03 December 2015

Small surprises

Been home today with a tough headache and just plain weariness. Roaming the house, at loose ends, thinking about work . . . no way to shut down the mind even though the body is screaming, "stop!" 

Finally wandered into my 'studio' area (actually was doing a load of laundry) and started to poke around in the files on my computer, drifting through various scans when I stumbled on a small file of pastel and watercolor sketches. God, when did I do those? And, more importantly, where are they? 

Surprisingly, I've always steered clear of pastels, although I do love the density and richness. Several years back I tried my hand, and I think I wrote on this blog about how I stupidly wore white shorts while using pastels -- a true 'duh' moment! 

But I keep returning to favorite artists, such as Casey Klahn and Deborah Stewart.  And, of course, one must revel in the pastel works of Wolf Kahn, so there must be something in pastels that stirs my feeble brain.

Earlier this summer I found that working small and quick while using watercolors as the underpainting truly gave me the effect I was seeking with pastels. Somewhere in this mess, I need to find those sketch books, perhaps tack them up on my inspiration wall, pull my head out of the dense cloud of work and the threatening depression of winter and sink myself into those colors -- 

Sunset on the CT River

The Stillness of Pines at Dusk

A Continuous Flow

High Summer along the River

03 October 2015

Ode to summer

Summer 2015 has slipped away, almost overnight it seems. Two weeks ago we had 90 degree temperatures, but today it's about 48 degrees with winds and rain.

The good thing about this weather is that it forces one inside, something I haven't done in awhile. Every free moment when not working I was out in the garden or walking or on the deck. Working in an office 40+ hours a week does that to one. 

So on this rainy day I've been sorting through the photos I snapped throughout the summer weeks and revisited Photoshop while waiting for the laundry to finish. How exciting is that? Later today I'll throw a log or two on the fire and pull out my yarns and begin to sort out projects for the winter. 

Here are a few of my favorite shots from the garden -- I hope you enjoy!

hosta leaf


petals at dusk

vintage blossom

28 June 2015

Return from the Cape

What is it about a vacation at the Cape that re-charges the creative juices once again? Is it the sunlight, the hot lazy afternoons? Perhaps it's the salt air and swimming in the ocean that cleanses the mind? 

Cape Beach

These are just a few shots from the Cape, which I love to fiddle with, digitally altering them to make them appear 'vintage-y' --  like some old photos you'd find stashed away in albums that your grandparents (or great-grandparents) had at one time --

Wynchmere Harbor, Harwich, MA

the ones where no one can recall who took the picture or when --  

View of Provincetown Harbor

That's something that bothers me about digital cameras -- it's so very ephemeral.  At least in the 'old' days, people had their photos printed, as it was the only way.  Now, how often do we actually print out the shots we've taken with our digital cameras and phones?  

Sure, we load them up onto our computers and then onto our blogs, tumblr, pinterest, instagram -- but then what?  What if the platforms and technologies change?  Does anyone backup their pics? 

Garden Lion, Provincetown

Ah, well . . . don't mind me.  I'm just griping, as I know that I'm as guilty as the next person.  I have good intentions, but they often go by the wayside with the excuse, "I'll wait for a rainy day . . . "  And then I move onto something else: work, taking care of the gardens, etc.  

This last image -- Garden Lion -- is a favorite.  I found him poking up from behind a mass of shrubs and flowers in a garden in Provincetown.  So very exotic, don't you think?  

18 May 2015

Star Magnolia

"Magnolia Light" by Kelly M.

long time coming --

pale stars of magnolia

erase all memory

of winter --

06 April 2015

And yet we still wait:

pastel and watercolor; 5"x7"

winds sink 
and scour new green --

whipping heads
so delicate,

wet, dirt-encrusted debris
revealed from under shrouds
of snow,

at my feet 
snow drops tremble --

is it not glorious?