I'd practically forgot about the travel set of watercolors, so brought them with me last night to do some observationals and imaginaries. She began a story— There were two houses... I don't know the rest of it, as I got lost in the rendering of two little houses, the situation of whose windows is pure whimsy. The houses list ever… Continue reading Watercolor on buckling pages
Here are some sketchbook studies from some years ago. Two of these (above right and farther below) turned into oil paintings (working in thin glazes) on wood panels, frames painted to match. In the case of the studies (second set in particular), I believe the finished pieces lost something in the translations; the faces are more… Continue reading Studies for paintings: art archive
Here's a piece I did Monday evening. I've had these cradled wood panels in a box for several years now, and kinda forgot about them. But also, I tend to get too precious about materials (fear of sullying the perfect blank page, as it were). Time to stop that. TL made the panels for me a few years ago; I… Continue reading It’s almost Halloween! Here’s a painting of a creepy girl
Here's another page from the book mentioned in a previous post. These inner pages are far more fragile than was the Title Page proper, as you can see by the deterioration in this drawing. (A lot of those bits fell off during the drawing process— mechanical pencils are sharp!)
Found this coverless, foxed old paperback in the 50¢ bin at Bruised Apple Books in Peekskill, NY during our camping trip a few weeks ago. It was clearly a popular volume in its time (319th edition!), its slender chapters sporting titles that encompass all the feels, to use contemporary parlance. Here are just a few… Expansions (development)… Continue reading The beauty of antique paper
"every detail clear, tin cup and rippled mirror. The day is bright and songless" —from Morning in the Burned House, by Margaret Atwood Spent two days camping upstate midweek, and the first day was clear and beautiful, temperate.
...that New York was Nieuw Amsterdam. Alright, it may be a bit of a stretch, but it was the Dutch who sent Mr Hudson in search of a new passage to Asia, but what he jolly well found would become the capital city of New Netherland.
Waning of summer month, end of beach weather month. Back to work and back to school month. Memory— no A pattern, died in the wool. Buckled-up books, backpacks, cardigans. Skirts and stockings and closed-up shoes that suddenly feel too tight. Early rising, hasty breakfasting— Tie your shoes and Don’t forget your lunch and The bus… Continue reading September
Its beaches are among New York City's finest assets in the summer season, and the past weekend included two days delightfully spent where the Atlantic meets the sand at Jacob Riis Park. I spied a couple of cormorants drifting on the water out beyond the crashing waves. They're more commonly spotted lounging in the sun on the jetties of Coney, drying their… Continue reading Umbrellas and breakers
Here is the latest in my "Don't See Don't Speak" (or the Red Hand of Shut It) series— something more topical in response to the tragic and avoidable events of last week. Please feel free to share this widely and repost (as is). Below are some progress scans of the pencilling. One again, I forgot to… Continue reading Silenced is not Equal: #BlackLivesMatter
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 