'Winter is Coming' (Matted Photo Print of Completed Work)

An 8" X 10" Photo Print of "Break the Storm" is Available for sale 

At my Etsy shop: Sunflower Point of View.  This high resolution photo print is framed in a  high quality 11" X 14" black mat and will be sent in a clear fitted plastic bag.

'Break the Storm' (Matted Photo Print of Completed Work)

Sketch in Chalk on drawing paper

14" X 12"

Final work completed in Acrylic 

on Heavy Loose Canvas (Twitter)

An 8" X 10" Photo Print of "Break the Storm" is Available for sale 

At my Etsy shop: Sunflower Point of View.  High resolution photo print framed in a 11" X 14" black mat.

   

Moab (2009)

I meant to touch on the camping trip and realized, a month later… that I didn’t.

Moab is…. How to draw Moab?

We arrived in the evening and we started our visit then and there by scrambling around the top of Dead Horse Point. My best sweetheart told me the story of how the place acquired its name and it left me with a tightened throat. Sunset fell completely and the night wind swept up the sheer cliffs, blowing my clothes against me and my hair into snarls. My hands hurt which was interesting. My hands always ache when I am high up. Heights do something to my heart rate too. So although I couldn’t see perfectly, my body knew where I was.

For a woman raised on the east coast for most of her formative years…. Beauty, to me, is the wet grass, the fireflies, the smell of the sea, rain in the afternoon, green everywhere. This was a different world completely.

Moab is a swirling dance of red, orange, and dusty purple during the day. It is fire and brilliant shards of light at dusk. It is a calm grey blue at night.

Silence beats against your ears. Regardless of whether is it a trail with very few companion hikers or if it is where tourism and crowds abound, the silence streams around the shrill echoes of laughter and brushes against your legs, eyes and heart. Silence is alive there.

Towering rocks are temples, they are forbidding and watchful as you pass under them. The ground exhales under your feet and for all the stones, dust, and solid ancient landscape, somehow Moab is vibrantly Alive and Self-Aware. It is an Eerie, and almost Holy place.

There the wind woman is even more wild and dangerous and beautiful. Although I have always loved and distrusted her, I have never felt fear. There, I was so sensitive to my fragile body and her fierce freedom that I was actually afraid.

It was exhilarating.

(2009 07)

Autumn Rain (Original Fine Art)

"Autumn Rain"

"18" X "24" X "3/4"
Original Fine Art - Acrylic (Sealed to protect against fading/UV)

Head in the Clouds

Nice painting huh?  Nice, peaceful....yawnnnnnnnnnnnnn

I have the window cracked and the Wind Woman is racing to whip up another hot August thunderstorm and as she dashes by comments, "That's boring..."

Before I can do more then scowl she's off again and I hear the trees laughing....

well...it is boring...


Out come blues, blacks and yellow!  Rise and rise!!

I am playing 'Prelude' (From the Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007 on Master and Commander) and it is blaring from my personal computer -My fingernails are stained and there is a roaring in my ears, echoing the electricity outside -!


"How go the close outs in the markets?"

...blankly I turn back to the desk speaking to me....
WAIT I am on a conference call!  For work!  but I am at home!  Right!!!

I silence my computer, un-mute the call and give my market's updates while chewing on the end of the paint brush and resting my chin in my hands. 

The call ends and a glance in the window's reflection tells me I have paint on my face.

In soooo many ways.

Finished 16 X 20 X 3/4 Acrylic "Head in the Clouds"

Reflection

I am day dreaming today. I want to go to the art store and pick up some canvas. I want to feel the itchy tingle of paint drying against my skin. I like that feeling. It is not comfortable but it is comforting. When paint crams under my nails to the point that they ache I feel like I can understand the texture of the wind and the weight of breathing.

I walked Sally last night and watched the cloud’s reflection in street puddles. The storm raged and twisted and wrapped into its self, far above, it was a giant silken throw of silver grey.

Then I tripped on the sidewalk. It helps to watch where you walk.