New paintings and regular art updates.
Today I started a painting for the first time in months. I saw an image by photographer David Tipling of a Barn Owl from a Staffordshire Wildlife Trust bookmark and just had to paint it.
Why the owl? The photographer has captured it in flight beautifully The sinuous curve of its wings seems to scythe through the air. Its face is both impassive and intent.
I hope the photographer does not mind me painting his image.
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Flowers and old wood
Blocked up windows and peeling paint.
Dasies and dianthus.
A history in brick and slate.
Clay and pottery.
Caged in but released,
Renewed and Revivified.
Pansies and wallflowers shining,
their sunlit faces turned to a bright, chilled sky.
Crumbling with asbestos innards,
But able to be proud again.
Inspired by a post by little fears.
Ugh, jelly flavoured fish….. So strange Fran thought. She’d seen a sign jellyfish for sale, and was mentally trying to work out what it meant. What flavour would they be? Lemon, ginger, cherry?
She walked across the road from the tropical fish shop. There was another store there. Jelly babies were on display by the counter. Why all this jelly? What was happening…..who turned babies into jelly anyway?
Two doors down from the sweet shop was a grocery store. She walked round it only to find sugar free jelly, jelly rolls and jellied eels.
It’s a wobbly wobbly world she thought.
The dawn chorus has started. There is a blackbird singing outside. It’s melody riding and falling. The wind is moaning through gaps in the window. But I don’t mind it, at least I don’t live in a totally sealed box.
I’ve been up for an hour. Stomach pains, nothing serious, just annoying and I couldn’t sleep. The cat rubbed round my ankles then decided to go and sleep on the back of the sofa. She must be a mind reader, she just came back to see me! Little purring cat always cheers me. Oh now the other one is awake. Now we will have catch chase. Like children playing they run up and down. Pouncing on each other, play fighting. Must be to do with terratorial issues. Sometimes I have to tell them off when they get too boisterous.
Well I’d better try and get some sleep. It’s cold in here and I want to snuggle under the duvet. It’s been a cold dry spring so far.
See ya!
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For Sue Vincent’s Thursday#writephoto challenge
She hated getting lost. But she wouldn’t use satnav and or Google maps. She preferred old paper maps, the folding type or the atlas style ones for driving. She would memorise a good part of the route. Try and remember road numbers, like the A53 or A34.
She had been distracted by satnav so gave up on it, and although she would look at Google maps before she went somewhere she would not switch her mobile on in her car, too dangerous.
When she was young she was navigating for her mother as they drove through the countryside. She took them down the wrong road, and had to admit that she had got them lost. She also got completely bemused in a group of terraced houses near her home when she was really young, so she decided to look for landmarks like shops or trees, train stations, pubs. She also remembered trying to work out where the sun was in the sky.
Coming up to a sign post like this, with a choice of two routes, she would try and check her map. She looked out for telephone poles because they tend to be on roads. She wanted an idea where the closest village or hamlet was.
The signpost was no use. It was so weathered and old that the words had completely disappeared. No use at all. She could see on the map that it was feilds for miles around. She could retrace her steps. Give up. Or plunge on, decisions.
Left, towards the sun which was starting to go down. Or right into increasing darkness. That was her dilemma.
I like drawing digitally. I need to get my computer fixed (I’ve been saying that for a couple of years) the trouble is that I got a tablet, now I’ve got a smart phone. I can do so much without having to sit in a cold bedroom in winter. But in some ways I am limited. I can’t draw on this device like I had learned to on my old PC. I’m just worried I won’t be able to upgrade without losing thousands of saved images. I imaging the inside of my computer going rusty or with spiders inhabiting it!
Cheerio for now
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Did he come in from the countryside? Race across the garden centre. Stand at bay in the middle of the mahonias and fatsia plants? Did he knock them like skittles across the patio? Did he roar a challenge to the bamboo ducks sitting on the bridge? A woman walks past and does not hear his challenge. A cat, out of shot, creeps past incase he disturbs the scene. Agapanthus are ready to grow. Perennials are sprouting. This metallic majesty sparkles in the sun. Windswept and tangled in plants he stands up head high, massive antlers shaking in the windy April air.
Waiting
I’ll be there this afternoon.
Waiting
I’ll be there soon.
Waiting
I’m on my way…
Waiting
I’ll be there today
Waiting
Or maybe tomorrow
Waiting
If the weather holds.
Waiting
He’s prone to colds.
Waiting
I’m in a rage
Waiting
It’s been an age.
Waiting
Well now he’s late
Waiting
Choose a new date.
Waiting
Watching paint dry
Waiting
I might just die!
Lines, drawn or written
Colours shaded or seen
Life is convolution
Hues and tones between.
Moving through the world
Splashing it with paint,
Vision of something beginning
Sent from Earth and Space.
Flashes of many memories
Drawing together in time
Image of family united,
Pixels describing with line.
Fly me to the moon was Stella’s favourite song. She’d heard it as a child and whenever she saw the moon she would either sing that, or sometimes twinkle twinkle little star.
It was 3am and the moon was a half circle, flying high, dancing in and out of broken clouds. A few moonbeams made it into the kitchen as she switched on the kettle and waited for it to boil. She was careful to pour the liquid into her coffee mug. In the dim light she didn’t want to spill it onto her toes.
There was a flash, she looked around and saw, nothing. The world looked the same.
There was another bright flash. This time she was a meteor streaking across the sky. Far brighter than a normal shooting star. And there was another. These are fireballs, she thought. They must be high up. The shadows they cast shot across the kitchen rapidly. One particular one was so bright she thought it was going to hit the house. It made the windows rattle.
Then it just stopped. She waited minutes for another one. Nothing. No sound, no wind, no huge explosion. What had they been? In the morning none of her neighbours had heard or seen anything. She went to work, came home, made a coffee.
Turning on the six o’clock news.
“seven space vehicles have landed near Washington” “no response from them” “civilians are warned to keep away”.
She wondered what would happen next?
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