuFSC6SyAwiRYkmZzSYaEkPm-ZRFoZY-X9xs8C4q9lsnIx452IIL61JTS2XCxE8jQ2S1Nh_rWQ1p7pJLaAe9OtM6GgXzayvTdSMAibhNsITyYt-XqOQ/s1600/Flower+Medieval+Tulip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptTARGwKSaH1tWVvAEN_xgJCyjuFSC6SyAwiRYkmZzSYaEkPm-ZRFoZY-X9xs8C4q9lsnIx452IIL61JTS2XCxE8jQ2S1Nh_rWQ1p7pJLaAe9OtM6GgXzayvTdSMAibhNsITyYt-XqOQ/s320/Flower+Medieval+Tulip.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medieval Tulip</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkc0qt22fJhJe7QlpBFYdgbq5F1ujHhSOUDh_KaTSLiqExV0Snx0IMdsfWgRHsxM2jElvwmR07VcwQyKR54JNLL03VM35NMekwrWT4jQAzrrDjZGunXyW7H8Q44mDg_O3SMVcahVxcFA/s1600/Flower+Medieval.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkc0qt22fJhJe7QlpBFYdgbq5F1ujHhSOUDh_KaTSLiqExV0Snx0IMdsfWgRHsxM2jElvwmR07VcwQyKR54JNLL03VM35NMekwrWT4jQAzrrDjZGunXyW7H8Q44mDg_O3SMVcahVxcFA/s320/Flower+Medieval.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medieval Flower</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KMRz6KrfIpQWYlHf4_Kw19LE_PVVeVVB0spaidpCNthvbWevLYnoagXzG6cbTu3guWCw4uCy7TZdJCoBHVxWeU5bgS2wSZ31AnxLulrrs_Bxs0wVtzxLJ2Urn2U39o-XwwjIxJ3elxQ/s1600/Flower+Kitchen+Nook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KMRz6KrfIpQWYlHf4_Kw19LE_PVVeVVB0spaidpCNthvbWevLYnoagXzG6cbTu3guWCw4uCy7TZdJCoBHVxWeU5bgS2wSZ31AnxLulrrs_Bxs0wVtzxLJ2Urn2U39o-XwwjIxJ3elxQ/s320/Flower+Kitchen+Nook.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen Nook Flower</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvpaw6w6a8HxeCEoZLw2dUndlc3l4YL5mwqhFxjNTDQtk6IZzKkfaAqvgtgsOsJcwD0dsOZo_bVbHXGXzZz_PYI7mZc9hdSyjUOiEXi1fGEdPGHZ8UGyhq1P9Vcff0MzMqAX72ReGre9M/s1600/Arichoke+Flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvpaw6w6a8HxeCEoZLw2dUndlc3l4YL5mwqhFxjNTDQtk6IZzKkfaAqvgtgsOsJcwD0dsOZo_bVbHXGXzZz_PYI7mZc9hdSyjUOiEXi1fGEdPGHZ8UGyhq1P9Vcff0MzMqAX72ReGre9M/s320/Arichoke+Flower.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c;">Artichoke Flower</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> What I really enjoyed about painting these was the process of colour mixing and also what I call "the confidence of completion", that is, I am so very famous for having unfinished paintings lying around, but when you make such a small creation, it's possible to actually finish it in one sitting. All of these are oils on wood, and the background is van dyke brown on balsam, the various grains adding their markings depending also on the layers I applied. The pink Art Nouveau Flower sold at the Commons Christmas Fair, and I hope to bring the remaining flowers and any others I can complete to this weekend's Agricultural Fair at our Community Hall. </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Because the wood is 1.5" deep, these pieces can be hung on a wall or door, or simply stand on a shelf or mantel to display. I have so many ideas for more, and they are helping me prepare for my larger paintings!</span><br />
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-64273554864877432032016-10-19T00:44:00.002-07:002016-10-19T22:38:19.997-07:00To Sell or Not to Sell<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span data-offset-key="b9rmn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Pricing art is such a difficult thing...I am still not very versed in this aspect of creating and subsequently selling....and after my second annual participation in the Thanksgiving Art Tour, I wonder if I have overvalued certain works. This year only one painting sold, and yet I sold loads of my art cards. Here is what I sent to print before the tour:</span></span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="b9rmn-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="color: #4c1130;">I found this a very</span><b><i><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: magenta;"> <span style="color: #0c343d;"><a href="http://www.artbusiness.com/pricerealistic.html" target="_blank">good article</a></span></span></span></i></b></span><b><i><span style="color: #e06666;"> </span></i></b><span style="color: #4c1130;">on how to price art and will continue to assess and adjust as I go along. Input from viewers is really helpful, and honest opinions too. The main thing is to keep painting and progressing and not worry so much about the other part, and just keep developing my niche by putting it all out there. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span data-offset-key="b9rmn-0-0"><span data-text="true">I'm not by any means an established full time artist. I have to work at my part time job as well as all the casual hours I can manage to stay afloat, and paint when I can in between. I will do this same tour again next year, seeing as it really is the only time I show my art in one place to the public (aside from the Nanaimo Art Walk in December) and even though far fewer people showed up this year than last year, I still enjoy the discussions about art, the fun of welcoming people in to show my work, making new connections...and the inspiration that takes over afterwards....the inspiration to forge on with my painting.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">And here is the cozy little studio, from outside and in:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span data-offset-key="b9rmn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Having to regroup and reassess my direction, I went yesterday and spent what I could on more wooden boards and canvases. I'm struggling with sadness this week for a variety of reasons...the passing away of another person I admired a great deal..he was only 54. Through the fog of wondering what it's all about, the never ending questions, getting back to making ends meet, and trying not to stop long enough to allow a sinking anxiety to creep into my psyche, I know there is still some small spark of joy within me as I'm always able to muster it to the surface to interact with others, but another side of me is shrinking from social opportunities...my own company is all I want during the majority of my free time this month. I'm tempted to remove the internet from my home, and venture further into the isolation of just painting. </span></span></span><br />
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<span data-offset-key="b9rmn-0-0"><span data-text="true"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Tonight I worked a bit on this piece, inspired by the movie</span> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABNB3zw5BAo" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Mustang</span></a>. <span style="color: #4c1130;">There is a scene in the movie where the girls are made to dress conservatively and they express their distaste for being strictly disciplined. This scene really affected me from many angles...the defiant emotions of the young women, as well as the subtle beauty of the colours of their dresses, their flowing hair and the backdrop of a celedon green wall. It will be interesting to see what I manage to capture from my impressions of this moment. </span></span></span><br />
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-39717626523051202982016-10-07T03:40:00.000-07:002016-10-07T16:00:18.958-07:00Rising to the OccasionMany months since I last posted in my darling blog....I've been mostly home in bed this week, battling off an aggravated asthmatic headache and cold that has tried hard to kidnap me.....the timing being nasty and cruel...but I think I've beaten it back. My car seems to be having sympathetic symptons...good old faithful Rosie needs a whole new battery, she's stuck in the driveway sulking.We both need a recharge.<br />
I suppose I'm deeply in blog debt, owing news of almost an entire year. I'm more one for posting solely on the subject of art over the details of my life, but it's all been a stream running through. This year I had the most fabulous summer, thanks to my mother visiting from Italy...so much to write about that ....in another post, to do it justice. On another note, I've contended with disappointments, restlessness and awakenings, as well as the sad fact that precious people have passed away around me this past year....some I've known well, others barely, but all these losses have personally affected me enough to jump start my heart, my life, my promises to myself and to others. I suppose this is the gift we give most when we pass on...for those remaining to cherish the wonder of life, to live well during this brief spin and hold memories dear. We can say we already know this a thousand times but so often, it's only closely-felt mourning that truly and vividly reminds us.<br />
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So, staying true to my blog world.... more on the subject of art.....<br />
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Almost all my large pieces that were unfinished at this time last year remain unfinished, with two days to go to my participation in my second Thanksgiving Art Tour, and I'm glancing around my little studio cabin, noticing that my offerings this season are undeniably scant. I'm afraid of being embarrassed, of people wondering why I'm even in the tour this year, but I've resolved not to welcome visitors at the door with a flurry of excuses such as:<br />
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It's been a busy year, I worked many many hours at the library, I had a long holiday in the summer with my mother, I took weekends aside to visit and host friends, I couldn't get my muse to waken, watched too many movies, don't know where this year went, so often too tired after working and commuting....blah de blah diddy blah blah blah BLAH!<br />
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I will say instead:<br />
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Welcome to the life of an artist, something anybody can choose to be. Unpredictable, often dormant and unreliable, but always magical. This is what I have to show for now, and more is on the way. Enjoy your stop, have a look and tell me about yourself! <br />
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The fact is I did go for long stretches without having the time or energy to paint. But in August all that changed, a fresh perspective opened up for me, and I began to paint a series of small works. I discovered the joy of painting on wood block and panels, and forgot about working on cloth canvas for the time being. I found that doing small pieces was a zen like and calming process, fueled by the confidence of completion, there was the practice in mixing colours, such as learning off by heart that viridian and raw sienna together offer up the most varied shades of muddy browns. I started to study mandalas, and found a way to include them in my small works, something I plan to explore more. The mandala works from the centre out, creating ripples from the middle, and it's about choosing paths and relying on instinct, following your inner guide, and realizing that everything that goes around comes around, every action has a reaction, and beauty is possible in everything.<br />
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As the deadline of this weekend draws near I'm doing my best not to give in to stress with less than 24 hours to go....the cellophane I've ordered for my cards should be here by now, without it I won't present so nicely...the pressure to serve food at this event is high, but with three days of people marching through my home, I can manage to offer some simple treats and hope that's enough....I accidentally dabbed a smudge of red paint on already finished work, so need to repaint the edge....and I have to repair a painting that a door jam fell through and ripped. My cat peed in the middle of my leather chair in the living room, and I have to scrub it out with baking soda and dish soap....the bathroom is filthy, the yard needed a mow it's not getting.... <br />
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Still, while it may look as though I haven't painted much, what you witness right now is the onset of probably my best upcoming year, if it can remain one of health and narrowly avoided misfortunes.<br />
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Below are pictured all my current small works, with a little story to go with each one. I am finally steadily in the habit of sitting down now nearly nightly at my work table at the living room window, I have a wood stove this winter to keep me comfy and cozy, and the stage is newly set.<br />
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Spring Mandala ~ Oil on Wood Block ~ 10' x 10" </div>
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My first mandala of the year, I had visions of blending soft greens and grays. The effect of leaving some of the original pencil markings close to the surface reminds me of the beginning of the whole process, and so I resisted the initial urge to paint thickly to hide them. I'm reminded here of gentle renewal and appreciation, of blooms early in their opening before they burst into summer colour.</div>
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Hare ~ Oil on Wood Panel ~ 9" x 8" </div>
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I wanted to paint a hare and not a bunny but something made me morph the two....Much as I expect to paint more whales after my first whale, I think I will revisit the hare in another of its incarnations. Blues and pale lilacs took over, rendering a need for a burst of colour in the orange. Is it sitting on a hill, or a giant egg? Not sure but it's in a happy place and what else matters? </div>
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Owl ~ Oil on Wood Block ~ 10" x 10" ~ SOLD</div>
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I had been subdued by a night long headache when I began painting this owl....unsure of the stance to use, I looked at photos online, and found this pose, but as I began to paint, and my headache went away, I created my own sweet little owl face, not quite a burrowing owl or a saw-whet, but one with it's own wide eyed expression, and it is certainly giving you a good long stare. You may have to answer for yourself if you engage for too long! After posting it online in another venue, I received a request from an old track racing friend who now lives in St. James, New York, to purchase this piece. So this little owl, after hanging in my studio for the Thanksgiving Tour, is flying away to the USA. I have printed it as a greeting card for those who wish to keep this wee wise bird close by.</div>
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Sisters ~ Oil on Wood Panel ~ 16" x 16"</div>
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Deep down I think I enjoy painting people, portraits and figures a great deal. When I do, it's always straight out of my head, though I'll refer sometimes to old paintings to see how the skin tones may have been achieved, or the fold of cloth, etc.I'm always a bit surprised by who comes to life. These two sisters are from another era, and the skirts just flowed....the elder sister is the protective one, the younger prone to mischief I think, but here they share a serene and bonded moment. </div>
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Girl in Green Vest ~ Oil on Wood Panel ~ 12" x 12"</div>
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I'm not sure where this girl came from...she is a soulful person but also wary...I painted her slightly off centre so she is standing to the side a bit with an inkling more space on her left, in the direction she is glancing. My sis says she reminds me a little of her eldest daughter, my teenage niece, and it's likely I did take my cue from her. I used a stencil for the "window" but when I lifted it, the paint had seeped and run beneath....so I'm obviously needing lessons with that...I ended up repainting the window by hand. </div>
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Morning Coffee Mandala ~ 8" x 8" ~ Oil on Wood Block</div>
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This mandala was such a joy to paint...I wanted gleeful colours with impact and the result is very energizing. I can't think of any other title for it. Stained in Vandyke Brown all around the edges, it has a woodsy look.</div>
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Woodchick ~ 6" x 6" ~ Oil on Wood Block</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVBh37DLJSEnlrStbZ_jMXpEbcGy0POdyCmDk9dcfKw4rmG0RLh-1gNrlQOBp-FajYZM0-Yw1mFHazCGk660YEwvElP-kSpG6DJxEMh1q0UDVTUvOnTj0lLGTrunSAqxESYG9NBnbDTE/s1600/Woodchick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVBh37DLJSEnlrStbZ_jMXpEbcGy0POdyCmDk9dcfKw4rmG0RLh-1gNrlQOBp-FajYZM0-Yw1mFHazCGk660YEwvElP-kSpG6DJxEMh1q0UDVTUvOnTj0lLGTrunSAqxESYG9NBnbDTE/s320/Woodchick.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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Then along came Woodchick....I used a mandala grid to start, and loved painting this little bird on wood. In fact, I've enjoyed painting on wood so much I don't know when I will return to canvas...but I will eventually. </div>
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Shorebird and Flower ~ Oil on Wood Block ~ 5' x 5" </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYeygGbVCH7ItjYgmVVOpegpPUK-cXE27jRs0r0bV5kUpJAUm6otnwggSLfhnT3HanyYsnvz3PU0ERKaJmHoe7x-4d-BXBNtQNwg_XRWBVsuDuDYltuxKuiPzoWNCboOXr2z02oSVtAQ/s1600/Shore+Bird.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVYeygGbVCH7ItjYgmVVOpegpPUK-cXE27jRs0r0bV5kUpJAUm6otnwggSLfhnT3HanyYsnvz3PU0ERKaJmHoe7x-4d-BXBNtQNwg_XRWBVsuDuDYltuxKuiPzoWNCboOXr2z02oSVtAQ/s320/Shore+Bird.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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So far this is the smallest size I've painted on...and it was a concentrated effort, I embellished the markings on an otherwise standard Killdeer shore bird. I wanted the feeling of 70s Danish art, and I think I came close!</div>
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Fluff Tail ~ Oil on Wood Block ~ 4" x 6"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgBa9n9hXv1zSK69O1rAO9ThjQxRB-8K5NUwU0xakiPuWm4dWHP95VcbrBSTUldIJcOglUae8eA-DWqWSRx8aBXaPtWOae2TL9bsxS_WDv35X25LqSDBb5MTuKAUdP5YnHllbu5umbZg/s1600/Fluff+Tail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKgBa9n9hXv1zSK69O1rAO9ThjQxRB-8K5NUwU0xakiPuWm4dWHP95VcbrBSTUldIJcOglUae8eA-DWqWSRx8aBXaPtWOae2TL9bsxS_WDv35X25LqSDBb5MTuKAUdP5YnHllbu5umbZg/s400/Fluff+Tail.jpg" width="280" /></a></div>
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I think the last painting I have time to finish before the tour, this little piece was nearly named Cat With Tongue Sticking Out but the tail took up enough room to earn the title. </div>
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I'm going to rest now, clean my house, sign and price the art and look forward to an enjoyable weekend.<br />
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*** </div>
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-61605223737134980902016-02-18T21:28:00.000-08:002016-02-19T00:29:53.744-08:00Klimt With a Dash of Schiele Once Upon a Time in Vienna<span style="color: #783f04;">Reading <u>Lady in Gold</u>, although harsh throughout, also brought to the fore for me all the different associations I've had with both Klimt and Schiele in my life.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTB5j7hVFLg8hRuy-OJcXB8vvWr2i6oq_S-h4O_aB1PSKo8sZevN2dybp3jST_fjdEzYG1NGj260zKhJxCij-_Pb0Pxvjv8mqHt7bMRe9BBilVcMIg-K5DrtfpADWMYi_b9qgjrUsDAg/s1600/portrait-of-adele-bloch-bauer-i%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTB5j7hVFLg8hRuy-OJcXB8vvWr2i6oq_S-h4O_aB1PSKo8sZevN2dybp3jST_fjdEzYG1NGj260zKhJxCij-_Pb0Pxvjv8mqHt7bMRe9BBilVcMIg-K5DrtfpADWMYi_b9qgjrUsDAg/s320/portrait-of-adele-bloch-bauer-i%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #660000;">Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">I was in Vienna in the summer of 2007, and went to both the Leopold
Museum and the Belvedere Austrian Gallery all on my own after having
both my heart and my wallet fully broken at the time....determined not to let it get
me down, it was the summer I told myself that no matter what setbacks
happened to me in life, I would always have art. I was unknowingly one
year too late to see the first portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, as it had
been rightfully retrieved the year before...but I did get to see a
number of Klimts and Schieles.....artists I had always been drawn to....
how I wish I had studied further earlier and knew what I know
now....instead I jaunted lightheartedly through the galleries at the time,
enjoying the works for their colour and composition, wondering only
mildly about the painters themselves. Klimt's patterns in the dresses, the colours and the bohemian shapes of his luscious and raw women, all made my head swirl. I also remember I was struck enough by
the vulnerable aggression in the body language of the subjects painted
by Schiele to lie in my hotel bed that night ruminating about what sort
of worldly torment he was harbouring. Having met with something
uncannily profound while staring quizzically at this painting, my silly personal romantic misery abated as I broke free of my own attachments:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5gPtoFEfrXp21axorJTjbFUgfaspEP7r-9Yg0oqBpnQJgUL4mWfLwkjzoFJQ9zoCY9GhkCgnpV0zqy9e8wk4ouNYVjAPIaiF2PCPGvN0mN0KP69BPwxJjFIaEmT0AL_N9Md2AAdE54g/s1600/Schiele+Lovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU5gPtoFEfrXp21axorJTjbFUgfaspEP7r-9Yg0oqBpnQJgUL4mWfLwkjzoFJQ9zoCY9GhkCgnpV0zqy9e8wk4ouNYVjAPIaiF2PCPGvN0mN0KP69BPwxJjFIaEmT0AL_N9Md2AAdE54g/s400/Schiele+Lovers.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47;">Lovers ~ Egon Schiele</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">Being a
typical gift shop loving tourist back then as much as now, I purchased two books that I've kept for nine years in great condition...I also
purchased an exquisite china mug with a print of Klimt's Judith on
it....packing it in my suitcase as a totem to triumph over love left ungained.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzDZ3xeBjs53nxVSZ7wJxqIGplXQNydXrNcKV7ld08c8Avgg8I7d2LxiTVv-p5lszmFMwbqqEp291lCii8l4QfUfeS8guhdlrm3dQbzMXlWOfp6ULjCakvAAu6O3dZ0NvkvX9U02qbHU/s1600/Schiele+Books.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzDZ3xeBjs53nxVSZ7wJxqIGplXQNydXrNcKV7ld08c8Avgg8I7d2LxiTVv-p5lszmFMwbqqEp291lCii8l4QfUfeS8guhdlrm3dQbzMXlWOfp6ULjCakvAAu6O3dZ0NvkvX9U02qbHU/s400/Schiele+Books.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0000ee;"><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="color: #660000;">Books from Vien<span style="color: #0000ee;">na</span></span></span></span><u><br /></u></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9KVhFNcO4JjzM6Snwt5SC2Msbo3he9j10ud-8zw8gbU_Nn9-oIPsVwN2YttCQkm4usNXNgGHR9OUG9AdcImU42nKoIAt3Z5Sl28w_WeM1eBdyLnMRMF-J9omI8uGcopkEJeFpU8PqQQ/s1600/judith.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9KVhFNcO4JjzM6Snwt5SC2Msbo3he9j10ud-8zw8gbU_Nn9-oIPsVwN2YttCQkm4usNXNgGHR9OUG9AdcImU42nKoIAt3Z5Sl28w_WeM1eBdyLnMRMF-J9omI8uGcopkEJeFpU8PqQQ/s400/judith.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judith ~ Gustav Klimt</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">Ironically, in 2015 when we moved out of the blue house, I sold off a lot of
things as part of our stripping down to minimalism, and out went the
Judith cup which over 7 years had developed a mild crack....then, while
babysitting for a young friend on this past New Year's Eve, I spied it
in her bathroom being used as a toothbrush holder. I felt a little pang
of guilt and regret at selling off my Judith souvenir when it had meant so much to
me and represented such a lovely visit to Vienna. But at the same time I
knew the china cup was now in a home filled with appreciation for art, where on
one of the walls hung another Klimt poster of his painting <a href="http://tannenwald./"><span style="color: #274e13;">Tannenwald.</span></a></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04;">Living on this beautiful gulf island now, I appreciate even more Klimt's paintings of landscapes and trees, when at first it was his women as subjects, in their flowery gowns a la <a href="http://www.messynessychic.com/2015/07/15/dressing-the-woman-in-gold-the-unknown-bohemian-designer-behind-the-paintings/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Emilie Floge</span></a>, that captured not just my own imagination, but were the very eye of the storm that propelled his works to fame. Still, here is one of</span> <span style="color: #783f04;">my favourites, aspen trees that seem to move like a swarm of starlings....is it an assertion of his style against the onslaught of criticism, something he dealt with as an artist ahead of his own time? :</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"> </span> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5dGQ-wbpKAcJxBwlaGNTMC6d_9Djuc9jTCmOI40eeTYive4RP0a9ULnL5q1moifgRXmCQe-kikfhW978542HoUSIVfejGL_Ah6Bq6FlgpN59FM6Ip2sV3Ww69nHhTlQ9NP21-UZpn1M/s1600/Coming+Storm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5dGQ-wbpKAcJxBwlaGNTMC6d_9Djuc9jTCmOI40eeTYive4RP0a9ULnL5q1moifgRXmCQe-kikfhW978542HoUSIVfejGL_Ah6Bq6FlgpN59FM6Ip2sV3Ww69nHhTlQ9NP21-UZpn1M/s400/Coming+Storm.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #783f04;">A Gathering Storm ~ Klimt</span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">And another painting I adore is his Water Nymphs...and don't be surprised if you see me copy the dotted pattern of their shrouds in one of my own paintings soon.....!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4wbg5m-FPDousURfq5RcTw6N6I4Ta7SQZq1PUV3CLw6pnSqf3RvYZCIW9rWnEXb-Il8rZLjutVheTOYHLbVqI6hJwhfPPMEZUcl4VJH8s9dLe2kVzkAdk5aUqp9W-y5_NNZksUl7SRU/s1600/Water+Nymphs.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4wbg5m-FPDousURfq5RcTw6N6I4Ta7SQZq1PUV3CLw6pnSqf3RvYZCIW9rWnEXb-Il8rZLjutVheTOYHLbVqI6hJwhfPPMEZUcl4VJH8s9dLe2kVzkAdk5aUqp9W-y5_NNZksUl7SRU/s640/Water+Nymphs.jpeg" width="392" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water Nymphs ~ Klimt</td></tr>
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<b><span style="color: #274e13;"><i>Art in all its forms flows through us and onward every day </i></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #274e13;"><i>in the tiniest and most enormous of ways. </i></span></b></div>
<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-91149105283737993212016-02-18T19:44:00.001-08:002016-02-18T19:44:30.947-08:00Excerpt on the Plight of Refugees from The Lady in Gold by Anne-Marie O'ConnorI recently finished reading <u>The Lady in Gold</u> by Anne-Marie O'Connor. It's a book you can't emerge from without feeling as though you've been giving blood. Just as I'm speechless when a close friend loses a family member, and there are no words with which to face or soothe the shattering grief...I can't summarize the impact of this book....much of the history we think we sort of know already...when really we've never known a great deal of it at all. I tried hard not to sink into depression as I read about so many lives of supreme grace, talent and intelligence, once thriving in a city that was the epicentre of cultural achievement and artistic freedom, being nightmarishly snuffed out or falling to suicide during a time on earth that was consumed by the evil madness of the Nazis. I cried a lot reading this book.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhT0kL3Svf4hYLAC0YuF_s_pmI9GiDka3BIVSUXx9xUgs8WAsAk1GONSAUUilb4lTrcQprX7YfiXWoSBPdhFjd_X54C0ad-7rDj5IAWGuG9rMtcK2xIWCvEunLYG0Kl4ZMPiYyds7mDCo/s1600/Lady+in+Gold+Book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhT0kL3Svf4hYLAC0YuF_s_pmI9GiDka3BIVSUXx9xUgs8WAsAk1GONSAUUilb4lTrcQprX7YfiXWoSBPdhFjd_X54C0ad-7rDj5IAWGuG9rMtcK2xIWCvEunLYG0Kl4ZMPiYyds7mDCo/s320/Lady+in+Gold+Book.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
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I felt an unsettling unease about the scarce passage of time and the fragile idea that history can't repeat itself in so many different scenarios....because we still see it today, people exhibiting intolerance, fear, entitlement and bigotry. But thank goodness... there are always people who respond with help and have done so in the past. This passage from page 160-162 from <u>The Lady in Gold</u>, recounting the memories of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emile_Zuckerkandl" target="_blank">Emile Zuckerkandl</a> in June 1940, reminds us of that:<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"> 'But the Germans were closing in on Mount Pellier, and Emile had already fled, hitch hiking, as his mother, exhausted from surgery and wilting in the heat, sat on their suitcase by the side of the road.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> A train packed with refugees took them south. Emile found a man who took them to Bayonne with his family in exchange for gas money. He dropped them at the harbor.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> It was a sweltering day. Bayonne was crowded with refugees. Parents walked forlornly from boat to boat, holding exhausted, uncomprehending children and whatever possessions they could carry.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Emile found a place where his pale mother could sit. Then he walked down the docks, begging crews to take them - anywhere. Captain after captain told Emile, no, we're not allowed to take refugees.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Emile headed to the town square. A maelstrom of sweating people with nowhere to go sat in cafe chairs on the sidewalk, fanning themselves.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Two familiar faces stepped out of the crowd: Alma Mahler and Franz Werfel! Emile was as shocked as they were, and they embraced warmly. Werfel was Jewish, and he and Alma were escaping too. Emile told them he had lost Berta. Werfel listened, gazing at the thousands of others in the same predicament. Tears filled his eyes. Alma, hot, tired, and irritable, snapped: "Why don't you give up on your Jewish love of the neighbor?"</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Emile felt as if he had been slapped across the face, though Alma's anti-Semitic cracks were well known to all of her friends.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Werfel glared at Alma, and Emile fled.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Back at the harbor, a crowd of people milled around a merchant marine ship. The captain was a lean, good looking man in his mid-forties, with arresting blue eyes. He listened, stony-faced, as refugees begged him to take them. Behind him was<i> The Kilissi, </i>a freighter filled with green bananas packed in crates. The captain glanced away impassively. He was under strict orders not to leave the harbor. A German U-boat had just sunk a cargo ship. It wasn't safe.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> Perhaps the refugees sensed hesitation in his refusals. Please, they begged. The Germans are drawing near.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> The captain sighed wearily. He looked up at the ship, and at the faces of his crewmen, who were standing against the guardrails, watching him expectantly.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> "<i>D'Accord </i>" the captain said finally, "I'll take you."</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> A roar went through the crowd. The crew jubilantly began to throw the bananas overboard. The refugees pitched in, and a cascade of green bananas splashed into the water. Hundreds of people poured into the boat, with no questions about identity papers or money. Finally the crew raised their hands, shouting, "No more!"</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> There was a small cannon on deck, and the men strained to push it into the harbor, to avoid giving German vessels any pretext to attack. It tumbled into the water with a mighty splash, and the crew took their positions.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> The captain headed out of the harbor, going toward the Bay of Biscay. The passengers had no idea where they were going. The deck was covered with people. When Emile told the captain his mother was recovering from an operation, the captain invited her into his cabin, where she lay on the floor, exhausted.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> The freighter hugged the shore to avoid German U-Boats. There was a storm that night, and waves washed across the front deck. The captain ordered the people to crowd inside, where there was barely room to stand. He steered through the pitching sea, his handsome face grave and focused, looking up only to tell Emile where he could find his mother an extra blanket. He let other women join her, until the floor of his cabin was covered. Emile found the captain very <i>chevaleresque</i> - gentlemanly.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> By dawn the storm had abated. A few days later the captain steered into Lisbon. <i>The Kilissi</i> anchored offshore. No one was permitted on land, except the tired, sunburnt captain, who walked off the boat stoically with stern-looking local authorities. The refugees remained onboard, hungry and exhausted. After a few more days, they were ordered to board a much larger French ship that was to take them to Casablanca.</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"> The refugees filed up to the deck in their filthy, wrinkled clothes, under the gaze of <i>The Kilissi'</i>s crew, now in freshly starched uniforms. As Emile walked off <i>The Kilissi</i>, the crew stood at attention and gave a formal respectful salute to them - the weary tattered rejects of Europe. Tears sprung to Emile's eyes at this small show of gallantry. The refugees began to sing "The Marseillaise", and Emile jubilantly added his voice: "The day of glory has arrived!" '</span><br />
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So.... I choose to take from this book strong convictions for myself to move forward with...inspiration, courage, compassion and persistence, and above all, wonder at how art is so intrinsic to our identity throughout our ongoing history on this planet. <br />
<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-67800659646134134512015-09-25T17:15:00.002-07:002015-09-25T17:27:17.145-07:00What to Do When the Rain Comes <span style="color: #45818e;"> <span style="color: #274e13;">It was a Saturday closing in on September, and my good friend from Nanaimo was headed over on the boat to have a painting night with me. Before she arrived I worried we were going to have another one of our famous Gulf island blackouts...after a long summer of drought, I now lay curled in my bed with my dog, wearing my thick knitted slippers and listening to soaked branches whack the roof , and began wondering if it was possible for my fish pond to overflow. </span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9yNWOUV-k2Ms6U7U9bru7tzpTnQnUEt-1auqV0h8tHBQeko1iPXu10ZUjLVdzO3ItXBRcZoH3EQE2keysZ2OfH7xyYAl7SGmB1Lc3c-2iZSUD3dV930ZQ5PJw-9CegfBNO_1Yh61Wo0/s1600/porch+grey.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9yNWOUV-k2Ms6U7U9bru7tzpTnQnUEt-1auqV0h8tHBQeko1iPXu10ZUjLVdzO3ItXBRcZoH3EQE2keysZ2OfH7xyYAl7SGmB1Lc3c-2iZSUD3dV930ZQ5PJw-9CegfBNO_1Yh61Wo0/s400/porch+grey.jpeg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rain at Last at Wildwood</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">I clicked on my iPhone and found myself reading an article about 71 Syrian refugees perishing in a truck in Austria. Horrified, I clicked from news article to news article about the mounting refugee crisis in Europe, and the different drastic approaches various governments were taking - the hounds and fences Cameron was resorting to in England and France, the wall they were building in Hungary. Little did I know that a week later, with the international response to the humanitarian disaster expanding at the rate of lightning, alongside news of Germans handing out chocolate and singing vilkommen at their borders, I'd be getting closer to volunteering for a group on Central Vancouver Island who wish to sponsor refugees to our area. </span> <br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Yes, all that lay invisibly and inconceivably ahead, but for now a suddenly harmless rain storm was brewing in the yard, and my even more appreciated friend showed up at the door laden with delicious food and drink and we hugged hello and got comfy in my cozy cabin and each took up our painting projects, hers a blazing red-haired self portrait in acrylic, mine a rustic sign for my studio. I had salvaged an old wooden frame which seemed perfect for the words DEER TRAILS to fit into. I discovered a delightful font called <a href="http://www.fontsquirrel.com/fonts/garton" target="_blank">Garton </a>to mimic for the lettering (also chose it for the back of my new greeting cards ~ more soon on those). Somewhat awkwardly I traced out the font over the image of a deer in oils....and this is how far I managed to come, having set the unfinished sign aside until next week: </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkQ33z1qDN1X4GI5PMvngV2003FVG6NJvu-9sg3y7wFCfx1Y5lDXV4IgT1HSR83qtPbTm2648eTU6J1u-pSsB8P8OS6fa0w_u_mMQCG2VFdybQJlAvdcHcdbgGF2BvoSONGXuG9XMAfI/s1600/sign2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihkQ33z1qDN1X4GI5PMvngV2003FVG6NJvu-9sg3y7wFCfx1Y5lDXV4IgT1HSR83qtPbTm2648eTU6J1u-pSsB8P8OS6fa0w_u_mMQCG2VFdybQJlAvdcHcdbgGF2BvoSONGXuG9XMAfI/s400/sign2.jpg" width="347" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DEER TRAILS Sign in Progress</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">A day or two later, I awoke to sun in my yard, and sat in my wooden chair on the recovering green lawn and squinted into morning rays of light....a glorious September summer is still lingering here. The tourists have been trickling slowly away, the quiet is returning. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xakHlGHgByTTk47tAyow-e1NU-wkXtWkvbK7fhT1Wozq7C1cg3-6RhFx-oFFnBVmen1D-wgCknuJ6WweruIMV7LRZ_ySNIo3klt5wFXCIRXOHYTK0e1K7zAMHhoZDV4xmOoxk419kDM/s1600/yard+sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xakHlGHgByTTk47tAyow-e1NU-wkXtWkvbK7fhT1Wozq7C1cg3-6RhFx-oFFnBVmen1D-wgCknuJ6WweruIMV7LRZ_ySNIo3klt5wFXCIRXOHYTK0e1K7zAMHhoZDV4xmOoxk419kDM/s400/yard+sun.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front Porch in Late Summer Morning Sun</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">I have sent high resolution photos of eight of my paintings to the printers, and the other day was able to pick up the final proof sheet. I cut the samples down to cards, added olive green and natural brown envelopes, and placed them in cellophane to be sure I liked the final look. I do, and have given the go ahead to print 125 of each card design! I've just taken a quick rather blurry snap shot of them to give you an idea. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmAr9KI7a_zOg4qp-cjpIfDtOgXJ1qogESq1XLPn4waDG2HFY9tp9KTLCaVio_cyTRzBV9BAO7HppBTdV0EL7aKJkLm-Cho1QMN7wCQ1VhvGZViUUk9botlKCRUEIN_csHEGp3PyDBas/s1600/cards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmAr9KI7a_zOg4qp-cjpIfDtOgXJ1qogESq1XLPn4waDG2HFY9tp9KTLCaVio_cyTRzBV9BAO7HppBTdV0EL7aKJkLm-Cho1QMN7wCQ1VhvGZViUUk9botlKCRUEIN_csHEGp3PyDBas/s320/cards.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blurry Photo of 8 Deer Trails Greeting Cards!</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">When I get them back from the printers properly cut, I'll be placing
them into a few local shops hopefully, and selling them directly out of my
Deer Trails Studio at <a href="http://studiotour.artsgabriola.ca/" target="_blank">Thanksgiving </a>and every Saturday after that. You
are welcome to come and visit, beginning next month! The next job that lies ahead is painting the little shed that will house the art shop. Keep an eye out for the sign at the gate! </span><br />
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<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-18488839970554325322015-08-13T00:07:00.001-07:002015-08-13T00:18:51.861-07:00The Turkish Panel and Unfinished Finishes<span style="color: #e06666;">I did tell you I am a snail of a painter, did I not? If you don't think so, look back to my post of January 24, 2012...yes, when I began this painting. To recap...back then my parents had been to Turkey, and one of the places they went to see was the Sultan's Palace, Topkapi Sarayi in Istanbul, with its "Fruit Room" harem painted during the Tulip Reign in 1703-1730. I could only look it up in a picture book, but I could smell the sweet hookah shisha right away and wanted to make my own panel. I only got so far with the painting... I remember being on my knees with the canvas on the floor, painting the little pink roses and thrilling at the blending of the oils and the old fashioned patina I was somehow managing. Then I set it aside, the vase not finished, abandoned. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666;">Well, I've deemed this the month of finishing the great unfinisheds. With a glorious unencumbered Monday at my disposal, I went at the Turkish panel again. I spent an entire afternoon reworking the vase...you'd think I was actually throwing the damn thing three dimensionally on a pottery wheel, kilning and glazing it, then taking a cloth and wiping it back to a lump of clay and starting all over again. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFe4nGJ0FMNL9q47-D-eseQFvwDbeMemajR4rMwbGaFyUqT81mIkycKrIA6zhuTgqj3sy_CvGhlgznTDxcBPnHiABIWi1l1ZuTmNeCwdmfJCxpd7bU-kfK5bjz8FNXdYcGoJ_cr2iEN8/s1600/Turkish+panel+real.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFe4nGJ0FMNL9q47-D-eseQFvwDbeMemajR4rMwbGaFyUqT81mIkycKrIA6zhuTgqj3sy_CvGhlgznTDxcBPnHiABIWi1l1ZuTmNeCwdmfJCxpd7bU-kfK5bjz8FNXdYcGoJ_cr2iEN8/s400/Turkish+panel+real.jpg" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turkish Panel ~ Oil on Canvas 24" x 30"</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #e06666;">I want to stop right here and tell you this. My favourite EVER blending medium for oils is the <a href="http://www.winsornewton.com/na/search-results?searchterm=blending+and+glazing+medium&Search.x=0&Search.y=0" target="_blank">Windsor and Newton Blending and Glazing Medium</a>. (I have the feeling I have mentioned this before) It is perfect in every way, for extending the potential of your brush stroke, adding just the right sheen to the paint, and allowing for the addition of other shades to change your colours gently as you go....there must be some Italian word to describe its impeccable consistency...it is slow drying but not toooo slow...so you don't pick up too much of the last colour you put down and pull it relentlessly into the new colour you are attempting to gently blend in. Sadly, I HAVE RUN OUT. And not all art stores have it and I have to special order it. And now you'll want it too and that will make it even harder to get. Anyway, while working on the vase, I went and tried this Gamblin Slow Dry as well as Galkyd stuff, and OMG it drove me nuts. Now I'm sure these are very fab products for their intended purposes, but this creature of habit became a creature of havoc....I created a purple shade that would NOT disappear. It was probably my method and not the medium, but I blamed the medium. I don't even know if I want to start another oil painting without my beloved W & N B & G M. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666;">And so, eventually, the vase appeared as it finally is, and there is no going back. I am at peace with the Turkish panel, but I never did embellish the border with a Turkish tile pattern. In fact on the right bottom corner are famous drip marks that remind me of the sweat that went into this piece...I think they should stay as a lasting birthmark or scar, they might have my DNA in them. Maybe if I keep the painting long enough I will add a tile pattern around the border but for now I will call it finished, though not fully dressed, kind of like John Singer Sargent did with his <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portrait_of_Madame_X" target="_blank">Portrait of Madame X</a>. I can't believe I'm attempting that analogy. But you might enjoy following the link for a bit of fun art history. Even some of the the greatest painters hesitated on finishing touches, on occasion leading to scandalous result. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77-uaUT-pD2f4sFa_hH0durcALqNKnKKx7kTvo-Sa7aKLhzkYbFBDM6tPDbDW-9dMQXahYb8l3RKXQT3jmCpLJsncnDtC7KYCRtQf6TVy0LvxhX0KRApE-14XJ_9LlL5mFkJRuKw4jes/s1600/Study_of_Mme_Gautreau_by_John_Singer_Sargent_c1884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77-uaUT-pD2f4sFa_hH0durcALqNKnKKx7kTvo-Sa7aKLhzkYbFBDM6tPDbDW-9dMQXahYb8l3RKXQT3jmCpLJsncnDtC7KYCRtQf6TVy0LvxhX0KRApE-14XJ_9LlL5mFkJRuKw4jes/s400/Study_of_Mme_Gautreau_by_John_Singer_Sargent_c1884.jpg" width="202" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Study of Mme Gautreau ~ John Singer Sargent 1884</td></tr>
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<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-12348050741731784982015-08-04T20:42:00.000-07:002015-08-09T09:16:58.256-07:00Autumn Deer<span style="color: #783f04;">Start of August, up late one evening with <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/liveradio/popup/index.html?networkKey=cbc_radio_2&programKey=pacific" target="_blank">CBC 2</a> on the radio and white wine in my glass...and along came the deer. This time again on a very small wooden board canvas, only 8" x 9". My beforehand sketch sort of doomed this painting to a certain formula...I used small brushes and oil paint, and stood one deer grazing in front of the other...on their own they looked very fine and simple...but on I went and painted the tree in the corner and couldn't get myself to refrain from the oval shape again....as I did with my fox. I'm pleased with the colours...but what is it with me and oval egg shapes? It's the egg I really wish to burst out of, but I keep enclosing my images inside this ever reappearing shape. Egg is a symbol of earth, birth, renewal. Well, OK, I guess that's not such a bad thing to include in one's art. It must mean I see all creatures as precious and sacred, maybe it's my idea of a halo. Maybe I want to protect them in a bubble. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzei6NKOfYgMQkWZKk60_9URVa-gxWEbpwbHIP1-XV8t26Zc8R_o4yWKJwXVihujhtmYXMLn9IpeIqpsv5bD3VfpFqWR0kJqrq3CqgVcy2PER0Pch6egmG28Gpv3I1eSrDl1Mw0UgNlXc/s1600/Autumn+Deer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzei6NKOfYgMQkWZKk60_9URVa-gxWEbpwbHIP1-XV8t26Zc8R_o4yWKJwXVihujhtmYXMLn9IpeIqpsv5bD3VfpFqWR0kJqrq3CqgVcy2PER0Pch6egmG28Gpv3I1eSrDl1Mw0UgNlXc/s400/Autumn+Deer.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Autumn Deer ~ Oil on Wood 8"x 9"</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #783f04;">Navel gazing aside, I'm pleased I managed to finish this between two evenings...and I was able to emerge slightly from the depression I've been feeling all weekend. Sometimes I feel stranded and lonely, disconnected and melancholy, regretful and anxious, insecure and afraid, restless and panicked. What a glorious menopausal buffet! You can actually mix and match all the adjectives in any combination you like...for instance anxious and panicked creates a certain je ne sais quoi delirium all of its own. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">Somehow I eventually pull myself out of it, usually by doing one or more of the following, in no particular order:</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~going for a jog with my dog</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~calling a friend to come over</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~listening to music</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"></span><span style="color: #783f04;">~going to the beach with my dog</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~reading poetry </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~painting</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~staring at my fish pond</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~lying in the sun </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~watching a movie</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~having a hot bubble bath </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">~clocking in at the library and working a full shift </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">If I feel soothed, or useful, usually I can begin to feel better. And meditation brings gratitude.</span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">So, now I have completed two smaller works on wood, and I will place the undone painting, Grizzly in the Wheat, back on the easel. This one is going to take some backbone. More to come.</span>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-88951627511451047392015-07-27T00:18:00.003-07:002015-07-27T00:19:44.384-07:00Blue is What Made Me Beautiful<span style="color: #073763;">I have the feeling I shall return to the idea of painting a whale more than a few times. As is always the case with me, I begin with an image and a palette in my mind. I do a sketch, I think of colours. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763;">This time I would do a blue whale...and originally I wanted to use misty greys, portland greys, violets and muddy blues and beiges and create a very subdued image. I sketched my whale...and then proceeded to paint it tentatively....until along came the perfect blue! Prussian blue, and a whole whack of it....smoothed out across the back of my whale until I turned my round-headed brush in circles upon circles and produced the texture of my true blue beautiful whale. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3ByDaSIvp4KTsALZKBkhzcIJly0k4liTlwW6tSRNrTycEDLVehTMVvTEIrWaRHwyhAPPLAN9s7E744NHuViOKX-etDWupyAqx2RfG1GO4CZmtADBHjCsek8dONXx7Lov7Ha2ZCCYWVA/s1600/blue+is+what.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3ByDaSIvp4KTsALZKBkhzcIJly0k4liTlwW6tSRNrTycEDLVehTMVvTEIrWaRHwyhAPPLAN9s7E744NHuViOKX-etDWupyAqx2RfG1GO4CZmtADBHjCsek8dONXx7Lov7Ha2ZCCYWVA/s400/blue+is+what.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue is What Made Me Beautiful ~ Oil on Canvas 28" x 22"</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #073763;">So many thoughts went through my mind as I discovered my whale with her spout of butterflies. She is a creature of great strength and fragility, mystery and gentleness. One of the last things I painted was her eye....and I just sat down one night with my brush, and it opened up in front of me and blinked happily....and I was pleased with the wisdom in it, and the joy....the whale is the guardian of the oceans and all the unknown creatures that float within it...she knows about magic that we humans have no access to. She is a singular, confident, never-minding giant, and when she tells us that "Blue is What Made me Beautiful", we know what she means, and she knows us too. </span><br />
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-7602321048999913322015-07-12T00:38:00.000-07:002015-07-12T00:43:28.916-07:00Red Fox in Winter<span style="color: #666666;">It's still summer, but I finished the little painting of the small red fox and have titled it Red Fox in Winter because it seems like a winter scene somehow. Actually, it may not be finished entirely, I still have to paint the sides a bit more....I didn't go very thick at all with the paint, especially in the circle surrounding the fox...I've been tempted to add another lighter layer upon the teal background but I'm liking the wood grain showing through. And he needs a shadow underneath him still...he looks like he's floating! Sometimes I just stop when I think I'm done enough and worry that continuing might wreck the painting. This is another aspect of the "precious complex" I have...another painter pointed out that I suffer from this affliction, and he is so right...it's an uptight inability to really let go and mash through a painting fearlessly with no worry of the outcome...I paint carefully along like a timid illustrator, and more and more I realize my naive style is repeatedly revealing a folk art quality because I like safe shapes and tones and simple portrayal....that is fine....this is the exciting part of self discovery that comes with every finished work. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SG11wpNDyw4yMeJEPPtZllbgQ4tcox4YZeb4InDTYZ48IMWVph1ypT2kqxf8iAGmTBy7cYsLFg3kErDv9Ww6Onc2raIwfsqaHNVm9d9myktRpzUXCvYP8Rjh92rTh5HPg4AApwHaWlQ/s1600/fox+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SG11wpNDyw4yMeJEPPtZllbgQ4tcox4YZeb4InDTYZ48IMWVph1ypT2kqxf8iAGmTBy7cYsLFg3kErDv9Ww6Onc2raIwfsqaHNVm9d9myktRpzUXCvYP8Rjh92rTh5HPg4AApwHaWlQ/s400/fox+light.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red Fox in Winter ~ Oil on Wood 10" x 8"</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #666666;">I have four more paintings I really want to finish before the Thanksgiving Tour...Blue is What Made Me Beautiful, Grizzly in the Wheat, Miroslava, and Chandelier Lady of the Woods. On top of those I hope to do several more of these smaller works on wood, perhaps an animal series...there is so much I want to get done but it will be a miracle if I can even finish two more works, because I am a SNAIL. I truly am a snail. Maybe I should paint a snail. </span>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-49474253977264181302015-07-07T14:49:00.001-07:002015-07-07T14:50:34.434-07:00Chandelier Shadow, The Lady in the Woods and The Small Red Fox<span style="color: #134f5c;">Well over a year ago, when my father was on his way up from Saanich to visit me, he asked if he could pick me up a canvas from my favourite art shop in <a href="http://www.artstore.islandblue.com/" target="_blank">Sidney</a>. I said sure, this time why not bring me a bigger one than I usually go for. Well, he showed up with this massive canvas, bigger than anything I'd ever thought of approaching...in fact I have no measuring tape handy, but I think it must be close to 40" by 60"! My dear father's ambition and faith in my potential....</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Well, it sat in various places while I ignored it....leaning against an entire wall in the small bedroom back in the blue house, then shoved mercilessly away in the shed here at Wildwood. But since I plan to renovate the shed for October, I moved it out and let it sit against the wall in my living room, a visible white elephant! I've been unable to get a grasp on what to paint on it....should I go abstract, or do a detailed landscape, or, or, or...maybe even paint the white elephant? </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Then one night, as the sun began to set, a bath of deep warm yellow light washed into the living room, and the shadow of my chandelier appeared in gigantic form upon the canvas, casting sweeping woodsy curving shapes across it, and then I saw her....a woman gliding gracefully through the woods. I grabbed a pencil and traced her form. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">The Chandelier Lady of the Woods has slowly come to be:</span><br />
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The next night I started in on her face and upper body:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQtD6v8jEDXQdwFdjVV3KpneUzfFeGPQ2ZzEckcR9dmqXjNtgF8GvyQ2Ht15_vTxU1QGShfAGFlE5BG8gM2n0X0h7i2EtGIC5ktZ-nz8_cxeCKoezm26fplkYFE_5hzFTrOKESkiB0yM/s1600/deer+trails+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQtD6v8jEDXQdwFdjVV3KpneUzfFeGPQ2ZzEckcR9dmqXjNtgF8GvyQ2Ht15_vTxU1QGShfAGFlE5BG8gM2n0X0h7i2EtGIC5ktZ-nz8_cxeCKoezm26fplkYFE_5hzFTrOKESkiB0yM/s320/deer+trails+2.jpg" width="236" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">A vision has appeared for the whole canvas...I know almost instinctively how it will unfold...the colours, the entire palette, her green dress.... the only question being whether she will be walking alone or with a spirit animal at her side...either a deer or a fox, I figure.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">For practice, I took a small light wooden canvas and began painting a little red fox. On it's own it's a sweet little painting in the making, and this canvas is only 10" x 8". More and more I'm loving the feel of oil on wood, the way it sinks and glides and comes up so vividly, the way the wood grain guides my brush and welcomes my flow of line. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Perhaps there will be room for such a fox in the big canvas, or a deer or a wolf or other creature. Using the small canvas is a quick way to summon up creatures and ideas. In any case I've added more inventory to my world of unfinished works....and can certainly say that no size remains an obstacle, from teensy to towering!</span><br />
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-46506788780878201112015-06-28T17:00:00.000-07:002015-06-28T17:02:52.826-07:00 Exotic & Erotic <span style="color: #7f6000;">I began this painting before we moved.....it's based on two entwined erotic figures of the <span style="color: #783f04;"><a href="http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/240/gallery/" target="_blank">Khajuraho Hindu </a><a href="http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/240/gallery/" target="_blank">Temple </a></span>in India. It's done in oils and I still feel it requires a lot more detail. K loves it
just the way it is and other friends say it looks complete. That's pleasing to hear, but I
keep hovering over the idea of fine tuning it. I admit, there is some
peace and beauty in it's vague, relaxed style and simple palette.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjqt11xKOtWD7LfwMdrY_FABPZzKjqjGraoO56bze7EUufp-8FAQ6fVRvstxtseRxpOHf8M10iOszsYUXBrgkC-nIXyKIc_OjnmQXyLyNz4zu36HWU52NhRMTzDAq9ztD71Y6YfYFSmQ/s1600/Khajuraho+Kama+Sutra.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjqt11xKOtWD7LfwMdrY_FABPZzKjqjGraoO56bze7EUufp-8FAQ6fVRvstxtseRxpOHf8M10iOszsYUXBrgkC-nIXyKIc_OjnmQXyLyNz4zu36HWU52NhRMTzDAq9ztD71Y6YfYFSmQ/s400/Khajuraho+Kama+Sutra.jpg" width="273" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khajuraho Kama Sutra ~ Oil on Canvas ~ 24" x 36"</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #7f6000;"> Right now it sits on a long wooden table in my bedroom, casting a
serene and sensual effect next to my bed. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #7f6000;"> When the new store called <span style="color: #bf9000;"><a href="http://artsgabriola.ca/events/hive-emporium-gallery-opening/" target="_blank">THE HIVE</a><a href="http://artsgabriola.ca/events/hive-emporium-gallery-opening/" target="_blank"> Emporium</a></span> opened up in the village here, I was excited to see they were carrying a line of linens imported from India called <span style="color: #660000;"><a href="http://www.maiwa.com/stores/main/index.html" target="_blank">Maiwa Handprints</a></span> (via the Granville Island Store Maiwa in Vancouver) as well as <span style="color: #660000;"><a href="http://www.alchemyfashions.com/our_story.html" target="_blank">Alchemy</a></span> patterned cotton dresses, also imported from India. As soon as I saw some of the Maiwa patterns, I was keen to add them to my room as a compliment to this painting. I purchased a red and black patterned bedspread and brought it home...to my delight it really contrasted beautifully with the golden browns. A few days later I returned to discover an even more well suited bedspread with a similar palette of muddy grey and beige tones. Well, one must alternate....</span><br />
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<span style="color: #7f6000;">I'm strongly drawn to Indian patterns and design, in textiles especially. Obviously one of the dresses was soon to follow, and I justified buying it because the price was very reasonable and I really should have a nice summery dress for the farmer's markets coming up! Below, the dress and the red bedspread, enhanced by a pair of perfect cotton arm gloves made by Scott of <span style="color: #783f04;"><a href="http://tiedupanddyed.com/" target="_blank">Tied Up and Dyed.</a></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #7f6000;"> Incidentally, Scott lives just down the
road from me and is a seasoned Thanksgiving Tour attraction. He will be
#7 on the Tour and I'm #6....it's nice having him so close by. </span><br />
<span style="color: #7f6000;"><br />We should each be reasonably easy to find, since our neighbourhood lies just off South road, close to the Village, and less than a ten minute drive straight up the hill from the ferry. I decided I needed to create a better house sign than the one that exists already, and sat down the other night with a small wooden board to paint out my house number. This is the result:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #7f6000;"></span>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-39330615262029179262015-06-26T23:35:00.002-07:002015-06-28T12:53:27.289-07:00Our Parting <br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"> Hellebores in the early spring window at Wildwood:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"><span style="font-size: large;">S</span>o........We moved from the blue house, and were accepted as tenants at the new little cottage last December. During the course of the move, K sat me down in the empty living room to tell me that he felt our paths were diverging, that he loved me still but he needed to live by himself. I wasn't surprised by his decision....ever since the discovery of his degenerative spinal condition, which threatened to severely restrict his mobility and his speech, and his partial laminoplasty surgery in July 2013, our life together slowly began to change. I was now partner to a man who was living in constant daily pain, who couldn't sleep through a single night without sitting up and rocking in agony, who couldn't work, and who went through a huge psychological tranformation....K was evolving into a stronger man in many ways, resolved to take better care of his health, practicing a strict protein diet and daily exercise, and, eventually, when he began to enjoy a brief period of improved physical health, was jogging up to 8K, and even decided to go sky diving twice! This intense experience opened up his soul and spirit and his vision of where he wanted to go next in life. But by December 2014, it became clear again that he would need yet another spinal operation to alleviate his compressed spinal cord. The initial operation was not complete, and it needed to be finished....his motor coordination was deteriorating. K wasn't ready to carry on with the unbalanced dynamic of our lives together, and wished to concentrate on his recovery and rehabilitation as a solitary man. At the same time, his dreams and plans were changing too, and he couldn't envision us remaining a unit without far too much sacrifice on one side or the other. And much as I didn't want to agree, I knew that I actually did. Loyalty, denial, deep passionate love...none of these could stop the momentum of our parting.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Simply put, the last two years have contained a lot of heartbreak and growth. K now lives a short drive away, and both of his daughters have begun their own lives in Nanaimo. We are still seeing each other, and tentatively navigating the next course of our lives. Both of us now agree the separation was necessary, in fact it may be what we needed to preserve the best of our partnership, and if not that, it's what we needed to give us each the chance to concentrate on our individual goals and self sufficiency.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">In May 2015, I travelled to Victoria with K for the completion of his final laminoplasty, and was there with him when he woke up from the operation. Because, in spite of it all, we still are who each other has. He now begins another long haul of recovery, and I'm dealing with my own challenges....</span><br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><span style="color: #134f5c;">I haven't been writing in my blog,
which anyway has always portrayed the beautiful aspects of our life and
never the adverse details...and I prefer it that way, since my blog is
really about art, and not a confessional or an open book about the raw
moments of our private lives. Still, what I'm going through obviously
greatly affects my creative output, my artistic outlook and my ability
to thrive in my own element. Settling into my new space, breathing life
again into the aesthetic of my home and designing my own daily agendas....this took some time. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgB2dHy8SyRj9ZCCkyRJPpkLW8ShdsljN5-cjvkdQtifNUNo9OWg922Ya0mGNS7yLQ3zr4SZ5MIq43aYXDKAvNvHaBS6Ob9rehfgQahxNjdW-70GVqQ5P5Rf1XZ_dwBqTImBZq3xUwWQ/s1600/vase+of+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgB2dHy8SyRj9ZCCkyRJPpkLW8ShdsljN5-cjvkdQtifNUNo9OWg922Ya0mGNS7yLQ3zr4SZ5MIq43aYXDKAvNvHaBS6Ob9rehfgQahxNjdW-70GVqQ5P5Rf1XZ_dwBqTImBZq3xUwWQ/s400/vase+of+flowers.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers From My Garden Early Summer Evening</td></tr>
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</span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">After working three years for the library and slowly moving up into a permanent position of 28 hours per week, it was all snatched away in a moment on June 1, when a wave of layoffs were rolled out across the Vancouver Island branches. Now, my hard won handle on stability suddenly appears as a mirage again. Not only that, some of the enforced changes to scheduling will dramatically limit the earnings of many workers.....4 hour work days and uneven bi-weekly shifts designed to cap employee's earning potential are evidence of a system bent on following a corporate business model rather than honouring the ideal of a community oriented public service. Myself and other coworkers are left disillusioned, feeling devalued and financially strapped, but of course we will hang on and ride the wave and hope for a fair outcome in the fall when the main branch opens after extensive renovations. I've been lucky, having been deployed to the small branch on my little home island for the time being.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">All through my life, I've always landed on my feet. So here I am in the cottage at <b>Wildwood</b>, with two cats and my sometimes dog, 24 goldfish, and four frogs who make regular appearances. </span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GQ1JyuAxtVFWhkJMjZrnxB8JRb5yZt87FuToUeuZWBKRCHziSBHx8kAfdwShisvBkQNBM8AmcO6rFkLb-dJis-yCNVWXAI1JfrrxQVznzscuwRDrUhIGREMTUehtw8GgVogmQleWQrI/s1600/smudgy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GQ1JyuAxtVFWhkJMjZrnxB8JRb5yZt87FuToUeuZWBKRCHziSBHx8kAfdwShisvBkQNBM8AmcO6rFkLb-dJis-yCNVWXAI1JfrrxQVznzscuwRDrUhIGREMTUehtw8GgVogmQleWQrI/s400/smudgy.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smudge Under the Dogwood Tree at Wildwood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #134f5c;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">My living room is yet again my art studio....that is, I have two easels set up and I use the dining room table as my painting table. I barely found the time or motivation to paint during this first winter in my new home, and knew I needed a goal of some kind. So in January on a whim, and because I happened to have the money to pay the fee, I signed up to take part in the Thanksgiving Studio Tour. This meant I would have to finally join the Arts Council after all these years of being an outsider. It was a way to force myself into a commitment to produce regular finished works. I can't keep waiting months for that spark of inspiration...I need to start living like a serious painter with a day job, and keep my paint tubes out all the time, sit down after dinner or with my morning coffee and dab a bit at my canvas. There is also the porch:</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQ-XoHdbrdh9I4ge5N-u9UNfalwYSshCaxZ3O62AWk3U1cVeiWaSxDwlYjJGHVREcfztUv5eUvJUd86MTOydIgHYMdeGw4BD4PL3KObxkeKRaqyw_bJHekFhK5vWeLy40V_fDU_s6sq0/s1600/porch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQ-XoHdbrdh9I4ge5N-u9UNfalwYSshCaxZ3O62AWk3U1cVeiWaSxDwlYjJGHVREcfztUv5eUvJUd86MTOydIgHYMdeGw4BD4PL3KObxkeKRaqyw_bJHekFhK5vWeLy40V_fDU_s6sq0/s400/porch.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smudge and Seeker Hang Out While I Paint a Whale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;">Until this coming October, I plan to finish 1-2 paintings a month (I know, I'm a snail) , I need to renovate the tiny wee outside cabin (strong deja vu with this one... I ache just a little when I think of the pretty cabin out back of the blue house that I remodelled from scratch), I need to do a print run of new card designs. It's a LOT to get done in less than 4 short months. I shall keep reminding myself it's my first tour, and I have to start somewhere. </span><br />
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">And no, the Grizzly in the wheat is not finished. Nor is Miroslava, but I here are a couple of completed pieces....the Cat and Thistle I wrote of months ago...</span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNSAHbsG76ZxdaNnGKnc8Wlvos5vSOlEn27QLTTZx6PNEZPEw3ZL5Tx_HUB7rKrJkTv76W6lfdsuyU89BBxtW8jdzIWf5vpncYPDTU5q0gOkI4sTp2N6nUwwdO8GcZC9EKwWnZ4eOO_U/s1600/Cat+and+Thistle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNSAHbsG76ZxdaNnGKnc8Wlvos5vSOlEn27QLTTZx6PNEZPEw3ZL5Tx_HUB7rKrJkTv76W6lfdsuyU89BBxtW8jdzIWf5vpncYPDTU5q0gOkI4sTp2N6nUwwdO8GcZC9EKwWnZ4eOO_U/s400/Cat+and+Thistle.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cat and Thistle ~ Oil on Canvas 16" x 20"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #134f5c;">....and this one titled "Swan Tree", inspired by Botero, whose smooth colours and balloon like forms have influenced me lately. </span><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_tGN1pb6bcrLQeyzgxcRUfnlToqVzb8qjGcP2A-VMztwPJ8nV0SdWYddu-8jvZmgKpJ5qFDENBC9zTSJIgRuGjBPTn8KH_rqxBACI_ws06fIk1P8wXNsDBgVZ1Wv25rD9NgCLIdJQTI/s1600/Swan+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_tGN1pb6bcrLQeyzgxcRUfnlToqVzb8qjGcP2A-VMztwPJ8nV0SdWYddu-8jvZmgKpJ5qFDENBC9zTSJIgRuGjBPTn8KH_rqxBACI_ws06fIk1P8wXNsDBgVZ1Wv25rD9NgCLIdJQTI/s400/Swan+tree.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swan Tree ~ Oil on Canvas 18" x 24"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;">I have a few unfinished pieces on the go, small and large works. More shall be posted soon. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;">So I am back, this blog is awake again! </span></div>
<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-66622957506401601992014-10-29T00:14:00.000-07:002014-10-29T00:16:31.083-07:00The Grizzly in the Wheat<span style="color: #b45f06;">Fall is thundering in. Wet orange leaves are stuck to the roads in slippery ridges, the rain is relentlessly whipping at the trees, and I'm running devotedly with Seeker in the pitch dark with a flashlight only minutes after getting home from work. </span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #b45f06;">We need to buy firewood and cistern water, but we keep putting it off along with any other new purchases for comfort's sake. We're on the verge of paring down from every angle. Everything is on hold this week as we're hoping strongly that we're about to shift gears in our living arrangements. We want to exist in a smaller space, with only the very essential things we need. We know it's possible to live even further within our means, in order to manifest our midlife dreams. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhMwX5eBO-m3Eer4SUFJtNBeehBeHlkMw2hUJgy0NnjruKBwUR0dJUStogAbBrel846sm5DPiN3Kpozdn1blR3XsE3dcZYZzeyKKphlJAKikDk0wQxLx-bbLxBB1Fx9ZIXVhyphenhyphenBCQMxrA/s1600/morris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUhMwX5eBO-m3Eer4SUFJtNBeehBeHlkMw2hUJgy0NnjruKBwUR0dJUStogAbBrel846sm5DPiN3Kpozdn1blR3XsE3dcZYZzeyKKphlJAKikDk0wQxLx-bbLxBB1Fx9ZIXVhyphenhyphenBCQMxrA/s1600/morris.jpg" height="296" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">It so happened last week that we came across, by the word of a good friend, a smaller and more economical place for rent that, since having been invited in to see, we are distractedly smitten with....I began to visualize the way we would care for this place, being just a one bedroom with a captain's kitchen and an overall carry-cabin character of plywood and windy chilliness...we are feeling so ready to adapt to closer quarters and create a year-round garden that we can really honour, and there is a fenced yard that offers privacy for us and sanctuary for our pets. I know I can upcycle the interior with fresh paint and pure minimal</span><span style="color: #a64d79;"> <a href="http://www.newsociety.com/Books/S/Simply-Imperfect" target="_blank"><span style="color: #a64d79;">wabi sabi</span> </a></span><span style="color: #b45f06;">decor. If only we can manage to land this perfect cabin that felt like the right new home as soon as we walked in the door. I'm nervous even to write about it because we have only been communicating with the landlord through emails so far, and I find that the hardest thing to do....making sure you are able to present yourself , your reputation, your financial reliability and your intentions clearly and convince him you are a super good fit for his needs as well as yours. Our habit is never to force anything or push too hard for a desired outcome, but just to allow the universe to let things fall as they will.....not to build up too much attachment and to know that if one thing falls through, something else is waiting. But, <i>eeeeeeek</i>, <i>sod to all that</i>, this time I can't help it and I hope we do get this place. We have friends in the neighbourhood crossing their fingers for us too. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;">Well, we will know in a matter of days if the call will come to meet up and make arrangements, we have the deposit ready to go and just have to keep busy and not drum our fingers beside the computer.</span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #b45f06;">So to keep my mind diverted, I have begun to paint a grizzly bear in oils. There are certain enormous and intimidating animals that visit me in my dreams frequently....orcas very often, and grizzly bears reoccur just as much. I think both creatures will wind up laid out on my canvas, because they are so deeply embedded in my subconscious. Several times, I've nocturnally conjured up the image of grizzly bears romping through prairie wheat fields, not exactly their natural habitat, but the image is really gorgeous and so I'm going with it. Here is the beginning of the adventure, from a broad perspective, then in closer detail: </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HcSWMoST9qF4oClqNMeDaXg8X0FykI6fj1m84njNXPeSK9LxDG7c0wVcBS2Me3mtmwcfCOAg63rkTYptPqiCvxPiGIOAdRE35MjIHhg3de7LtDPIG4Tzgu4rJtJ-reNTRASlEkhvR3Q/s1600/bearwheatsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1HcSWMoST9qF4oClqNMeDaXg8X0FykI6fj1m84njNXPeSK9LxDG7c0wVcBS2Me3mtmwcfCOAg63rkTYptPqiCvxPiGIOAdRE35MjIHhg3de7LtDPIG4Tzgu4rJtJ-reNTRASlEkhvR3Q/s1600/bearwheatsmall.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4dFLwuCi1pwLXeYX3SU4zTEJ2WUBLl6AP0clHtLd4s3WBc1i7MZMBBhdrDtUVmlx_Pgybw2ZGzLawYAKE6cq7Jv_z6dbA1038sKX_OEmyUJD3gMw4TgCFhE-9Z9Ad2vRa1XmyOz6AMc/s1600/bearwheat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL4dFLwuCi1pwLXeYX3SU4zTEJ2WUBLl6AP0clHtLd4s3WBc1i7MZMBBhdrDtUVmlx_Pgybw2ZGzLawYAKE6cq7Jv_z6dbA1038sKX_OEmyUJD3gMw4TgCFhE-9Z9Ad2vRa1XmyOz6AMc/s1600/bearwheat.jpg" height="400" width="302" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;">The canvas is actually <i>square</i>, 24" x 24" ...and the bear is centred....I'm visualizing a harvest moon or a bright sun behind him, and perhaps some magical elements that shall contrast with the mild realism I've already displayed.</span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #b45f06;">Yes, this week is all about visualizing a magical outcome!!</span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="color: #b45f06;">Meanwhile, I have finished The Cat and the Thistle, and have asked my good friend and neighbour</span> <a href="https://www.blogger.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #a64d79;">James</span></a>, <span style="color: #b45f06;">who is the talented professional who photographed my Otter in high resolution, to do the same with my most current work. I'll post his photo of it in a few days, after he has finished with it. I know he will make it shine in its very best light. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #b45f06;">OK, I'm sipping ginger tea and listening to the wind die down outside. I'm working the closing shift tomorrow at the local library, so I can sleep in a bit in the morning. Goodnight, world. xo</span><br />
<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-58986696325534043932014-09-19T20:05:00.001-07:002014-09-19T20:05:11.943-07:00Groove Salad and The Cat and the Thistle<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Here is a link for you. Check out <a href="http://somafm.com/play/groovesalad" target="_blank">Soma FM</a>. It's an online radio platform. I've selected the station Groove Salad....there are others that might suit you better. I have to tell you, this station helps me paint. I can't say I would play this particular station just for listening pleasure...I'm more an alt folk or dub girl. But the easy confident flow, the river-like beats of this station help me to paint. Once the brush is moving, and your mind is going in deep into the blending of the oils and the colours, the music gently pushes you along. </span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">A few days ago I began painting this cat. I've had Balthus on my mind a lot, had my books of his art slung open all over the place on the sofa....and somehow got inspired to do the cat. I'm adhering to a Balthus-like palette (my take on it anyway)....pale greys and mauves and beige and lemon yellow....oh I love the muddy blending of his work, the lack of lines between figure and background. My friend plucked me a round-headed thistle this summer and I left it to dry in a little earthen vase. The shades of green on the leaves fascinated me...silvery blues and olive greens all on one stem...and the delicate pale mauve of the round thistle head itself...so charming. It only so happens that at the time of this painting unfolding, Scotland was going through a huge shift with the possibility of establishing independence from the UK. Having an English mother and a Scottish dad, my blood did churn in anticipation but I hadn't been so close to the core of the struggle to have a real attachment to either outcome. I found my instinct leaning toward the NO vote, not because of a liking for the status quo but because I felt the impending change would create more of a fissure and division...anyway, it's been voted on and means far more to those living their lives directly in the region. Well, it will be hard of me to look at this painting without feeling my Scottish roots tugging at me, a reminder of the time in history I chose to paint the cat and the thistle. I'm keen to finish it, but here it is so far... </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF4lP-z9r-YZUTTL20Mc4TMWEk9NveC9SSA6DH524vPMT8VHps1_hmKJAl7YumKxpDJJdxHXHRaakOm8Q_ZNY9Wr1Ol8tkrImuIslYhP9LizpHx1nDqNnALrNj0ZwpMut2SMZARjZGT8/s1600/Catandthistle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijF4lP-z9r-YZUTTL20Mc4TMWEk9NveC9SSA6DH524vPMT8VHps1_hmKJAl7YumKxpDJJdxHXHRaakOm8Q_ZNY9Wr1Ol8tkrImuIslYhP9LizpHx1nDqNnALrNj0ZwpMut2SMZARjZGT8/s1600/Catandthistle.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">It's been a long drawn out summer. No rain whatsoever...and our well suddenly dried up in August. I had been frugal with water before that, but once we dried up of course I couldn't water my beloved garden anymore. The little lush green world I had nurtured so carefully fell to drought.The grass turned brown. My plants withered. We were without running water in the house for a week until our darling landlord came through for us and installed a huge cistern. Out here friends and neighbours always come to the rescue and I was able to shower down the road at H & J's house. Meanwhile I had almost killed my garden...like a bad mother abandoning her child, I turned my back on it and refused to look anymore. I stopped mowing my magical maze. I figured autumn would slowly creep in and sweep the yard with leaves and hasten in the cold winds of the turning seasons, sweeping my guilt away with it. But no, it has been hot and dry for two weeks into September. Now I open my front doors onto my panorama of neglect every morning and rush off to work.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">K has grown restless and wants to move off the island. I could be open to the idea but I have always been content in this little house, burrowing in like a nestling, making the best of it. As renters, it's very hard to beat the situation we have in this spot. Affordable rent, a wonderful landlord who allows us to have pets, a beautiful serene forest setting.....we have a little cabin out back that had been trashed and treated poorly...and I decided to renovate it....my one fulfilling house project. I painted the walls a soothing pale green and my artwork seems to suit the back drop. I call it my zen room...it's a place friends can drop in for tea and respite, or to vent. It was so satisfying to build this gorgeous space, I'm moving along to the little back bedroom next, which I plan to paint pale yellow, then put in a twin bed and dresser and curtain dowel with lovely curtains. Pics of that to come when I'm done, but for now, here is the zen room:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Life is what you make it (what a novel concept!!) ....I'm content to create a beautiful world wherever I am, and not spend every waking minute wishing I was somewhere else. But of course I love my partner, and can very much respect his urge to move on....island life has other ways of taking a slow toll on you. People come here seeking a certain privacy, but the community that is so close and supportive on one hand can also be smothering and oppressive on the other. Anonymity is an illusion and more easily attained in the busy urban world.</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">More art to come. I hope you too are making art wherever you are, because....</span><br />
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #8e7cc3;">“Life is sometimes hard. Things go wrong, in life and in love and in
business and in friendship and in health and in all other ways that life
can go wrong. And when things get tough, this is what you should do.
Make good art.”
<br /> ―
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1221698.Neil_Gaiman">Neil Gaiman</a>,
</span><i><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/20415110">Make Good Art</a></span>
</i><br />
<br />
<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-33613760554943384172014-07-07T23:20:00.003-07:002014-07-07T23:20:32.066-07:00The Otter on Wood<span style="color: #741b47;">I've failed at being a blog writer. Hmmm...not a good opening line. I've neglected my blog. More true. And bloody obvious. How can you fail at something you don't do? You can't. So, here I am again, with a painting. It's a start. But I don't really know where to start after not recording things for so long. My garden is beautiful this year. Here is our front porch on a rainy weekend, doused in greenery:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJennq8hcFC4syiT0KD0QGrlHXzbhhPpcVo4iRonQRQGIHrPrKnB0Ei7u7kRC0jk8u_shL2sq9VHE2mKIf_Z0_Go9RkJ2AFvHd9M6vnLYWZQ7JK56HAY1R02skCJIuS_L8UC0t6Wb0Eg/s1600/yard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsJennq8hcFC4syiT0KD0QGrlHXzbhhPpcVo4iRonQRQGIHrPrKnB0Ei7u7kRC0jk8u_shL2sq9VHE2mKIf_Z0_Go9RkJ2AFvHd9M6vnLYWZQ7JK56HAY1R02skCJIuS_L8UC0t6Wb0Eg/s1600/yard.JPG" height="400" width="311" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47;">We've come through a lot and are doing better. I love my island life. My partner is stronger and fitter and healthier than he has been in a year. I'm jogging every day and at the library a lot. Anyway, an otter. One of my favourite spirit animals. Oil on wood! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmq2VdjnFvkyklA27XQjrjHMWKf8r7rml4CpbH8AOzEg18-RqeX03xjipE8w4AG095GMqlSFnfL8ajb92h1TLgZcwQpOtc0rpRt_3TxfEWFSbS5zNqMl8pTrqxgdJk-92-sixrLAlpB0/s1600/Otter+Delux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDmq2VdjnFvkyklA27XQjrjHMWKf8r7rml4CpbH8AOzEg18-RqeX03xjipE8w4AG095GMqlSFnfL8ajb92h1TLgZcwQpOtc0rpRt_3TxfEWFSbS5zNqMl8pTrqxgdJk-92-sixrLAlpB0/s1600/Otter+Delux.jpg" height="215" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Otter ~ Oil on Wood ~ 23" x 12" </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #741b47;">There is more to come. I promise. </span></div>
Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-1697300302029338452014-04-06T00:50:00.000-07:002014-04-06T00:50:19.615-07:00Otter on Wood, Beginning...<span style="color: #783f04;">I've started an otter in oils, on wood. Just the under-drawing. This will be my first try at oil on wood. I think I should have put down a base before starting, to keep the oil from simply absorbing into the grain. I just whipped out my pencil and began to draw on the raw wood. The creature has come easily to me. Maybe because I'm intuitively reaching for joy, embracing curiousity, allowing sponteneity to take over at last, and asserting my femininity....and the otter represents all of this. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04;">My under-drawing for Pink Moon was so pretty on it's own...until the final painting entirely obscured it. This time I hope the under-drawing shines through the finished work...we'll see. I hope it doesn't sit around collecting dust for months. I've already let it sit there for two days. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiAvh-bxdjAGzNkP0joOySTaavF53TEGI1iX25THLBGkUg2Cp-YEZDII1ULew4sW3yORf5o5iqFaBZB45_rqp2kjoLYgYfVUCQozzXEI179pqz7Y3Gqptn7F_EKoGf4ACD4hVpwkKMuI/s1600/otter.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiAvh-bxdjAGzNkP0joOySTaavF53TEGI1iX25THLBGkUg2Cp-YEZDII1ULew4sW3yORf5o5iqFaBZB45_rqp2kjoLYgYfVUCQozzXEI179pqz7Y3Gqptn7F_EKoGf4ACD4hVpwkKMuI/s1600/otter.JPG" height="351" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="color: #783f04;">I've gone almost two entire weeks with no calls in to work at the library, and my only psychological anchor is to make art, yet I waste so much of my free time...K encouraged me to move my studio into the living room, to keep my art front and centre so I can't escape the easel beckoning...and it has worked. A true artist does not know what procrastination is. Nevertheless, my sister sent me a link to this new book titled <a href="http://www.thejealouscurator.com/blog/2013/10/14/creative-block-my-book/" target="_blank">Creative Block</a>. I'm keen to read it because it deals with my own biggest enemy. </span><span style="color: #783f04;">I've fought the creative block for almost two years and I'm suddenly bursting out again, recognizing that inspiration and discipline are partners that can't do without each other. </span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04;">There is one place that I feel at home, truly at home, and if nothing else is going my way, at least I always have my art. So, here sits the otter, and here I go to finish it....</span><br />
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<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-89912617623096367582014-04-03T23:30:00.000-07:002014-04-04T00:18:49.954-07:00Sacred Orca<br />
I've lived on G island for almost 5 years now, and in that time I
have experienced one spectacular orca sighting, which I wrote about in
this blog, I think around February 2012. Prior to that visitation, the
only time I had seen wild orcas was during a ferry crossing to Tsswwassen,
when a pod of nine were spotted during the sailing, and the captain
turned off the engines of the ferry so we passengers could see them
glide past us majestically in the Strait of Georgia, their natural
domain. They were like confident glistening black needles threading
through the sea, stitching together the ocean where they belonged,
gently reminding us we were only a passing ripple in the fabric of their serene and almost perfect world. <br />
Almost every day I try to go down to the oceanside with my dog Seeker, and we trot along the rocks and catch glimpses of sea lions, otters and seals....and I often stare for ages at the sea in all its possible metamorphoses, hoping to have another orca siting. There is nothing like it.<br />
<br />
Tonight
I watched the movie "Blackfish", having taken it out from the library
of course, and in spite of the trailer describing it as a "Mesmerizing
Psychological Thriller"....(I forgive them for doing what they can to
lure people to watch)....I was moved to optimism, I was filled with
hope. I want to believe that we will evolve as humans and that, as one of
the ex-Sea World trainers said, "I think in 50 years we'll look back and
go My God, what a barbaric time ".<br />
<br />
The documentary
recounts the history of the bull orca <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tilikum_%28orca%29" target="_blank">Tillicum</a>, who is still performing at Seaworld in
Orlando.Trainers who had once worked at Sea World have come through
their experience as enlightened human beings, having started out in their chosen career with
pure starry-eyed intentions, and because of such pure hearts they were
able to see what was ultimately wrong about keeping whales in
captivity. This movie revealed the power of experience, compassion and intuition to
change one's mind about exploitation and imprisonment. <br />
<br />
I'm
returning this move to the library tomorrow. I hope you'll sign it out
after me if you have not seen it. Perhaps you'll find it difficult to
watch, and weep for Tillicum who to this day deserves to be returned to an open ocean pen.Whale captivity for the sake of entertainment is an industry that must be put to rest. <br />
<br />
There was a huge outcry over the idea of orcas being captured to show at the 2014 Sochi Olympics, and the plan was dismantled. Encouraging, and hopefully the beginning of the end. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/fLOeH-Oq_1Y" width="480"></iframe>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-81847704649541573502014-03-31T00:46:00.001-07:002014-03-31T00:49:13.898-07:00Pink Moon<span style="color: #a64d79;">I finished this painting tonight, that is, I am feeling it is done, except for maybe a few fine details. The barn owl might be a little too blue. This painting began with the image of the young girl, and her face was best left the way it was early on...I overpainted her in my opinion...but that was OK, as it all began to flow in a sort of vivid style after that. The owls, the salmon, the moon, the trees, the young girl in the deerskin hat....she is bright and optimistic and at peace, her spirit animals are the owls and the salmon....deep down I think this painting is to honour the wild salmon, the owls are the guardians of their brother fish, and so is the young woman. I suppose even the moon is pink because it is here to stay. It just seems right to title it Pink Moon, and many people of a certain age will find themselves singing the song by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXnfhnCoOyo" target="_blank">Nick Drake</a>, which is fine by me. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #741b47;"> <span style="font-size: large;">Pink Moon ~ Oil on Canvas 16" x 20" </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span></span></div>
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-31944744306582167672013-12-15T23:16:00.000-08:002014-03-31T16:40:51.826-07:00Being Here Now, Waiting for the Silence<div style="color: #0c343d;">
Across the world, in Venezuela right now, in the Ukraine, in many places, people are fighting for their right to a fair way of living. For simple freedoms, for human rights, for their dreams, and some are being shot on the spot for demanding something better of their leaders. How is it that they are they, and I am me? It just is. For if I were them, I would be them, and if they were me, they would be me. What I deal with day to day is in no way a struggle in comparison to theirs. Where I live, however, there are still things to fight for, there are human rights to defend, there is nature to protect, and a living to be carved out. The onus is on us, as residents of this amazing part of the world, to preserve what is truly most valuable, to discover intelligent and resourceful ways to be self sufficient and to strengthen the social structure of our communities. They say you must start from where you are, with what you have, and do what you can. So, here I am renting a house on a gulf island, commuting to work in the town across the water, trying to utilize my talents to provide a living. What kind of living do I want? One of peace, of achievement, of contentedness, self-sufficiency and low impact. Should that right be available to all of us? Yes, it should. Then, how?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvUvOz1GK9RbyeU4Q7Ts1zcnh5zC-a1oFPPqQ29slUDGYF_kY-QDEH_cJeGV-g-tVjKMyh-oGFDQT87UdBKU3Qf4kQeIv93EIQEfxFceS_TrKm3-E4_iXZ-vatIR_js1ftZzMWF4OFVc/s1600/lake+cowichan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvUvOz1GK9RbyeU4Q7Ts1zcnh5zC-a1oFPPqQ29slUDGYF_kY-QDEH_cJeGV-g-tVjKMyh-oGFDQT87UdBKU3Qf4kQeIv93EIQEfxFceS_TrKm3-E4_iXZ-vatIR_js1ftZzMWF4OFVc/s1600/lake+cowichan.jpg" height="400" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Summer's venture to Carmanah Walbran Provincial Park</td></tr>
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<br />
One of the first places I came to visit on G Island in 2008 was the home of S and R, then best friends of my partner K. Arriving by bike off the ferry on a hot July day, I got lost trying to find their house, and had to keep asking the locals how to get there. Anyone I asked seemed to know the way, carefully checking me out before answering. While riding around the island in haphazard disorientation, my unfolding surroundings overwhelmed me with nostalgia. The quiet gravel country roads encroached only by by forest, the fresh air and the lack of traffic, the smell of the sea in my lungs...my mind wandered back to my childhood summer holidays spent at Qualicum Beach, where our friends owned the humble beach-front Waskasoo Inn, with its sand-splattered floor tiles and its seaweed and driftwood-scented rooms. Wild and suntanned children of the 70s, we'd bravely march along the railway tracks through the woods until we reached a secret trestle, where the raging river suddenly stood still and formed a pool as serene and deep as a mug of warm milk. We'd dive and swim and hang from tree branches,and shout at our own echoes from the surrounding rock walls ....then we'd wander safely back at dusk on the deserted Island highway, past a pink sunset shoreline view interrupted only by the presence of Mrs. Little's Cabins and the odd motel, to discover my dad and Mr. D returning from a day of fishing for salmon in the ocean...we'd devour the buttered red fish off the barbeque and watch in horrified awe as Mr. D held freshly roasted oyster shells above his head. Barely cracked open by the heat of the beach fire, they would slide slowly out and then suddenly drop down the back of his throat, setting us all screeching with disgusted glee. We'd light fires inside milk cartons and send them off on the outgoing night tide, watching them flicker upon the waves until we could only squint at little pinpoint specks in the dark, confusing them with the stars. <br />
<br />
When I arrived at S and R's house that daydreaming July day, I noted how easily I could have passed it, tucked away and unassuming, an eyeblink of a driveway hidden from the road. I pushed open the big wooden gate in their ten foot fence, and walked into a world that would entrance me all over again, for I thought, right away, this is paradise. A thin but well-worn path crossed a yard overflowing with flowers and vegetables, past a tire hanging from a tree, and beaten down and bleached wooden sheds, bees buzzing, birds tweeting, the smell of soup cooking, a rickety old sunken mobile home covered in rose bushes, with a boot-trodden covered porch offering rocking chairs and sofas, decorated with hanging beads and glassware, candles and animal skulls and batik cloth and stoneware pottery, buckets of seashells, and beach stones piled in the corners of each porch step.. My partner was there waiting for me, and he introduced me to S ~ tall, with friendly eyes and and a lanky build, and R, with her red flowing hair and long colourful hippie skirt. I was invited in for tea, and was fascinated by the humble beauty of their home...so simple, with plywood floors, a woodstove, a small kitchen, yet crammed to the rafters with books and musical instruments and textiles and art on the walls, the sun streaming in the windows to paint everything gold, highlighting a lived-in chaotic assembly of used furniture and unfolded laundry and pets. This initial visit would soon blend in with the many ensuing wonderful days and nights spent at at their place, eating fried local oysters in mesquite sauce, listening to R play the piano and sing while S played the accordian, huddling round the woodfire cuddling Angel the dog, gathering round the table for one of R's home made meals, laughing with her daughter and son, getting pecked on the neck by the lovebird Lucy, helping R organize her school papers for marking, watching S carve his artful handmade jewellery. Always their door was open and always they had friends over throughout the day. Always there to listen to stories and tell jokes and offer a shoulder for someone to lean on, they were, to me, the most exemplary couple ever. Like us, their love of the natural world surrounding them was their passion, and close small community their stronghold. I said to K the very day that I met them, this is how I want to live, I want us to be like them, with an open welcoming home and a strong supportive connection to our neighbours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFrHv4k6iMhF_CSasA2L94qm9Tli1OGK6LU1nLujUjkQ6YfnIRSd6BNZ6Z7MvB2OuXmWZZconHsZ-fefyyR5zSryJUHaaGk0twK-tVXXdjry0ZMQL0phutlgY1mRAPZ0iTv83pl3qm4k/s1600/thistles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXFrHv4k6iMhF_CSasA2L94qm9Tli1OGK6LU1nLujUjkQ6YfnIRSd6BNZ6Z7MvB2OuXmWZZconHsZ-fefyyR5zSryJUHaaGk0twK-tVXXdjry0ZMQL0phutlgY1mRAPZ0iTv83pl3qm4k/s1600/thistles.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thistles in the yard of S & R</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
I suppose I thought, when shortly after that visit I decided to move here, that I was coming back to that sort of an ideal island life, but you would not recognise my old Qualicum Beach today and I'm quite sure that this island is too, alas, slowly losing it's own quaint and isolated edge. Eventually I realized that my romantic vision had already passed by about thirty or forty years ago, and S & R's home was a fragile surviving oasis; they had bought their property years ago and worked hard to maintain their dreams and positively impact their community. As much as we hoped to replicate their frugal and simple low impact lifestyle, it was rapidly becoming a challenging and fading possibility. <br />
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Not long ago on the ferry I overheard another version of the wailing call of the far removed yearning for that future day. This wailing call is the mournful lament of the people who visit this island and hum and sigh about the difficult economy and say how much they would LOVE to move to a gulf island like this but it is simply impossible to do so and make a "decent" living. These are the ones like the man I met at a party awhile ago who said it took him seven years to finally move here because there was no way to build his second home sooner, like the businessman I met in Vancouver who sold his sprawling summer house here because his city obligations never allowed him time to get away to it. The ones who firmly believe that a certain amount of secured wealth is prerequisite or imperative to setting down roots in this fast receding ecosystem of clean water, lovely forest paths, various rocky and sandy beaches, fresh fields that welcome deer, slapping tides that otters roll in, tree tops where the eagles perch, horizons cut sharp by orca fins, dewy earth-scented trails where bike tracks can dry and disappear before the next rider finds them, hidden alcoves deep off the beaten path that house muddy beaver dams, gravel roads that sit silent on a Friday at dusk,small and simple unobtrusive cottages that a woodstove can fully heat, ocean water that welcomes swimmers and row boats, pitch black night skies that offer a million stars per penny earned in a lifetime, as long as you can find a place where the treetops part enough to see them.<br />
<br />
All of these divine and natural joys in life that should be FREE, free to us all while our lungs are still pink and our cheeks still rosy, seem to be the expected full or part-time reward only to a privileged few. And still, many of those privileged few prefer roads over fields, paint over wood, and parking lots over walkways, property lines over trails, and the erection of No Trespassing signs. How did this come to be? Of course some element of economy was needed to sustain anyone living here, but what kind of economy did that need to be? Wasn't it always here already if nature was able to provide, and those living here didn't equate serenity with luxury or enjoyment with convenience? <br />
<br />
Last summer, working for $12 an hour, I had a chance to mow the lawns
of numerous beautiful properties around the island.While I got my exercise I was able to
feel the sun on my body, enjoy gorgeously abundant gardens, smell the beckoning giant froth of the sea and, on one particular day, stand in front of the widest private view of the ocean from a
vantage point that will never be mine or anyone's but the home
owner's...who wasn't living there, and wouldn't be back for six months.<br />
<br />
K and I recently read a book titled <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTP0HkIAy9k" target="_blank">Twelve by Twelve ~ A One Room Cabin Off the American Grid </a><br />
which encompasses an ideal that still struggles to find its space in the wilderness....the idea of self-sufficiency in a very low impact and minimal lifestyle. It is a dream of ours to seek out such a living.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xd7KM7_iwkoLvKPXOjGyL2bLAze6_G0cdsgzUPxDVp_IJEta8Zfr-jZ2TKwqWz4YSlHQxmQWPlk0WdZ9RdBIGVnC5drDhf3u7Zb6zy9V_j3yDE7_P7kjAKob9TWvMiDZ0pQCL9LLSus/s1600/trailer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xd7KM7_iwkoLvKPXOjGyL2bLAze6_G0cdsgzUPxDVp_IJEta8Zfr-jZ2TKwqWz4YSlHQxmQWPlk0WdZ9RdBIGVnC5drDhf3u7Zb6zy9V_j3yDE7_P7kjAKob9TWvMiDZ0pQCL9LLSus/s400/trailer.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of the ferry arriving ~ photo by Sean McFarland</td></tr>
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<div style="color: #0c343d;">
Many enterprising people in society are sacrificing their time and their lives to an unchallenged formula, the formula that separates life from lifestyle, and career from home. They have an eye on the final reward...the comfortable life they expect to live here "one day". Much as I wonder at the roundabout pursuits of these people, their hard work and retirement-aimed goal has made it possible for people like me
to live here year round, to be crazy enough to barely manage to rent a
house in the woods twelve months a year, to wake up every morning seeing
trees and not cement outside my window, to force myself to be creative
and resourceful in my means of earning a living, and to be thankful for
having the very basic necessities with which to eke by while surrounded
daily by the enormous beauty I can never, now that I know it so well,
ever leave for anywhere else, unless we move <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prN8xW_e4A0" target="_blank">somewhere more remote</a>, somewhere that still runs fifteen or twenty years ahead of its wider discovery.<br />
<br />
We remain here, simply surviving, with no guarantee of savings or so-called security, and yet, we actually own from day-to-day what nobody can buy or make or replace once it is gone...pristine, unspoiled nature.<br />
<br />
Unsuccessful at securing a livable income on G island, we rely on my work in town on Vancouver Island, a 24 minute ferry ride away. Being among those who rent here, we're part of the struggling service population, and yet it is the only way we can <b><i>be here now</i></b>. Is it really a worse deal than owning a home we must wait to live in year round , or worse yet not ever want to live in year round? Sadly, I have quickly learned how much the odds are stacked against people like us, and how much the wailing call is a true and valid lament. It IS a struggle to live on G Island through all four seasons if you are not a home owner, retired, a successful business owner, or well-employed across the water.. The pursuit of simply maintaining a meager existence here is not for the faint of heart. A flexible and forgiving landlord is a Godsend and one has to pray he/she doesn't give in to the idea of renting at a higher rate to professors on annual sabbatical or a rotation of international visitors. People earning minimum wage who rely on affordable accommodations on G Island will never see the inside of a $1600/month second story ocean view suite, and can only hope the $800-900 rentals hold steady, the same rentals that only three years ago were $500-$600. The population here is rapidly morphing to a majority of wealthy elderly retirees and off-island recreational home owners, whose symbiotic partner is the necessary service and rental income providing population. The trades, and property maintenance, provide the majority of work for year-rounders, much of it for cash or at rates competing with off-island contractors. Local employers are pressed by long quiet winters to seek the economic advantage of hiring retirees or
teenagers who don't mind $10/ hour, and lack the means to hire working age
renters who rely on a full-time living wage. Unfurnished year round rentals are rare and far between.....ads for September-June furnished rentals asking city prices are increasing, and many people would rather alarm and protect their valuable vacant properties, fearing poor upkeep or property damage by low income renters.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlHxfjYRMXz13fvPJeyUWK6tLmJe4QqQUWm57lC51eVDu2Uifn-JGx2saU83TeEz0yUKxaZA3gStOwdIolivJFwwnTZxMx2H7yK9zr7hTgoopZFi_6nKaMY2qJ2mZ2bXjbdqVJOfFxFU/s1600/house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlHxfjYRMXz13fvPJeyUWK6tLmJe4QqQUWm57lC51eVDu2Uifn-JGx2saU83TeEz0yUKxaZA3gStOwdIolivJFwwnTZxMx2H7yK9zr7hTgoopZFi_6nKaMY2qJ2mZ2bXjbdqVJOfFxFU/s1600/house.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Front Yard </td></tr>
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<br />
Diversity is crucial to the maintenance of strong island community. To dilute it and tip the ship too heavily one way is the beginning of a sinking. <br />
<br />
Almost everyone I know from the city has told me they could never take the risk of living as close to the bone as I do now. It's a massive leap of faith, which once taken, may not offer an easy way out. People will call you everything from crazy to lazy to falsely entitled to doomed, none of which are true, nor should be. Is it wrong to strive to survive on as little as possible, to have a trailer on a huge treed lot and never develop it, and to seek out an uncomplex life in the place you most wish to live? Good friends of ours who arrived here shortly after we did , all the way from Edmonton, eventually left for a more promising life in New Brunswick. A local family who have stretched themselves thin for seven years have announced they are at the end of their financial rope and will be forced to leave this spring.<br />
<br />
My partner, who has lived on and off this island since the 90s, has
witnessed the slow erosion of natural simplicity as it caves in to the
invasion of West Vancouver style transplanted homes, more paved roads
and the erection of NO TRESPASSING signs where once anyone could freely
cut through the woods following only the deer trails. Now marketed and
"branded" as the Isle of The Arts, an optimistic and
exclusively chic generation of commercial artists rely upon the Arts
Council to
promote their work to the tourists and sustain their careers. The
council succeeded last year in packaging their brand by employing local
artists (upon condition they belong to the Arts Council) to paint the
telephone poles along the ferry hill, staking their claim to represent
their commodity to the tourist market. If you are producing art here and are not in the council, you will likely miss out on the fanfare of having your work widely discovered....something for diehard art hunters to consider...it might be necessary to go a little deeper to discover what is hidden in the woods...among my very favourite artists here, is an ostracized drug addict who lives on welfare, who would prefer to remain anonymous. <br />
<br />
Once an island of hippies and wood cabins and small trailers on widely
separated lots, as with all areas known for their natural beauty, the
private ocean views and the tree-felling dream houses were soon to be
sought after. Suddenly offered sums for their properties they couldn't
even fathom, the simple living folk, unsung artists and bohemians of
20th century G Island sold out....and, sadly for the economy, the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCM9RxB3ehQ" target="_blank">peaceful ma & pa pot growers </a>such as our friend S have been increasingly busted out, essentially having their lives upset and ruined for no advantage to anyone. They must take the hard knocks and the punishment, as the greedy masqueraders of the the profit-seeking medical marijuana commercial industry barge in to trample them over and remove all their human rights. As far as I am concerned, pot is akin to broccoli and should be treated as such...grow it at home or buy it from the store, illegal to anyone under 18 to purchase. It's plain intelligence, and the economy would thrive, as well as people over corporations. The people are also let down again as another corporation, BC Ferries, has cut the sailing services to the
island forcing the working class out, and more empty subdivisions shall continue to
cramp in as real estate agents see profit.</div>
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<div style="color: #0c343d;">
Across the dirt road from us, a large circular lot has been carved out deep inside a remaining thin circle of high evergreens. We walk past it and peek across at the motor home which at night glows with a golden light. We've met one of the women who lives there, and we think we've spotted the other one at times. I always think, they have everything already, no need to go any further. Truly, if we actually owned a lot like that, a sweet little cabin or motor home would be enough for us to end our days in and find a community-serving way to make it work. But that's just me and my partner. We're wondering when the chain saws and hammering will start across the road, or if they will at all. So far we just smile and say hi when we see anyone there...we're too afraid to ask if, eventually, the trees will all be shaved, the magical forest stripped, and a West Vancouver lookalike home be erected. </div>
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I wish there was a way we could ALL find the life we want, simple or extravagant, where we want, and when we want it. Sometimes I'm sure there are two types of people...those who shall continue to move toward outer space, and those who shall remain cherishing this rare and fragile pristine earth. Both are adventurous and inventive, but me, I want to work where I live and be here now, build on my humble and simple living days where I thrive the most, for after all, life itself is a rental. The world is discovering how insecure we all are, balancing on a needle head. K and I want to earn our keep here always but starting NOW, and not buy into the delusion of the far removed who may never see their future day. We don't want them to be right, and they don't have to be. <i>I want us to make it here, to make it here <b>because </b>we want for so little and don't want to have too much . And most of all, I want the wailing call to fade away.</i></div>
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Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-9166334498258013842013-07-27T16:15:00.000-07:002013-07-27T16:15:10.117-07:00Solstice 2013 Eases Into Hot Summer and A New Emergence<span style="color: #674ea7;"><span style="font-size: large;">I</span> saw a photo of a T-shirt on <span style="color: #741b47;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/raonasa/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a></span><a href="http://pinterest.com/raonasa/" target="_blank"> </a>and it made me chuckle. It reads <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/363595369886291798/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #741b47;">"I'm Busy. Read My Blog."</span> </a></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">My own version would read "I'm busy. I forgot my blog". For five months!! Well, I didn't forget it entirely as it rose up into the back of my mind from time to time as a quiet guilt-ridden anxious urge, reminding me that I had left so much undone and time was swallowing up the chance to recount anything. In these moments of distant intention, I fell deeper into into the blue funk of avoidance, convinced there was nothing to post as I was suffering the worst creative block ever. Winter, long and arduous, brought on various justifications to procrastinate..... fatigue, laziness, shifting priorities, my unpredictable on call schedule at the library, periods of near starvation, K's accident and discovery of his spinal stenosis followed by his two surgeries to prevent paralysis, stress over the stepkids, discovering the garden as a haven... too much indulgence in earthly stimulations and distractions. The undone promised story of Suzanne Valadon hung over me like an unfinished university paper would have once done. The conviction that nobody cares padded my apathy. Reading my posts and wishing my sense of humor was more apparent, my writing more spontaneous and less studied....yeah, all that and more. Depression. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And then of course just as I was nearing the hope of picking up again where I left off, I discovered <a href="http://pinterest.com/raonasa/boards/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>, perhaps the current day's most time-sucking online vacuum ever. I felt I needed to "collect" ideas for inspiration, build boards such as <span style="color: #783f04;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/raonasa/palettes-for-painting/" target="_blank">Palettes for Painting</a></span> and (as if) <span style="color: #b45f06;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/raonasa/my-art-among-others/" target="_blank">My Art Among Others</a></span>, as well as my current favorite collection, <span style="color: #b45f06;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/raonasa/art-that-breaks-through/" target="_blank">Art That Breaks Through</a></span>. I was on a constant hunt for ideas, colours, styles, that spark of artistic ignition. You can get an idea of how far I wandered into this visual abyss when you see I racked up 65 themed boards, straying slowly from art to imagined closets and flea market finds to gardening perfection. K looked on with mild disappointment, dropping guilt trips such as "You could have started half a canvas during the time you've been on there pinning". He was right. About 3000 plus pins into the addiction, I began to admit I was becoming oversaturated with ideas, hooked by the endless search for that elusive better high.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Meanwhile I started a few more paintings...started...and didn't finish...started another...and didn't finish. Still bogged down by my bad habit of wanting to treat each canvas as if it was my only chance EVER to create a winning piece of art, according to the intricate and rigid plan I had in mind. Too uptight to just try and fly off a who-cares-what one day creation.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Ugh...plans. OK so I've had it with that. I'm grabbing canvases now and I refuse to be anal, to sit pondering the blank white elephant forever ....and I'm just diving in. I'm going to select a palette, and that will be my only premeditation. Then its bombs away. I want to actually finish a painting in one day or one sitting. I'm dropping oils except to finish what I've started, and taking up acrylics again for that fast finish.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Let's see if I'm worth watching or not.</span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Here is at last the finished painting of my Sudanese voters. I titled it "Voice", and dedicated it to my loving K whose idea it was:</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAA6yynGvnFuu5oSRk0VXlXE0kf3P632aQRVcE3whsLDJ5oO5wc-T7-maqZxKiEaV2fjSnLSluAar_caGzN_aPAcRGprphdVU9oMH-DKqJrRG0yPPGAoc8xKIxSx45DJ3iHgmdZRkkSvc/s1600/voice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAA6yynGvnFuu5oSRk0VXlXE0kf3P632aQRVcE3whsLDJ5oO5wc-T7-maqZxKiEaV2fjSnLSluAar_caGzN_aPAcRGprphdVU9oMH-DKqJrRG0yPPGAoc8xKIxSx45DJ3iHgmdZRkkSvc/s400/voice.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"VOICE" ~ Ranza Clark ~ Acrylic on Canvas 20" x 16"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">It was a fun time painting it....I started out without any adherence to factual references, aside from the faded digital photo K gave me. I became more interested in reading about the election and the people I was depicting, but I still relied on my imagination to take control, rather than adhere to authentic renditions of the setting, accuracy of physical racial features, or indigenous attire. My voters remained true though, they knew who they were and why they were there. It came out in their expressions. Each person in the line...there are five...(one almost invisible, the partially hidden tall man)...became a crucial presence, the "Voice" belonging, one after another, to each of them in their own single vote. In the real world, this election of 2011 saw South Sudan vote resoundingly for their secession from the north.. If you wish to read more about this recent piece of history, well, here at <a href="http://www.hrw.org/world-report-2012/world-report-2012-south-sudan" target="_blank"> <span style="color: #38761d;">Human Rights Watch</span></a> is a start, and another good summary <span style="color: #38761d;"><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/22/world/africa/22sudan.html?_r=0" target="_blank">here</a></span>. Of course there is still a long way to go. When I think of the absolutely pitiful voter turnouts in Canada, a country so rich in resources, a country that influences so much of what occurs in countries abroad as well, I look into the eyes of these Sudanese voters...and they tell me how important a responsibility this is. In my painting I see a diversity of circumstances, choices, and fates, each figure owning a determined comment on personal beliefs, self sufficiency, individuality and dignity. </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Oh and technique...I used acrylics. I decided to outline the figures I know not why. At first I wanted to attempt realism in lighting, but not being adept enough, I fell into a style that to me resembles almost comic book illustration...yes, there I go yet again, illustrating rather than painting. Argh. </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Anyway, enough analysis, there it is. I have to sign it still, undecided on side or front. It's a regular shallow canvas, so bottom right front I think. We are hanging it on our pumpkin coloured bedroom wall in the cabin, but of course, it is for sale. </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #674ea7;">And me, I am back in the blog world.I 'll be posting more frequently again (well,more often than every five months,anyway) even digging up and finishing some old posts sitting in draft. Summer is here and I have gone all artsy in my garden, building a maze and adding three dimensional art forms using wood, clay, dead branches, stones etc....well, you'll see the pics soon. It's a little bit heavenly I think!!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Thanks if you've read any of this. I am grateful. </span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7;">Love, Raonasa! xo</span>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-44706781699321066752013-01-13T01:52:00.002-08:002013-01-13T01:52:06.658-08:00The Moroccan Ceremony That Went to Calgary<span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="color: #660000;">I've posted most of my paintings here under the headings at the top of the page...click on</span></span><span style="color: #660000;"> <a href="http://raonasa.blogspot.ca/p/art-for-cabin-walls.html" target="_blank">Art for the Cabin Walls </a>above for instance, or <a href="http://raonasa.blogspot.ca/p/art-for-fawns-and-sprites.html" target="_blank">Art for Fawns and Sprites</a> to see some of them! However, I had not until today posted the painting that is featured as the cover art for my blog, the one titled "Moroccan Ceremony", and here it is (slightly cropped in the photo I'm afraid):</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZ5Xb83Rr-Zfii5hnAfLZAP2fLMMe9QIcq4yxRl3kAT0VSOJQKe1v9ZivXZsKpPA4Zr3756h4k7bg5qPlfRcg5IJ1vQVMiDFui666C99VeRj6Eqq5448e703fpKZja1tG5EzyuyKsGrc/s1600/moroccan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWZ5Xb83Rr-Zfii5hnAfLZAP2fLMMe9QIcq4yxRl3kAT0VSOJQKe1v9ZivXZsKpPA4Zr3756h4k7bg5qPlfRcg5IJ1vQVMiDFui666C99VeRj6Eqq5448e703fpKZja1tG5EzyuyKsGrc/s400/moroccan.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moroccan Ceremony ~ Oil on Canvas 24" x 20"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #660000;">I painted this bright fanfare in 2011 during the soggy downtrodden wet dirt road to nowhere dwindling winter, while feeling wistful for more exotic, lively and colourful places in the world. Couldn't I just BE there, in Morocco, or Istanbul or, or....<i>anywhere</i> but here? Spring was coming but not quickly enough!</span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #660000;">Surely you would think, being surrounded by glorious Canadian flora and fauna, I'd be tackling landscapes featuring arbutus trees and the brooding grey oceanic beauty that seeps onto the canvas of the seasoned west coast island dwelling painter! When it is all around you the lure is inevitable and it's true that there's nothing like local nature to bring out your most exacting and vivid palettes. The truth is, though I madly love where I live, my mind goes off in the wildest most far fetched other-continental other-planetary places when it sits conjuring up the next painting....and I can't help it, I dream of Africa, the Orient, Old Europe and the Middle East a lot.</span> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96HmGHHEpYAKmVt1TPFo-VjGZr4snfcykwoHgjsEIE0csHf3CbzhSgHN0OVfroFeSj0J65sMc_mVQEPBJC8SCbP7mM5ULtBLq83KvOVY3tPRmYU8uZoxJ-oXUwwawoye2b4e1kimRaEo/s1600/moroccan+drawingjpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<span style="color: #660000;">Tom Waits once described how his songs come to him, and a famous author also mentioned Tom's process in a fantastic TED Talks lecture on creativity (don't you LOVE TED Talks, and if you haven't heard of it, click the coming link and discover it, right now!!). The author was<u><span style="color: #0c343d;"> <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html" target="_blank">Elizabeth Gilbert</a></span></u>, who wrote<span style="color: #0c343d;"> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eat,_Pray,_Love" target="_blank">Eat, Pray, Love</a>. </span>Anyway, as Elizabeth described Tom's creative process, and also her friend the poet's creative process, I nodded and said "yes, that is basically it", and I'm sure I wasn't the only one to connect. How I start my own works is not always entirely explainable, a vision of an image just suddenly forms or appears or I even dream of it, but the spark is fleeting and I need to be alert to it. I think my tendency is more towards portraiture and creatures than abstracts and landscapes. And I am also an illustrator more than I am a painter...moving an illustrative hand to the painting canvas, I always battle uptight restraint, and measured planning, my two weaknesses. When I sketch, it flies like wildfire and I am left dazzled, but when I paint it's slow and meticulous...my desire to apply discipline and technique sometimes stifles the wild journey and stream of consciousness I long to follow. </span><span style="color: #660000;">For me, painting Moroccan Ceremony was to become a meeting of all of those elements face to face, a new beginning, a new dance, a new celebration of colour and splendour waiting to burst forth from order and precision. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;">Once I have my vague idea, I begin to search through art or photography books and magazines for a colour or a scene that will further ignite my "spark"....I was flipping through a book titled <span style="color: #e06666;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Moroccan-Interiors-Taschen-Lisa-Lovatt-Smith/dp/3822881775" target="_blank">"Moroccan Interiors"</a></span> and thinking of ornate birds and tapestries, and from the tiniest corner of a photograph of a living room, on page 263, there were two framed prints of birds facing each other in a mirror image....it struck my fancy to attempt a symmetrical painting, and to make it vividly colourful and celebratory. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">I began with a sketch, and from there, it went:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"> And then from there, it went again...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">And even though I thought I was going to paint certain light colours, I was taken more and more into a deep chocolate background and earthy tones mixed with brights. I used a set of quick drying <a href="http://en.pebeo.com/Fine-Art/Oil/Studio-fine-XL-oil" target="_blank">Pebeo</a> oil paints, and felt like experimenting with lots of different tubed colours. When it was completed, I left it without a varnish,<span style="color: black;"> </span>as I enjoyed its luscious and rich matte finish enough. I hung the painting in the entrance to our kitchen, and from time to time I would think of working more on it, or adding a varnish to give it sheen. But the birds would sit there pleasantly and say "We're happy this way, absolutely happy as ever". And I'd agree, and smile. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">Then one day in November I got an email, a really lovely email, from a woman in Calgary. She had come across my blog while searching for things to remind her of Vancouver Island. She wrote me to ask if the cover art for my blog was actually for sale. I told her yes, it was! She was also interested in my original sketch of <a href="http://www.raonasa.blogspot.ca/p/sketches-and-scratchings.html" target="_blank">Queen Noushin.</a> I felt as if she'd been guided to my art, and it was looking for her too.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;">After a few emails back and forth, and a trip to the framers to frame my sketch, I was ready to mail the art to my customer in Calgary. Calgary, my home town where I was born and raised! My art was finding it's way to a wonderful Calgary home where it would emanate grace, healing and joy, and be appreciated and loved in return! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy6EZVxDvxj10-aDDORlxzQXvhCh8CCpPgu7yi3R5pCE3o_u3Dc9CFAwEHjiQkEVQUh6AdvUXmZOR875dmYVCwlw7coX2so90mBEewnD-MZVH2K1QJjITxbFXtCqElM7Bq44wg9g8qsE8/s1600/fragile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy6EZVxDvxj10-aDDORlxzQXvhCh8CCpPgu7yi3R5pCE3o_u3Dc9CFAwEHjiQkEVQUh6AdvUXmZOR875dmYVCwlw7coX2so90mBEewnD-MZVH2K1QJjITxbFXtCqElM7Bq44wg9g8qsE8/s200/fragile.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
<span style="color: #660000;">December arrived and with it a few setbacks...K's accident was the final blow in a series of family hospital visits, me having hurt my thigh at work and winding up with a painful hematoma, and K's daughter having gall bladder surgery. All of these things delayed the packaging and shipping of my art, and, running out of mental and physical steam, I decided to look for help from a professional.<a href="http://jeffmolloy.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank"> Jeff Molloy </a>came to my aid. I visited his studio with my two pieces and he wrapped them to perfection. This man has sent huge pieces of very valuable art overseas, and so getting my smaller babies safely to Calgary was for him a whiz. He taught me some handy pointers as he carefully worked away. He prefers to use sheet styrofoam rather than bubble wrap, and to keep the work flat and even, he uses hard thick cardboard, and saran tape going both length and width-wise. Brown parcel paper was used for the first inside and final outside wrap. I was able to send them off looking perfect, and soon heard from the new owner that they had arrived in fine condition. Hooray!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47;">I created both pieces with love, gratitude and happy energy, and my prayers are always with their owner to flourish every single day!! xoxoxo</span>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-2294855113359117352013-01-10T16:41:00.000-08:002013-01-12T20:08:25.256-08:002013 and How We Got Here<span style="color: #0c343d;">I haven't written for months, so now I'll likely drum out several posts all in a tumbling row! It's difficult to justify my online absence other than to say it has been an eventful fall and winter. After my now almost dreamlike trip to the family reunion in France (did it really happen? Yes, I will cherish it again and again for the rest of my life!!!), I returned to my job as a casual library worker, however my holiday had set me back on the seniority list of casuals and I returned to virtually no work. You'd think this would open up a world of painting time but I tend to fret and procrastinate and obsessively clean the house when I'm worried about paying the bills. I irksomely focus on making our house tidy ~ a huge waste of time as we are rural dwellers, where domestic chaos is an accepted, no <i>expected</i>, state to present to visitors!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">Toward the end of the year I pulled together a few of my old Christmas Card designs (eventually you will be able to see all my watercolour greeting card designs on my other blog, <span style="color: #741b47;"><a href="http://thumbandthistle.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Thumb & Thistle</a></span>) and I took part in two local weekend markets, my favourite being the Christmas at the Commons. We've had so much to thank the Commons for throughout this year, and it's there that I've met some of the most real and down to earth people - people whose hearts and souls are far bigger than even the daily challenges they have to endure, and quite a few have lived on this island since much simpler times before their circumstances diminished...these are the people I feel the most at home with, and an ever evolving way of living has emerged for K and I as we now serve frequent shared dinners, offer our hot shower as a drop-in option and our sofabed as a respite to the same friends who give us a ride when we have no gas, drop off chopped wood to keep our fire along, lend us flashlights or come running if someone is sick, and so it goes round and round as we all find our equal footing and establish a lifestyle that nurtures the abundance we can collectively manifest in our small community. I never knew anything like this in the city. Here, the economic currency is the free time that is filled with open, unconditional favours traded between neighbours. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">Just past mid-December K was driving home on the first snowy and icy evening of the winter and as he rounded a bend a deer appeared in his path. Although he knows not to swerve for deer, the timing of its placement at the apex of the curve was sudden and visibility low in the pitch dark....what he thought was shoulder room on the road was only an illusion created by ice fog...to his fleeting horror he discovered it was in fact a ditch.... as he skidded into it, he hurtled toward a huge tree and flipped on his driver side just in time to avoid a head on smashup and sure death. I was meanwhile at home snoozing, although even in my floating sleep I sensed an excessive lapsing of time, unconsciously unsettled that he should be home by now. I was soon woken by a friend knocking gently on our bedroom door (we never lock the house in our quiet neck of the woods)..."Ranza, you need to get up now and dress, K has been in a little accident". His overly calm manner betrayed his tentative words. My heart racing, I tore on my jeans and we drove down to the accident scene...as we approached, and I saw that a road crew was actually enforced to slow traffic (what, <i>here</i>? That never happens!!), my stomach churned, and I nearly threw up across the dashboard of our friend's car at the sight of our hefty Forerunner on its side, the hood ravaged open by the metal-gnawing machinery of the paramedic rescue team, and my man nowhere in sight, already extricated and whisked off by the ambulance. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">K survived, in the opinion of the police and the emergency crew, by the skin of his teeth and the grace of his huge physique. And above all, in our humble opinion, under the protection of the Mysterious Great and Grander Entity. After a long night in hospital undergoing tests and xrays to rule out spinal and brain injury, he came home with a compound fracture and stitches to his nose, lacerations and tissue damage, a throttled knee and a bruised arm. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">K and Seeker in the Fall of 2012</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">Why had K driven out that icy cold evening? Leaving me at home to rest after an exhausting day, he was on an errand down mid-island to pick up a space heater for my studio from a woman who had a spare one to give me. It wound up coming at a much steeper price. I never thought the resulting comfort of a cozy warm studio would infuse me with such guilt and gratitude at the same time. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQN3wByBk4RfezX6kFWA-DquojAA3vCoa6TF8ql2MTypv9CpCOcRcug6Y0US8_iPC5ng6ThbwG7KYJxPLN67Z5yXqaPD7Pkyk-ULAXuY63tYvfayKClsSNFMw7CgHEnDYbT4N7SzSz0Q/s1600/studio.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQN3wByBk4RfezX6kFWA-DquojAA3vCoa6TF8ql2MTypv9CpCOcRcug6Y0US8_iPC5ng6ThbwG7KYJxPLN67Z5yXqaPD7Pkyk-ULAXuY63tYvfayKClsSNFMw7CgHEnDYbT4N7SzSz0Q/s400/studio.JPG" width="386" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No Longer Freezing, My Studio is Awake Again</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">Today we were having a laugh at the fact that K's otherwise boxer-like lumpy nose has actually healed much straighter than before.....and knock on wood we're back in the saddle again dealing with life's other simple struggles and exorbitant joys. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">K and I met on New Year's Eve 2007, so it's our anniversary of course! We have stayed in to celebrate quietly all the Eves since, and this time as it passed uneventfully into the new enlightened era, I coined our shared motto for 2013:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">"Carpe Diem! Fear Nothing, and Force Nothing! Get on with it in 2013!!"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;">I do have inspiring stories to tell and art to reveal, coming up soon!! And if I stick to my own words I will put the final brushstrokes to all the half-started paintings I began last year, including the yet to be titled oil below:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXKiQ85k9_RSHINUEL7aPHMgz29DfK9HuFyfQZQ3sE-Pi_a8yqvXe2r6Km9a986SjbAo2lpMwZp_8jJf424eVObZtNY3AW4kbZTfS9isvJREAZABPTIaCG2brQ_1WrJm_Ik6TUyfySgs/s1600/portrait.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGXKiQ85k9_RSHINUEL7aPHMgz29DfK9HuFyfQZQ3sE-Pi_a8yqvXe2r6Km9a986SjbAo2lpMwZp_8jJf424eVObZtNY3AW4kbZTfS9isvJREAZABPTIaCG2brQ_1WrJm_Ik6TUyfySgs/s400/portrait.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oil Painting in Progress</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;"> Happy New Year everyone, from our house in the woods.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Road Ahead</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span>Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2730239565701443547.post-31061612995309873062012-10-17T20:38:00.005-07:002012-10-17T22:25:57.313-07:00I'm Lost in Sudan, You Must Wait for Suzanne<span style="color: #783f04;">Oh I hate making promises I can't keep. But I rarely do anything in order, chronologically or even in at least in a timely manner, and this should come as a warning on all the packages of my promises. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">My partner K (ours is a passionate and commited yet boundless union in case the word partner has limited connotations in your part of the world)....wanted to commission me (without pay of course, at least of the monetary kind) to do a painting that would take me away from my tendency to illustrate, my tendency to create neat, controlled and whimsical paintings infused with joyful and childish intent...somewhere, he found a photograph of Sudanese men standing in a polling line, waiting to vote. The year the photo was taken, the vote in question that mattered, I am unsure of. I need to read my news and history. But all pertinent facts aside, I stared at the photo and could only wonder at the resolute expression of the man at the front of the line...he has a mission to accomplish, he is determined to do his part, and he firmly believes his vote stands for who he is and his voice demands to be counted. He is not there by societal obligation as so often is the case in the west, he is proud and he will make a difference. This chance has, perhaps, been newly presented to him...it is not taken for granted. And then behind him, another resolute face, but behind that...what? Who?...his fellow countrymen...do they have the same passion? Will they sell out for personal gain? Are they actually Sudanese, are they transplants, are they....puppets, are they reliable? To vote in the most unstable of conditions, is this a risk, is it a pipe dream, does it have any worth or tangible effect? The faces in this painting, the dress, the quality of light, can any of this give anything away? More yet...how often does the painter discuss the questions that arise while forming a painting? Is it only ever a matter of making it look lovely? All of these things are hitting me as I attempt to connect with my work on this piece, and I now realize that this is intrinsic to one's evolution if one is attempting to create outside of the box...the box being our own limitations...our own enclosure of our fear of breaking out, our own frustration at trying to be understood, to convey what we intend, or even in this case, to translate what we think the image has to say.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">The original photo ~ is it simply a day in the life that bears no deep analysis? Am I projecting onto it more than was occurring in the actual day as it was lived by the men who happened to have their picture taken in that nonosecond of existence?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">I don't know. I am into the painting now and all I know is there is more to show in it. Maybe it will just be pretty, maybe it will make you cry, maybe it will embody triumph, maybe it will convey these men as they truly are, it could speak for them, it could also do nothing and flop altogether.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">I can't worry about that right now. I just have an urge to get more involved in the patterns, or lack of, in their robes, to bring them into the proper time of day. I decided to use acrylic paint for this one, to concentrate on line and shape more than detail or extensive colour.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04;">I have many unfinished paintings lying about, but this one is begging the most not to join them, so I keep on...I didn't get called in to work today, they haven't needed to call me much this month at all and it has been hard adjusting to the lack of money and all the free time. You'd think I'd just jump at the chance to paint, but my studio is freezing and I need a space heater. Another silly excuse....I'm getting back to it, and I have not forgotten Suzanne Valadon, in fact, I am relating to her more and more these days....</span><br />
<br />Ranzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05187341735147629382noreply@blogger.com0