Tag Archives: work in progress

Mercy/Failure/WIP 30 in 30 day 15

I didn’t finish a painting today. Thought I was almost there with a little painting about a horse, but I was Cecilia Gimenezing the hell out of that horses’s face, so I’ll let that thing sit for a while. Spent most of the day, some much needed time, with my family. My husband made me a delicious Valentines Day dinner. I hate guns. I hate the NRA.

Here is a 12″ x 12″ in progress and a corny song – the first song I can remember really liking. I was 3 or 4 years old when first I heard its tinny sound coming out of the transistor radio on the top of the refrigerator, and I thought there were tiny people inside there, singing for me.

WIP3Sisters

One swallow does not make a summer

Little melancholy on this last day of summer/first day of fall.

Saying a sad good bye to my studio mate Meg Voigt Meersman, but looking forward to welcoming my new studio mate Kel Payton.

The crickets are making a lovely background noise.

I am working on this 20″ x 24″ tonight.

 

Embracing Chaos

Oil on wood, 12″ x 9″, not yet finished.

Work in Progress

Well, a small section of a work in progress- the bit that can be caught on the scanner bed. 

I’m working on this painting for a politically-themed show. Originally sparked by Mark Twain’s brilliant short work The War Prayer, I found myself looking through a box of my grandfather’s World War I stuff for inspiration. Among a bleak report from the division sanitary inspector ( the unwrapped French bread was loved by American soldiers but always getting unloaded on the muddy ground) , a brief history of the operations of the 1st division, and a June 19, 1918 memo on the exorbitant price of French foodstuffs, I found a poem. 52 type-written lines organized in 3 stanzas are written about “The Other Bird,” the guy on the supply side who wishes he was fighting. The last half of the last stanza:

 

I crave to take these burning youths

By their soft and tender hands

And lead ’em to the scene of hell 

That’s bound by moral hands.

But it’s too late now and they’re going back

These boys from the S.O.S.

They’ll be our heroes from “Over there,”

And we’ll stay till we rot, I guess.