tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12978508714427201562024-02-19T17:12:15.630-08:00Laura BlakerUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-88337593577674781552014-07-05T14:15:00.001-07:002014-08-22T11:42:40.875-07:00Gallery Boot Camp<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4kYgtTsREvWWffsEJKSlJFpIolOw2V_FSUrRe_-PokaBZChftiShlnLWRzUxCp-fOc0pXmTG0HnG2Dqh_TNFmNG7QnWuAq6GtAFssPGIhG7Yf81KBrmH6Rwv6YMHgPg2wrCa6sA2EzEG/s1600/10514637_1395878970634536_6464597726729702031_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG4kYgtTsREvWWffsEJKSlJFpIolOw2V_FSUrRe_-PokaBZChftiShlnLWRzUxCp-fOc0pXmTG0HnG2Dqh_TNFmNG7QnWuAq6GtAFssPGIhG7Yf81KBrmH6Rwv6YMHgPg2wrCa6sA2EzEG/s1600/10514637_1395878970634536_6464597726729702031_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Jackson Brown is playing in the back room, in the distance the wooden wind chimes at a nearby store are making their sound and down the road I can hear a flute played by a guy in another store. At 10:30 the Mayor will sing the Star Spangled Banner on a balcony overlooking the street.</div>
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This is Bigfork, Montana, a block long village on Flathead Lake with quirky locals that are as authentic and charming as this town is.<br />
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My friend and fellow artist Nancy Seiler and I rolled into town in early May to talk to galleries about showing our work, but it was a rainy Monday off season and everything was closed. We were parked in front of a building with a for lease sign and on a whim decided to call to see if we could get a look at it. Five minutes later we were inside (Jack, the owner lives across the street), to find a beautiful gallery space that needed no work or investment, we went across the street to the "Pocketstone Cafe" to talk about it and both of us felt kind of sick because we knew this was going to be our other home for 4 months. On the way home we aptly named it "Lake Gallery". 3 weeks later we unloaded our u-haul truck into the "dorm room" that we were renting. 7 days a week, 6 hours a day each at the gallery and another 3 of painting. This is Gallery Boot Camp.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-72203510765633335302013-06-11T08:40:00.000-07:002013-06-11T08:52:48.078-07:00Kweku Ananse and the Two Parties<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Kweku Ananse and his family lived in a village called ‘Anyiber Mo’. One day the chief of his village decided to throw a grand party to thank God for enabling him to fulfill his promises. Ananse and his wife Aso were among the important people invited. This excited him because this was a good opportunity to drink the finest palmwine. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The next day the chief of the neighboring village also sent Mr. & Mrs. Ananse an invitation to his wedding party. Ananse was happy to receive it but wasn't sure what to do because both of the parties were on the same day beginning at the same time with the same duration. Ananse sat down and thought very hard about what to do. Later he put on a tranquil smile as he went about his daily work after deciding what to do. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Finally, when the much-awaited day arrived, Ananse asked his wife to wait for him at the wedding party. When she left, he went under his bed and brought out a new thick long rope he had bought for the sake of the two parties. After dressing up in his best Kente cloth and a pair of ‘ahenema’ sandal (native sandal), he called two of his sons (Ntikumah and Tikonokono). As soon as they saw the rope, they asked “Papa, what are you doing with that?”. Ananse replied, “ Keep quiet and listen. We shall go to the border between the two villages. I will then tie this rope around my waist. You’ll take one end of the rope each and go to where the parties are taking place”. Ananse exhaled deeply and concluded, “Now pay attention boys, the first person to see that the refreshment is being served should pull the rope very fast so that I can come there and enjoy myself OK?!!” The boys nodded and when they got to the border, they did exactly as planned. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Unfortunately for Ananse, both parties began the refreshments at the same time so both sons started to pull the rope at the same time. People in both villages who saw the scene couldn’t help laughing and cheering. Due to the noise, the two sons could not hear Ananse’s wailing and pleas for them to stop so they pulled all day and he Ananse suffered all day for his greed. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-58743594907550610822013-05-13T08:27:00.001-07:002013-06-11T08:45:06.124-07:00Lluvia de Peces (Rain of Fish) Honduras<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85YH7sYztg5TuhwNk7Xm9UT5DdilTSfLObN1yoUQuzmAK2czZh7Drx7X1MFIpa7eD3obWLbONHgtwO8rScfeIslWM1TC_8wTLqJogoa8Ow0svR2HFigFpuRRKx7c9ACbonbzzvYsACs8y/s1600/rainoffishsm+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj85YH7sYztg5TuhwNk7Xm9UT5DdilTSfLObN1yoUQuzmAK2czZh7Drx7X1MFIpa7eD3obWLbONHgtwO8rScfeIslWM1TC_8wTLqJogoa8Ow0svR2HFigFpuRRKx7c9ACbonbzzvYsACs8y/s320/rainoffishsm+copy.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">Rain of Fish is a phenomenon that has allegedly been occurring for more than a century on a yearly basis in Yoro, Honduras. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">Many people believe this phenomenon occurs because of Father José Manuel Subirana, a Spanish Catholic missionary and considered by many to be a saint. He visited Honduras from 1856-1864, and upon encountering so many poor people, prayed for 3 days and 3 nights asking God for a miracle to help the poor people by providing food. The Rain of Fish has occurred ever since. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">The fish are all the same size—about 6 inches long—and are completely blind. But even stranger than the appearance of the fish is the fact that these particular fish are not found in any of the surrounding bodies of water.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-75005732304489494902013-05-10T09:20:00.002-07:002013-05-10T09:21:15.789-07:00Chica de Blanco (Girl in White) A Mexican Ghost Story<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWpP9tziBhW6XYU0_71vKBFlXtsXLcM8DMEi9EzklKb7uGRWi1vuzEVvSAJJBGQcgus5XKx_zfcJfrkoRKfKHiJm5DaUa1PAQc0agRm-Ocbyv_WiQuzgQRK99g9ciDn85EoIfwqGVUoRlt/s1600/girlinwhite+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWpP9tziBhW6XYU0_71vKBFlXtsXLcM8DMEi9EzklKb7uGRWi1vuzEVvSAJJBGQcgus5XKx_zfcJfrkoRKfKHiJm5DaUa1PAQc0agRm-Ocbyv_WiQuzgQRK99g9ciDn85EoIfwqGVUoRlt/s400/girlinwhite+copy.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">He was sulking a little, standing at the sidelines while all the other men danced with their pretty partners. His girl had not come to the dance that night. Her mother was ill, and so his girl had remained at her side. A fine pious act, he thought sourly, but it left him at loose ends.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">His friend, Ernesto, came up to him between sets with a cold drink and some words of encouragement. “After all, Anita is not the only girl in the world,” Ernesto said. “There are many pretty girls here tonight. Dance with one of them.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Bolstered by his friend’s words, he started looking around the dance hall. His eye fell upon a beautiful young girl standing wistfully at the edge of the floor beside the door to the terrace. She was dressed in an old-fashioned white gown and her skin was pale as the moon. Her dark eyes watched the dance hungrily from her position behind a tall fern, and he felt his heart beat faster. Such a lovely woman should be dancing!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">He made his way through the bustling crowd and bowed to the girl in white. She looked startled by his addresses, as if she had not expected anyone to notice her that night. But she readily assented to dance with him, and he proudly led her out onto the floor for the next set, all thoughts of Anita gone from his mind.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Ernesto and some of his other friends gave him odd looks as he danced with the girl in white. A few times, the man opposite them bumped right into them as if he had not seen his partner at all. He was furious and wanted to stop the dance and make the man apologize to the girl in white, but she just laughed and hushed him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">When the dance was over, he hurried to get his fair partner a drink. Ernesto approached him at the refreshment table. “When I told you to dance, I meant with a partner,” his friend teased him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“I was dancing with a partner,” he replied, irritated by his friends remark. “The loveliest girl in all of Mexico!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“You’ve had too much to drink, my friend,” Ernesto replied. “You were dancing by yourself out there!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">He glared at his friend and turned away without answering him. Making his way back to the girl in white, he handed her a glass and asked her to stroll with him along the terrace. The night was beautiful, the sky full of stars, and he stared at the girl in white with his heart in his eyes as they stood looking out over the beautiful scene.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The girl in white turned to him with a sigh and said: “Thank you for the dance, Senor. It has been a very long time since I had such pleasure.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Let us dance again, then,” he said infatuatedly. But she shook her head.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“I must leave now,” she said, catching up her skirts with one hand and drifting toward the stairs at the side of the terrace.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Please don’t go,” he pleaded, following her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“I must,” she said, turning to look at him. Her eyes softened when she saw the look on his face. “Come with me?” she invited, holding out a pale hand.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">His heart pounded rapidly at the thought. More than anything in the world, he wanted to go with this lovely girl. And then his mind registered the fact that he could see the stone wall of the terrace through the girl’s hand. His desire melted away before the shock of that realization. He looked into her face again, and realized that she was fading away before his eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">At the look of horror on his face, the girl gave a sad laugh and dropped her hand, which was nearly transparent now.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Goodbye,” she said, her body becoming thin and misty. “Goodbye.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Then she was gone.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">He gave a shout of terror when he realized he had been dancing with a ghost. He bolted from the premises, leaving his horse behind, and ran all the way home.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">When Ernesto came the next day to bring him his horse, he told his friend the whole story. Ernesto whistled in awe. “You saw the spirit of Consuela, my friend,” he said. “She was the daughter of one of the local aristocracy who lived in this region more than a hundred years ago. She died of consumption the night before her first ball and they say her spirit sometimes attends the local dances, hoping to claim one of the dances that she missed.”<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">He shuddered at the thought of his dance with the ghost. “I will not be visiting that dance hall again,” he told Ernesto. “From now on, all my dances will be with Anita!”<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">And he kept his word.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-21313385973614653582013-05-09T09:15:00.000-07:002013-05-09T09:15:30.120-07:00Canción de Armadillo (Armadillo's Song) from Bolivia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRKsx53dpd310EGOcxfEg4sDe6fRF-TIt-ognF9H-jz9VUdBu7oPCWSMaC8r_WGSrF-6cWV7dJ0_pmLLSh_JyacqmAUDGX6XnEFxk1wDgSZcxZ5AYM_rxZuek7pdavpYv1a8-QVoRp89D/s1600/armadillocopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRKsx53dpd310EGOcxfEg4sDe6fRF-TIt-ognF9H-jz9VUdBu7oPCWSMaC8r_WGSrF-6cWV7dJ0_pmLLSh_JyacqmAUDGX6XnEFxk1wDgSZcxZ5AYM_rxZuek7pdavpYv1a8-QVoRp89D/s320/armadillocopy.jpg" width="242" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This story is about the Churango, a Bolivian instrument made from an armadillo hide.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">There once lived an armadillo who loved music more than anything else in the world. After every rainfall, the armadillo would drag his shell over to the large pond filled with frogs and he would listen to the big green frogs singing back and forth, back and forth to each other in the most amazing voices.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Oh,” thought the armadillo, “Oh how I wish I could sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The armadillo would creep to the edge of the water and watch the frogs leaping and swimming in a frantic green ballet, and they would call back and forth, back and forth in beautiful, musical tones. He loved to listen to the music they made as they spoke, though he didn’t understand their words; which was just as well - for the frogs were laughing at this funny animal that wanted so badly to sing like a frog.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Don’t be ridiculous,” sang the frogs as they played. “Armadillos can’t sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Then one day a family of crickets moved into a new house near the armadillo, and he was amazed to hear them chirp and sing as merrily as the frogs. He would creep next to their house and listen and listen all day, all night for their musical sounds.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Oh,” sighed the armadillo, “Oh how I wish I could sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Don’t be ridiculous,” sang the crickets in their dulcet tones. “Armadillos can’t sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">But the armadillo could not understand their language, and so he just sighed with longing and listened to their beautiful voices laughing at him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Then one day a man came down the road carrying a cage full of canaries. They were chirping and flittering and singing songs that were more beautiful even than those of the crickets and the frogs. The armadillo was entranced. He followed the man with the cage down the road as fast as his little legs would carry him, listening to the canaries singing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Oh,” gasped the armadillo, “Oh how I wish I could sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Inside the cage, the canaries twittered and giggled.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Don’t be ridiculous,” sang the canaries as they flapped about. “Armadillos can’t sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The poor tired armadillo couldn’t keep up with the man and the cage, and finally he fell exhausted at the door of the great wizard who lived in the area. Realizing where he was, the armadillo decided to beg a boon of the man.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Timidly, the armadillo approached the wizard, who was sitting in front of his house and said: “Great wizard, it is my deepest desire to learn to sing like the frogs and the crickets and the canaries.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The wizard’s lips twitched a little in amusement, for who had ever heard of an armadillo that could sing. But he realized that the little animal was serious. He bent low to the ground and looked the creature in the eye.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“I can make you sing, little armadillo,” he said. “But you do not want to pay the price, for it will mean your death.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“You mean if I die I will be able to sing?” asked the armadillo in amazement.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Yes, this is so,” said the wizard.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Then I want to die right now!” said the armadillo. “I would do anything to be able to sing!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The wizard and the armadillo discussed the matter for many hours, for the wizard was reluctant to take the life of such a fine armadillo. But the creature insisted, and so the wizard finally killed the armadillo, made a wonderful musical instrument from his shell, and gave it to the finest musician in the town to play.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Sometimes the musician would play his instrument by the pond where the frogs lived, and they would stare at him with big eyes and say: “Ai! Ai! The armadillo has learned to sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Sometimes the musician would play his instrument by the house where the crickets lived, and they would creep outside to stare at him with big eyes and say: “Ai! Ai! The armadillo has learned to sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">And often the musician would visit the home of his friend who owned the cage full of canaries - who was also a musician - and the two men would play their instruments together while the little birds watched with fluttering wings and twittered in amazement: “Ai! Ai! The armadillo has learned to sing.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">And so it was. The armadillo had learned to sing at last, and his voice was the finest in the land. But like the very best musicians in the world, the armadillo sacrificed his Life for his Art.</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-77026798309823788372013-05-08T07:51:00.000-07:002013-05-08T07:51:02.209-07:00Las Campanas (The Bells, a Mexican Ghost Story)<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">There once was an evil priest who did not fear God or man. His duties for the church included counting the offerings and ringing the bells to summon people to Mass. But his heart was filled with greed, and he began to take advantage of the good people of his parish. The priest stole money out of the offerings to keep for himself, and when he had filled a chest full of gold, he killed a man and buried him with the chest so the murdered man’s ghost would guard it. Anyone who tried to dig for the treasure would be devoured by the skeleton of the murdered man.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The evil priest planned to return to Spain with his ill-gotten treasure, but he fell ill with a fever a week before his ship was scheduled to leave. On his deathbed, the priest repented of his crime. He swore to his confessor that his soul would not rest until he returned the gold to God. The priest died before he could reveal the place where the treasure was buried. As he gasped out his last breath, he said: “Follow the bells. They will lead you to the treasure.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The Padre who attended the dying priest did not heed his words. But the sweeper who was working in the hallway at the time of the evil priest’s death was struck by the notion of buried treasure. He was very poor and wanted a better life for himself and his family, so the sweeper determined to take the treasure for himself. Each night for a week, he took a shovel and dug in the monastery gardens, searching for the priests treasure. He found nothing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">One night the sweeper was awakened from his dreams by the sound of the parish bells ringing out loudly in the darkness. He leapt to his feet, fearing some emergency, and then realized that his wife and children had not stirred in their beds. Remembering the evil priest’s last words, the sweeper felt sure that the mysterious ringing of the bells was for his ears alone, to lead him to the treasure.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Taking his shovel, the sweeper followed the sound of the church bells up and up into the hills. He was gasping for breath when he reached the source of the sound. He was on a wide ledge overlooking the valley. Two trees guarded the spot, and it was beside these trees that the glowing, ghostly church bells hovered. Taking his shovel, the poor sweeper dug a deep hole among the roots of the trees. After several moments, his shovel hit something hard! Eagerly, he swept the dirt away from the object and found a small chest. He hauled it out of the ditch with trembling hands, placed it on a rock, and broke the lock with the edge of his shovel. when he opened it, piles of yellow gold met his dazzled eyes. He gathered up a handful of coins, reveling in the weight of so much money. The coins were cool to his touch, and he felt the smoothness of the metal as he rubbed the coins between his fingers. And that was when he heard the moaning...<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Looking up, the sweeper saw the skeleton of the murdered man whom the evil priest had buried with the treasure. It was rising out of the pit under the trees, eye sockets glowing with blue flames. “Mine,” the skeleton intoned, stretching its bony arms toward the sweeper. “Mine!”<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The sweeper screamed in terror and leapt away from the box of treasure, dropping the coins that he held in his hands. He ran down the hill as fast as he could go, the skeleton in hot pursuit. Behind him, the bells began to ring again as he fled for his life from the ledge.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The sweeper kept running long after the sounds of pursuit ceased, and did not stop until he reached his home. It was only then that he realized he had left his shovel back with the buried treasure on top of the hill. it was an expensive shovel and he could not afford to lose it.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Waiting until daylight, the sweeper went reluctantly back up into the hills to retrieve it. When he reached the ledge, there was no sign of the skeleton, the chest of money, or the hole he had dug the night before. He found his shovel at the top of a tall tree whose first branches began nearly twenty feet above his head. The skeleton must have placed it there after it chased him down the hill, he decided grimly, knowing that there was no way he could retrieve it.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Turning sadly away, the sweeper’s eye was caught by a gleam in the bushes near the rock where he had placed the treasure chest the night before. Carefully, keeping his eye on the place where the skeleton lay buried, the sweeper felt around the rock until his hand closed on two gold coins that the ghost had missed. Casually he put the coins in his pocket and hurried from the ledge. When he got home, the sweeper put the coins into a sock and hid it under the floorboard for safekeeping.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The sweeper never went back to the ledge to retrieve the evil priest’s buried treasure, though sometimes he was still awakened by the mysterious sound of the bells. He knew it would take someone more pious than himself to banish the ghost of the murdered man and reclaim the money for God. But he did use the gold coins to send his eldest son to school, and with the left-over change, he bought himself a new shovel.<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-81633948075528909332013-05-07T08:43:00.000-07:002013-05-07T08:54:50.082-07:00El Principe Oso (the Bear Prince) from Mexico<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">Once upon a time there was a very poor woodcutter who had three beautiful daughters. Of the three girls, the youngest was the most beautiful. One day the woodcutter went into the forest and was chopping down an oak tree when a very large and horrible bear wrenched the axe from his hands.“Who gave you permission to cut the wood in my forest?” growled the bear. “You have been stealing my timber and now you must pay for it with your life.”<br /><br />“Please forgive me, Senor Oso,” said the poor woodcutter, “I was only cutting the wood to sell it and thus support my three little daughters. If you kill me, my little girls will starve.”<br /><br />The Bear remained thoughtful and then said, “There is only one way in which you life may be saved. You have to give me one of your daughters in marriage.”<br /></span><div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">The woodcutter didn’t know what to say or do. Finally the thought of dying and leaving his daughters destitute forced him to agree to the Bear’s proposal.<br /><br />The woodcutter returned home and told his daughters what had happened. “Father,” said the two eldest girls, “we would rather die than marry that Bear.” Ninfa, the youngest, said. “Father, I will marry the Bear.”<br /><br />Next day Ninfa and her father went into the forest where the Bear was waiting for them. After seeing the beautiful maiden, he was satisfied. Ninfa, however, said to the Bear, “If I must marry you, I want to be married according to the Catholic rites.”<br /><br />The woodcutter went in search of a priest and soon returned with one. Ninfa and the Bear were then married.<br /><br />The Bear took Ninfa to his cave, and when it grew dark he chanted:<br />“Bear so hairy, Bear so alarming,<br />Change into a prince handsome and charming.”<br /><br />In an instant the Bear changed into a handsome prince. He then told Ninfa, “I am an enchanted prince, cursed by a witch into being a bear by day and a man by night. You do anything you want around here but you must never reveal that I am an enchanted prince.” Ninfa, happily promised that she would never reveal the secret.<br /><br />The next morning they arose from bed, and the prince said:<br />“Prince so handsome, Prince so charming, <br />Change into a bear, hairy and alarming.”<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">In an instant the prince had changed back into a bear.<br /><br />Days followed days and Ninfa felt a desire to go and visit her family in the village. “I wish you would let me go to the village to see my father and sisters. It isn’t far, and if I leave early enough I will be back before it gets dark.”<br /><br />The prince finally consented. However, he made her repeat her oath never to reveal the prince’s secret.<br /><br />Next day Ninfa dressed herself richly and went to see her father and sisters, who welcomed her joyously. However, the sisters began to poke fun at Ninfa, jealous of the fact that she was wearing rich jewels and costly garments.<br /><br />“You married a bear, what shame!” the sisters repeatedly told her.<br /><br />So many times did the sisters repeat this, that finally Ninfa lost her temper and revealed her husband’s secret. The sisters were deeply amazed to hear Ninfa’s tale. The eldest one then said:<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">“Look, Ninfa, why don’t you disenchant the prince? When he goes to sleep, tie him up and gag him. As soon as day breaks and the prince wakes up, he will not be able to say the magic words. Then you will have a husband with a human form forever.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><br />Ninfa returned to the bear’s cave and that night did everything her sister had suggested. The prince awoke the next morning, and imagine his surprise at finding himself tied and gagged! He could not say the magic rhyme and the enchantment was broken.<br /><br />“Wife,” the prince later said to Ninfa, “you have broken your promise. To break the enchantment and live happily ever after, we two had to live happily married a year and a day. Since you have disobeyed me, you are going to have to look for me. You will not find me until you locate the Castle of Faith.”<br /><br />Saying this, the prince vanished and Ninfa was left alone. She cried and was sorry, for she truly loved the prince. Then, determined to be reunited with her husband, Ninfa decided to go and look for the Castle of Faith. Tying a few belongings together, she left on her search.<br /><br />She walked and walked and finally arrived at a forest where a wizard lived.“Nina,” said the wizard, “what do you want here in this forest?”<br /><br />“I am looking for the Castle of Faith,” answered Ninfa, “do you know where it is?”<br /><br />“I do not know.” said the wizard, “but follow this road until you reach my father’s house. He may know where the castle is. Take this nut and if you ever find yourself in trouble break it.”<br /><br />Ninfa thanked the old man, and left, finally reaching the house where the wizard’s father lived. The old man didn’t know either but said: “Walk along this road until you come to the house of my eldest brother. Perhaps he can tell you where the castle is. I am going to give you another nut just as my son did. If you find yourself in trouble, break it and it will help you.<br /><br />Ninfa walked and walked and finally came to the house of the third wizard. He also didn’t know where the castle was. He said: “The Moon probably knows. Follow this road and soon you will come to her house. But be careful, the Moon may be angry. I am also going to give you a nut. If you find yourself in trouble, break it.”<br /><br />Ninfa left. The poor girl was very, very tired, but at last that night she arrived at the moon’s house. She knocked on the door and a little old lady, who was the moon’s housekeeper, came out.<br /><br />“Merciful God! Daughter, what are you doing here?” asked the old lady. “Don’t you know that if the Moon finds you here she will eat you?”<br /><br />Ninfa tearfully told the old woman all that had happened. “Look,” said the old one, “you hide, and when the moon comes, I will carelessly ask her if she know where the castle is.”<br /><br />At dawn the moon came in, and said, “Human flesh I smell here. Give it to me or on you I will feast.” <br /><br />“Go on,” said the old woman, “you’re crazy. Just because there is a roast in the oven, you think it’s human flesh. Sit down and eat so that you can go to bed. You are very tired.”<br /><br />The moon sat down to eat and the old lady began to talk. “The other day an owl went by, and I got to talking with her. She told me she had heard about the Castle of Faith. You, who know so many things, surely know where this castle is.”<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">“I don’t know, the one who probably knows is the Sun.”<br /><br />The moon went to bed and the little old lady whispered to Ninfa, “Quickly, leave before the Moon wakes up. Go along this road and you will find the house of the Sun.”<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">Ninfa left and finally came to the Sun’s house. She knocked on the door and another little old lady answered.<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">“Valgame Dios, nina!” she exclaimed, “What are you doing here?” Don’t you know that if the Sun finds you here he will burn you?”<br /><br />Ninfa began to cry, and between sobs told her story to the little old lady. They were both gloomily taking when the house suddenly filled with light and the Sun came in. Poor Ninfa. She crossed herself and prepared to die. But the little old lady yelled.<br /><br />“Wait, Sun! Wait! this poor child is looking for the Castle of Faith.”<br /><br />“Ah!” exclaimed the Sun, “so you are looking for the Castle of Faith.”<br /><br />“I know where the castle is,” said the Sun. “But it is very far from here. I could take you, but I am not allowed to go out after dark. But near here lives my good friend, El Aire, the Wind. He can take you. When you get to El Aire’s home, you tell him that it was I who sent you.”<br /><br />Ninfa arrived at the Wind’s house. She knocked and the Wind screamed, “Come in whoever it is!”<br /><br />Ninfa entered and told El Aire that the Sun had sent her with a request.<br /><br />“Granted,” said El Aire, “no matter what it may be.”<br /><br />She told Senor Aire all that had adversely happened to her and that she wanted to go to the Castle of Faith.<br /><br />“Do not worry,” said El Aire, “I myself, will take you.” Ninfa straddled El Aire’s back, and in less time than it takes to wink an eye, they arrived at the castle. “Look,” said El Aire, “it seems that there is a fiesta in the castle.” “I have to leave,” he told Ninfa. “With the help of God, everything will come out all right.” And turning into a whirlwind, he rushed away.<br /><br />Ninfa knocked on the door of the castle, and a servant come out. “In what may I serve you?” asked the servant. <br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">“I would like to see the prince.”<br /><br />Ninfa entered the castle and saw her husband, the prince, eating at a table and surrounded by his guests. Ninfa tried so hard to get the prince’s attention that the bride saw her. She was an evil witch who with her magic had put a spell on the prince and made him marry her.<br /><br />The prince then saw Ninfa and recognized her immediately. He yelled at the servants, telling them to bring Ninfa to him, but with the noise nobody heard him.<br /><br />The witch screamed at her servants, “Run that beggar out!”<br /><br />The servants were about to lay their hands on Ninfa when the girl broke one of the magic nuts the wizards had given her. In an instant Ninfa turned into a little rat. When the witch saw this, she turned into a huge cat which began to chase the rat. The rat sprang atop the prince’s table, and onto his plate. There Ninfa broke another nut and turned into a grain of rice which became lost among many on the prince’s plate. The cat also jumped on the table, turning instantly into a chicken which began to eat the rice. Ninfa then broke the other nut and turned into a coyote which ate the chicken in one bite.<br /><br />Ninfa then was transformed back into human form to be reunited with the prince and both lived happily ever after.<br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-52378412444985156732013-05-06T10:15:00.000-07:002013-05-06T10:15:08.428-07:00El Conejo Sonriente<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3coLRGK7BpfiQi-gE58WmtYzv2oP120XygrxKlRENJHU66X2jWPpBKCVgBdQAKLYghgb6XAgqwL3cbT4hKFwBSTLUmr-ksJQiOFLSnVxbeFZiPBIlDmeFZG1N4fBcWQGh-Z0eQNo-4Dun/s1600/the.smiling.rabbit+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3coLRGK7BpfiQi-gE58WmtYzv2oP120XygrxKlRENJHU66X2jWPpBKCVgBdQAKLYghgb6XAgqwL3cbT4hKFwBSTLUmr-ksJQiOFLSnVxbeFZiPBIlDmeFZG1N4fBcWQGh-Z0eQNo-4Dun/s320/the.smiling.rabbit+copy.jpg" width="202" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> Here is the second piece along with the story.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> El Conejo Sonriente </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">(The Smiling Rabbit) from Mexico</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">An old man and his wife lived in a little house made of straw. They were very poor and all they owned were a rabbit and a young jaguar. When the old couple used up their last ear of corn, they decided to eat the rabbit and started heating water to cook him. When he saw that, the jaguar said to the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rabbit:</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“You won’t get out of this one. The old people are going to eat you and they will give me a piece.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“No, my jaguar friend,” said the rabbit- “the old folk are heating water to make hot chocolate for </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">breakfast.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“That’s not true. They are heating the water to </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">cook you.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“Not at all. What’s more, I can prove it. Get into </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">my cage and you’ll see; they’ll give you the first </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">chocolate.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The trusting jaguar went into the cage, the rabbit closed it and ran off. A long time went by and the jaguar tired of waiting for the old people to bring him his chocolate. When he realized that the rabbit had tricked him, he broke the cage and went after him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">After walking and walking, he found him in a cave. He was very angry and he showed his teeth as he said: “I caught you, rabbit! I’m going to eat you.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“What’s the matter, my friend? What are you talking about? I don’t know you. I have lived here for a long time. Now excuse me, can’t you see I am very busy? My house is falling down.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Oh, so you are not the one who tricked me?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">“Of course not! But, please help me. Lean against this wall while I go get a log to hold it up and keep it from falling. And don’t let go or it might crush you. So the jaguar stood on his hind legs and held up the wall.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A long time went by and the jaguar was tired. When he saw that the wall didn’t fall down, he realized that he had been tricked again. He took off after the deceitful rabbit, even angrier than before.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This time he found him hanging from an elastic vine that made him go up and down. The rabbit was so happy thinking of how he had fooled the jaguar that he didn’t notice when the latter took a great leap, pulled on the vine with all his strength and then suddenly let go. The rabbit went up and up through the air holding his belly and laughing, and finally he reached the moon. That is why on nights when the moon is full and red you can still see the rabbit </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">bending over holding his stomach with laughter. </span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-80559815801496529562013-05-04T12:10:00.001-07:002013-05-07T09:08:52.768-07:00La Camara Prohibida (The Forbidden Chamber) Mexico<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px;">This is from a new series of paintings based on folklore from Latin America.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGqEH-anSVpz-a4gPD3K6ZUbb-BWZRke9y1S8ViG5YgcrKqrSk36GuLsHaJF19I8QwieGusOpzKw6Vrgt5Bf6KPMOmMSOLzhzBUn0Nm4UYpwTYqJCYWr_k8x-3sXvZAoYiabTfSkzysxR/s1600/secretchamber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGqEH-anSVpz-a4gPD3K6ZUbb-BWZRke9y1S8ViG5YgcrKqrSk36GuLsHaJF19I8QwieGusOpzKw6Vrgt5Bf6KPMOmMSOLzhzBUn0Nm4UYpwTYqJCYWr_k8x-3sXvZAoYiabTfSkzysxR/s320/secretchamber.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12px;">Once there was an evil wizard who, dressed as a beggar, would go from house to house asking for alms and would steal the prettiest girls he could find. </span><b></b></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One day he knocked on the door of a house where lived a man with three beautiful daughters. The eldest opened the door and gave him a piece of bread.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When she gave it to him he touched her arm and hypnotized her. Then he made her enter the basket that he always carried on his back and took her to his house. Everything there was magnificent, and she had everything she could wish for.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After a few days the wizard told her that he had to go on a journey, that he would leave her the keys to all the house, and that she could enter every room except one. If she should enter that room she would surely die. Also, he gave her an egg and asked her to take good care of it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As soon as the wizard was out of sight, the girl looked into every room and found beautiful things that delighted her. At last she approached the prohibited chamber and after a moment’s indecision, her curiosity won and she entered the room.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What she saw made her tremble. There were </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">hundreds of girls that had been kidnapped and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">all looked as if they had fallen asleep. The girl, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">frightened at the sight, went running out of the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">room as fast as she could.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In her haste she dropped the egg that she carried in her hand, but it did not break. When she picked it up she noticed that the egg had turned red, and althought she tried to clean it, the egg stayed red.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px; min-height: 12.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After some time the wizard came back. He noticed what had happened to the egg, struck the girl, and dragged her into the prohibited chamber, where he left her with the others.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The wizard then went back to the same house and stole the second sister and the same thing happened to her.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He went back a third time and kidnapped the younger sister, but this sister was very wise. When the wizard gave her the keys and the egg, she took the egg and deposited it in the cupboard. Then she took the keys and went into the prohibited chamber. She was amazed at seeing so many girls lying as if in a profound sleep. Amongst them she recognized her two sisters.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She left the room and closed the door. When she heard the wizard returning, she took the egg and the keys and went to meet him.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“You shall be my wife because you have resisted curiosity,” he exclaimed.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As the girl had broken the spell, the wizard had lost his power and she could do with him as she pleased, so she went to the prohibited chamber and awoke</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She took a great big basket and in it she hid her two sisters covering them with pieces of gold. Then she told the wizard to take the basket but not to stop on the road because she would be watching him from the window. The man took the basket and started walking but soon was worn out by fatigue. He sat down to rest, but immediately heard a voice which said “I am watching you from my window.” Thinking it was the voice of his future wife, he got up and walked a while longer. Everytime he tried to rest, the same thing happened, until finally he reached the house where his fiancée’s parents lived. There he left the basket.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the meantime, his future wife took a piece of cardboard and made a head which she placed on the window sill of the second floor, making it look as if someone was watching from the window. Then she went and let out the other victims and invited them all to her wedding. Finally, she covered her whole body with feathers, disguising herself as a rare bird so that no one could recognize her, and left the house. Soon she met some of the guests that she had invited to the wedding and they asked her:</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“From where do you come beautiful bird?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“From the house where the wizard is being </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">wedded.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“And please tell, what does the beautiful bride do?”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“After being all dressed up in her beautiful wedding gown she leans out of the window looking down.”</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When the wizard returned home, the window of the second floor was open, he looked towards it and saw the head there. He thought it was his future wife and he ran excitedly into the house, but upon entering he encountered all the family and sisters of the girl, who dragged him into the chamber, locked the door and set fire to the house.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And this was the end of the wizard and his </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: -0.1px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">prohibited chamber.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">original $1600.00 </span></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'ITC Usherwood'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 40.5px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">limited edition giclee prints (11x18) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">$100.00 (by order only)</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-10443528068806445432012-10-14T22:24:00.001-07:002012-10-14T22:24:53.563-07:00Dorothy didn't go to Oz, she had a colliod cyst<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVLQ_vaRQZHhUaYXy_u-IDi1JH0DGt2IRjQpN4mOEhYaL0bDmYQfwHYTXb003AVN3DhZ2uX3Qk1UpB9N1Wc4m2dxEz2x4EzOJf2wmrm8Ya1jJdh60GHWONatYioWlZ-F9tHs9kXVX0vD6/s1600/synpic15320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVLQ_vaRQZHhUaYXy_u-IDi1JH0DGt2IRjQpN4mOEhYaL0bDmYQfwHYTXb003AVN3DhZ2uX3Qk1UpB9N1Wc4m2dxEz2x4EzOJf2wmrm8Ya1jJdh60GHWONatYioWlZ-F9tHs9kXVX0vD6/s1600/synpic15320.jpg" /></a></div>
Last night my husband went on an adventure of stealing an ambulance with our plumber, driving to Minneapolis, taking an abandoned child with him who had a burned hand from making cupcakes, and playing poker up on the golfcourse with his buddies.<br />
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In reality he was diagnosed yesterday morning with a colliod cyst. A gelatinous ball that is in the third ventricle of the brain and if gets too big will create fluid to build up around the brain, which to my understanding is not good. In fact so bad that it had to be taken out immediately. No discussion, no saying goodbye to relatives (just in case), no researching options, but get in the gown and start counting backwards from 100 right now. And while he was on his joyride with the plumber he was actually getting a hole drilled into his head.<br />
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After the surgery, in the ICU, he was surprisingly animated. He declared that he was a superhero, and I was not, and he needed five bucks for a cup of coffee, (he hasn't had a cup of coffee in 15 years), he then proceeded to fall asleep but just as my daughter and I started to leave he woke up long enough to recite his work phone number. I started this post 3 weeks ago, and my husband has come back to earth in that time, still some memory issues, still sleeping alot but after some investigation on his part is starting to believe he didn't take a joy ride in an ambulance the night of his surgery.<br />
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I guess this isn't that uncommon, it's congenital, a little tiny thing in the brain from birth for whatever reason started growing in his 50's. His symptoms were a constant headache for 3 weeks and freaky memory problems, he also had intermittent nausea. He was lucky to have a good friend that's a doctor who ordered an MRI because those symptoms don't usually get you in to see a doctor this time of year with the smoke from fires around Missoula, much less an MRI. Very happy to live in Missoula with so much support and very happy he is fine.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-6882144335449200952012-09-13T13:13:00.000-07:002012-09-13T13:20:19.086-07:00Calling on my Dobby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-nWOWt6ATFw-pQYSiVo2oOy_PhNMKPdSqQLJxL4AoNwpcHvb0VQto8UXkqZGtX0ipogsorqG4qpo2RzUMIujNWNnDi_AtdXiYg_FlMcJIYnhbAlXcJMn6BzRI0zV4SDhoBWeu0oQczxg/s1600/rockfish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-nWOWt6ATFw-pQYSiVo2oOy_PhNMKPdSqQLJxL4AoNwpcHvb0VQto8UXkqZGtX0ipogsorqG4qpo2RzUMIujNWNnDi_AtdXiYg_FlMcJIYnhbAlXcJMn6BzRI0zV4SDhoBWeu0oQczxg/s320/rockfish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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If you haven't seen Elizabeth Gilbert's speech on the creative process I guarantee any creative person can relate, plus she's really funny. She talks about the ancient Greeks and Romans having little creatures in the walls who come out when needed and secretly guide the artist. They were called Damons by the Greeks and Genius's by the Romans, kind of like Dobby the house elf. Cool thing is if something is really beautiful you can stay humble and if it's really awful you can blame it on Dobby.<br />
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And so here is my newest rock painting, I found the head in my backyard and built on the body, I think Dobby was there when I found the head because it couldn't have been more perfect. So perhaps this will be a popular local image in that Montana men love those fish and Montana women want something more interesting than a smelly old fish on the wall.<br />
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Here's the link to Liz Gilbert's speech <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html">http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-12621624812815577782012-08-13T21:17:00.000-07:002012-08-14T13:26:30.732-07:00Western Artist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdUpjyADkWV1b-1zjbP3lFbrIZ3RKpk5yW_08LFLSMrMS_t9wmuRUixq-q3Fuhq5LJQbhEhyphenhyphen7wM4SQWeFzNaJaU77s8dpM-whyphenhyphenS5Pjq0FWwJ1GXMDfNv4R4cBF4uzek1HK1d9RRiiRHAq/s1600/horsetemp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdUpjyADkWV1b-1zjbP3lFbrIZ3RKpk5yW_08LFLSMrMS_t9wmuRUixq-q3Fuhq5LJQbhEhyphenhyphen7wM4SQWeFzNaJaU77s8dpM-whyphenhyphenS5Pjq0FWwJ1GXMDfNv4R4cBF4uzek1HK1d9RRiiRHAq/s320/horsetemp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sure, I can be a western artist, I live in the west don't I?<br />
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There is only really one gallery in Missoula (the Dana Gallery) and my work only kind of fits in there as most of the artists paint western themes, but in my quest to get out there and be seen as much as possible I decided to try painting for their annual "Icons of the West Show". I decided to paint a horse. My first attempt was pretty awful being sort of a traditional looking horse and really didn't fit in with my latest work at all, and I discovered 2 days before the deadline that it didn't meet the size requirements either. So, a little rejected I slunk home vowing to try again next year when my husband said in passing, "why don't you paint a horse made up of stones?" Hmmmm, interesting idea. So I did, and here it is, and I sent it to the Dana a week late and they kindly accepted it anyway. Yay.<br />
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"the Stone Pony" oil on panel, 20" x 30"<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-76098850575207378022012-04-24T13:55:00.001-07:002012-04-24T14:09:43.158-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #e69138;">Rock and Roll</span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubIlZzWFlpOUWBEyg9X7vVoUOvijkdP-CAzDm8GgA-bKl7SEkSVbxH59ixQPGzjfo5ixk9R6aAsTHqiMg27EVFIJTPDN2x4csS_OLTxRlG-Jv1des7xSHSMnDxNxTOm1Qwx_bK_LGf_7c/s1600/dancersm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhubIlZzWFlpOUWBEyg9X7vVoUOvijkdP-CAzDm8GgA-bKl7SEkSVbxH59ixQPGzjfo5ixk9R6aAsTHqiMg27EVFIJTPDN2x4csS_OLTxRlG-Jv1des7xSHSMnDxNxTOm1Qwx_bK_LGf_7c/s320/dancersm.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Dancer, 36 x 48 oil on cradled panel</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dPOlXEvqZLAWvN0yjfj3aTzbmakhBh__OPs_etQcLK5S_GQFXAYtYQuF0-zXctq7t47XCpDA8Y52O4W7CcwG09u-Cil1gfhOA-Zsgst-d-AhW1Mq1EBcr5fE6d_EqHM_ha6NiYNs9lPG/s1600/snowsuitsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9dPOlXEvqZLAWvN0yjfj3aTzbmakhBh__OPs_etQcLK5S_GQFXAYtYQuF0-zXctq7t47XCpDA8Y52O4W7CcwG09u-Cil1gfhOA-Zsgst-d-AhW1Mq1EBcr5fE6d_EqHM_ha6NiYNs9lPG/s320/snowsuitsm.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Snowsuit, 36 x 48 oil on cradled panel</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqBv9ujFP0VEEKJ3vygJNHaA2z05BBkGhiGgdDWC1Zwkowwgjys0TOWr0HcUOBG8LV6R3hM6AMtOPHGxx-Y4EpROYYPxWc0MmNuLvWeH9ErmCL49i7t8bowWwImOIkjf01gKsDock92n-7/s1600/lookoutsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqBv9ujFP0VEEKJ3vygJNHaA2z05BBkGhiGgdDWC1Zwkowwgjys0TOWr0HcUOBG8LV6R3hM6AMtOPHGxx-Y4EpROYYPxWc0MmNuLvWeH9ErmCL49i7t8bowWwImOIkjf01gKsDock92n-7/s320/lookoutsm.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">Lookout, 20 x 30 oil on cradled panel</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">3 hours of painting a day. Minimum. Really. Don't laugh, I'm serious.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">Yes, and here's what came of that in a week. 3 new paintings that I like (especially "Snowsuit"). I picture my 3 year old who is now 11 with her snowsuit on, unable to do anything but waddle.</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-58692210287354807232011-01-27T16:30:00.000-08:002011-01-29T16:43:27.930-08:00Livin' the life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHIJmCrlhs6AqFYPdewtOEUvCI_MNBCuH5vm8-gAY-nexU8cBdn0IRBLkI4Z0YFMjoss7_oS72rVksU_0FpeXdZdaRoT8IM0883FvSaFIFknqogXHUKihE07mI_B3Do1ugvPCxjRrZKSq/s320/tlaquepaque-mariachi-fnl.jpg" width="320" /></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrz8BbKEy-gQVhgKdb0Ry5pWOmvqLsNvcfHeU_cr58UBBjXn1EmoMo2uuiXuUswyRQ9t92ugTuZXOxYq-h33m_yG8uLC1nDv3hiPyEKNnhKIVO_ypxUCukqtypHh7f2UusH7HoxXlp73g8/s1600/Juliotest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrz8BbKEy-gQVhgKdb0Ry5pWOmvqLsNvcfHeU_cr58UBBjXn1EmoMo2uuiXuUswyRQ9t92ugTuZXOxYq-h33m_yG8uLC1nDv3hiPyEKNnhKIVO_ypxUCukqtypHh7f2UusH7HoxXlp73g8/s320/Juliotest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Having finished my 100 paintings project and the following show in December, and 2 HuHot murals after that, I've been takin' it easy in January (to say the least). These 2 paintings are the last that I did before the show and are the "Portraits of Mexico" that I promised (7 months ago). I like the way they hang better than how they look in print so I'm not sure this multiple painting technique will continue, we'll see.<br />
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The show went great, I've learned, hire everything: hanging, food, have friends sell for you, it makes for a calm artist.<br />
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Next? I have my eye on a portrait of a Salish Native American elder, but maybe with a little twist if I can work it out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-30063078894602665472010-08-07T18:34:00.000-07:002010-08-07T18:50:18.308-07:00road weary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaaIMqqiUgaBUKYVioz7u8mAzcTdRxLT4AImhnbq5neqn6G7iEdeZICr-ZW3RXfTSJn1sguo8aGwGsBhxFiFguE9s762l5vtV2oKBvcvEcd0L1-oor8HHniRxmu4BsoWSUls29l6Zs32aD/s1600/montana.roadfull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaaIMqqiUgaBUKYVioz7u8mAzcTdRxLT4AImhnbq5neqn6G7iEdeZICr-ZW3RXfTSJn1sguo8aGwGsBhxFiFguE9s762l5vtV2oKBvcvEcd0L1-oor8HHniRxmu4BsoWSUls29l6Zs32aD/s320/montana.roadfull.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">As much as I hear artists sometimes complaining about Gallery fees of 50%, I've found myself sympathetic to the Gallery owner.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">Having my first show in the new studio space (with another artist) really opened my eyes to how much work wa</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">s involved wit</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">h</span> hanging, (which included installing a hanging system because of the entire building being made of brick) marketing, buying food, wine and then the act of selling the work (or trying to) which I don't think comes easily for most artists. Luckily in this case I think most people are very forgiving.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">I did manage to do very well at this show, selling 2 small pieces as well as the piece (or pieces) posted here, I was so excited that they wanted the entire grouping because it really does create a much more striking presence all together. This painting is made up of 16 - 12" x 12" pieces that were painted individually, I thought that it wouldn't be cheating in my 100 painting project if they were done as single paintings that made up a large one as long as I painted them one at a time. I actually didn't see the finished piece until I put them all together. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-38856789870857111512010-06-24T07:25:00.000-07:002010-06-24T07:25:19.917-07:00Slacker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYN-zzXJaCTHNtyTzNaBzn7xU5Axps_DZjX8BArgkwvAUMuIXnVqZRe6HhdFHQpKmR8zWrG9SLk2bh5CTJHxrF-H1vTSgI2FNaheKAFJzHwOqnjUpRszkh9mvav3KaBG5DRdUBplZ-X9e0/s1600/DSC_0082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYN-zzXJaCTHNtyTzNaBzn7xU5Axps_DZjX8BArgkwvAUMuIXnVqZRe6HhdFHQpKmR8zWrG9SLk2bh5CTJHxrF-H1vTSgI2FNaheKAFJzHwOqnjUpRszkh9mvav3KaBG5DRdUBplZ-X9e0/s320/DSC_0082.JPG" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqppySP3fDSMfe2nTDyOjL9B76wpwLvAolXSNv9PE_ImN5jxh0sj5aaISClhEz4IX-Jtyuiu9so8IJGOrjb0IPmlzSckTvOP2MD_DwMXtbb2v1yPoKqByvrN3PyiRJgm1i8QhTUmM6g5aL/s1600/DSC_0084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqppySP3fDSMfe2nTDyOjL9B76wpwLvAolXSNv9PE_ImN5jxh0sj5aaISClhEz4IX-Jtyuiu9so8IJGOrjb0IPmlzSckTvOP2MD_DwMXtbb2v1yPoKqByvrN3PyiRJgm1i8QhTUmM6g5aL/s320/DSC_0084.JPG" /></a></div><br />
A friend of mine asked me the other day to explain in one word how I was feeling as an artist that day, without question that word was slacker.<br />
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That doesn't mean I'm not busy, just not with the 100 paintings project. In fact a few weeks ago I finished another HuHot but this time I didn't travel to the site, I painted them on canvas and shipped them out to be hung by a paper hanger. This is the first time I've tried something like this so it was a bit of an experiment, but I'm really excited about the prospect of painting here. The photos are of them after being hung and I think they look fantastic.<br />
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</span></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-55649672189882224502010-05-25T15:58:00.000-07:002010-05-25T16:07:22.830-07:00The wonders of lithium.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxPUheFioG2JbcdJQxt7zwZBSu2ilvUcIAkS2lhK-BBn4lopWA9nPKv3Dd65KpyPxnp6q2Zz4KCX765KiNE8psivwH3x0EFRxmN6KlcfVN_Jnn9Y2Mw-6E50-WGAPJmqc0dUTe4Na4ork/s1600/casitariocaliente.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxPUheFioG2JbcdJQxt7zwZBSu2ilvUcIAkS2lhK-BBn4lopWA9nPKv3Dd65KpyPxnp6q2Zz4KCX765KiNE8psivwH3x0EFRxmN6KlcfVN_Jnn9Y2Mw-6E50-WGAPJmqc0dUTe4Na4ork/s320/casitariocaliente.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino;">After a 30 minute ride from Guadalajara we arrived in Rio Caliente, we found our casita and decided to try one of the infamous pools. The water here comes out of the river at 175 degrees, they use it for the pools, steam room and filter it for the drinking water so you always have to check the temperature of the pools before jumping in.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino;">Ever since I was little I've had this amazing reoccurring dream about swimming in water that surrounded me with silky softness and warmth, well these pools contain the water of my dreams with the added bonus of lithium, which causes you to walk around with a stupid grin on your face all day.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino;">Here's the thing about this place, Caroline, the woman who owns it employs almost completely from the neighboring town of La Primavera, she trains them or has them go off and be trained if necessary for things like the treatment rooms, and doesn't expect them to speak english unless they want to learn. So they take care of her and she takes care of them, in fact once she said "I don't sack them and they don't sack me". So when I said I like finding a place to hang out where the locals do, this is kind of like living with them. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino;">It's rustic but everyone's needs are met, no extras but I don't think I've ever felt so well taken care of in my life. In fact the birds are fed in the morning, the horses graze wherever they want, the plants are well cared for, everyone seems extremely happy inside this valley of the volcano. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-89830750088828681262010-05-24T20:53:00.000-07:002010-05-24T21:00:01.022-07:00Mexico continued<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino;"></span><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSG6Oe0BJFwkajv9oESMYeIyGDibZzGFwwyugQ5D023CCSwXzjf-WG9YgzOqFAVhTpDOZd-0AIwBm12gIZJVZDPlFRe9oNkSnZgq8MVGVWzqnzxj9PpoQ5P1l8Z9JWNTzJeSJthfQqRCc/s1600/IMG_0078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSG6Oe0BJFwkajv9oESMYeIyGDibZzGFwwyugQ5D023CCSwXzjf-WG9YgzOqFAVhTpDOZd-0AIwBm12gIZJVZDPlFRe9oNkSnZgq8MVGVWzqnzxj9PpoQ5P1l8Z9JWNTzJeSJthfQqRCc/s320/IMG_0078.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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</div><div>We hung out for a little while to check out some murals by Orozco that I was curious about. The first photo in the stairwell is at a government building and it is really spectacular, the ceiling is curved so as you are walking up the stairs the perspective of this face coming down on you is really amazing. The other image was taken at what used to be an orphanage and church. I think this is the chapel, cool murals, very monochromatic but all I could think of is how scared the kids must have felt when they were in there - lots of blood and guts.</div><div><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-83720430577021095182010-05-24T20:43:00.000-07:002010-05-24T20:43:29.238-07:00Update 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8eSZI1mnoiaHUKJw4sADIodLdPLffQVlh_Ol8b_YVZx9U07eDmX2z3S09utTnlhmhGVCATBpPcaV-8R7TFllcq64ITR2VQTs1MXZUmcZ_BuMatre5hBPQQvv4vbV82Kr3fSjd8YdH0at/s1600/IMG_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8eSZI1mnoiaHUKJw4sADIodLdPLffQVlh_Ol8b_YVZx9U07eDmX2z3S09utTnlhmhGVCATBpPcaV-8R7TFllcq64ITR2VQTs1MXZUmcZ_BuMatre5hBPQQvv4vbV82Kr3fSjd8YdH0at/s320/IMG_0065.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino;">Mexico. </span><br />
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</div><div>First, can I just say almost all of Mexico is <b>SAFE</b> for tourists. No one has Swine flu, and you won't be kidnapped by the drug cartel, fed to the dogs, forced to slave away in the marajuana fields, you won't even have to duck stray bullets. From what I understand all of these exaggerated events have taken place near the border and involve only the policia and the drug cartel and a few political figures, they don't care about us. But because of all of the bad press Mexico is really hurting from lack of tourists. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Second, I really love the people of Mexico, I've been here before several times but this time particularly they were so very warm and welcoming (perhaps because of the lack of tourism), and even allowed the stupid American to take pictures of them for my next series of paintings.<br />
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</div><div>So this was such a different sort of trip than I usually take. I'm one of those travelers that likes to find areas the locals hang out in and experience what they do. I don't necessarily try to do things that I can read about in a book and I really hate hate hate being waited on in some expensive resort. So the thought of going to a spa wasn't initially very attractive to me. But this is like no spa I've ever been to (or imagined, since I've never actually been to a spa). </div><div><br />
</div><div>We started off in Guadalajara for the first night staying in the historic area at Hotel Morales. Absolutely beautiful hotel in what used to be a house or hacienda, wonderful location and beautiful architecture. I've posted a stunning photo of the staircase that my friend Pam took. </div><div><br />
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The latest HuHot outside of Des Moines. Just one of the 9 walls.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-60457738651662497392010-04-16T17:54:00.000-07:002010-04-16T20:00:30.996-07:00...and once again more chairs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFREsZYjJWeFyv44W5XmGIOOpaZoWXXkjZwjkzBTNCHFwbXHlU5aTwicoWuVei4DUWpbnHN6mmnjTSJ-CX4ntS_WG8hLRzqc6u1VIG6r0P_5r1yGIThG4vwEbzmabG6iPVsldUua2MjolX/s1600/IMG_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9boN9bxTahKSGyK7vEe5aFeLBH08Wx7m_7wSwf1UC7mr-UdVVoHpHqbAdqirVVOKH1uL9VRgCgJXXmxMQOmKE8lbbkvGFKDdnnSaxcQM35A6jM7581kGHe-YDJh0KeCldWhFALNWIq8E/s1600/IMG_0005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd9boN9bxTahKSGyK7vEe5aFeLBH08Wx7m_7wSwf1UC7mr-UdVVoHpHqbAdqirVVOKH1uL9VRgCgJXXmxMQOmKE8lbbkvGFKDdnnSaxcQM35A6jM7581kGHe-YDJh0KeCldWhFALNWIq8E/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">I think the final tally is 11 chairs. To be honest I'm not feeling the love anymore, it was a good exercise though and it brought me to my next project (a secret for now), that I'm pretty excited about.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm leaving for the fabulous city of Des Moines on Monday to paint HuHot murals. I lead such a glamorous life!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-84747023537927032602010-03-30T22:29:00.000-07:002010-03-30T22:33:16.955-07:00chairs, chairs and more chairs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpiKjV6imO1zGscp-co6z8tUXPw6pxNczdDZ0aMi1fBrLxRx2wOruIW6mK69Ua2TLIYpsXSSEyR6Oxp8leUcI1CKaA7Ub-3OlwlwB52t_3SlnjHZAA784s-nTJI3IvDG848nzCPmjee_m/s1600/%2325+red+chairsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpiKjV6imO1zGscp-co6z8tUXPw6pxNczdDZ0aMi1fBrLxRx2wOruIW6mK69Ua2TLIYpsXSSEyR6Oxp8leUcI1CKaA7Ub-3OlwlwB52t_3SlnjHZAA784s-nTJI3IvDG848nzCPmjee_m/s320/%2325+red+chairsm.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTUNhVzHLsgG659gkJ5sUFIlfrBbflyfF1eUdXmvMIwDw_zZTES5aWWpMnBiZhwcnysJs8nHdCWAQLOCZvYPW7aC7b8YiXsVknVAawaMPJ5WvptcSnvTxkDhXMEG1AB12hDAhUQ71Kodk/s1600/%2326+lavendar+chairsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTUNhVzHLsgG659gkJ5sUFIlfrBbflyfF1eUdXmvMIwDw_zZTES5aWWpMnBiZhwcnysJs8nHdCWAQLOCZvYPW7aC7b8YiXsVknVAawaMPJ5WvptcSnvTxkDhXMEG1AB12hDAhUQ71Kodk/s320/%2326+lavendar+chairsm.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlOEVxZZRWqza9poOkVBuDg152k9w9CpJAVgjVXQahxbHC2GY_7K3qsACMXFkG1adac2gw3n9KqjBFI5jUoaXLc4rh0PSpsW5uu6SwokU3yyj4hYSrfObpLbVSQNBTCn67kt-BHm2lwR5/s1600/%2327+blue+chair+w:heartsm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlOEVxZZRWqza9poOkVBuDg152k9w9CpJAVgjVXQahxbHC2GY_7K3qsACMXFkG1adac2gw3n9KqjBFI5jUoaXLc4rh0PSpsW5uu6SwokU3yyj4hYSrfObpLbVSQNBTCn67kt-BHm2lwR5/s320/%2327+blue+chair+w:heartsm.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Very much done with the chairs. Not that I didn't appreciate them at the time but after 11 of them I'm ready to move on. It was kind of an interesting exercise though especially with color. It was fun to play with layering. And I'm getting a little antsy to paint large again, I can see some of these subjects working really well large scale.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-49398794048546154032010-03-18T09:53:00.001-07:002010-03-21T19:31:20.708-07:00Chairs. What?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfJZCzOOCmRfAj6-Red7PrvfbOkc1Sib1sKO3kuAQmqb7AGHpdkCqs70ITYskayZV0LJWLURcB-Oi2IQFax782SIhAd6KUnB3P14yqnrI80wI2q1r7tT25g1ggL2lGK8Ernrbxy9Tv3JV/s1600-h/yellow+chair.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450941305763738946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfJZCzOOCmRfAj6-Red7PrvfbOkc1Sib1sKO3kuAQmqb7AGHpdkCqs70ITYskayZV0LJWLURcB-Oi2IQFax782SIhAd6KUnB3P14yqnrI80wI2q1r7tT25g1ggL2lGK8Ernrbxy9Tv3JV/s320/yellow+chair.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 318px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYQLPg-lplc_43h-yjWjFVTiybcgiSJGOvFXQsfSbOgJOSv1wHh3UO-iGrVKxqQiJ4Nnh6HnNDo1Jy4PXgsss_b3KsNMDI3mYW2QkcJ117O6j7wElPGWxGYv0UBpI17vNqUG9YOJkM0gP/s1600-h/2+chairs.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450941294304856066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihYQLPg-lplc_43h-yjWjFVTiybcgiSJGOvFXQsfSbOgJOSv1wHh3UO-iGrVKxqQiJ4Nnh6HnNDo1Jy4PXgsss_b3KsNMDI3mYW2QkcJ117O6j7wElPGWxGYv0UBpI17vNqUG9YOJkM0gP/s320/2+chairs.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 318px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_vYOYjCbKRMQK-Dzqw40zLrGkXKU36UNDGYXHajEwFFoD6OBzKoqh9z7pVdOzXftHP2ZWiVpnvXP-wEBe2moEpv8U46cTkfHhPFDWsxVoY2LfF4ExQtLrpnGPVi1ijzSyLHIJdYthc2w/s1600-h/aqua+chair.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450941285759488946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_vYOYjCbKRMQK-Dzqw40zLrGkXKU36UNDGYXHajEwFFoD6OBzKoqh9z7pVdOzXftHP2ZWiVpnvXP-wEBe2moEpv8U46cTkfHhPFDWsxVoY2LfF4ExQtLrpnGPVi1ijzSyLHIJdYthc2w/s320/aqua+chair.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 319px;" /></a><br />
Not many people know this about me but if I hadn't become an artist I probably would have become either an interior designer, travel agent, or a marine biologist (or a psychotherapist<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Palatino; font-size: medium;">, </span>but that's another story). Another thing that perhaps is a little weird about me is that I have always (since I was a little kid) seen objects as having their own human personality (hence eccentric artist). So when I was looking for a subject to paint that would allow me to do some color studies but still have tons of personality that could stand alone on a panel, I chose the chair. I love how many crazy chairs there are out there, I could literally find enough to get through the entire 100 paintings. <br />
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</div><div>So here are the first 3 (of 10 not of 100) of the chair series.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-79986509902857687202010-03-11T20:54:00.000-08:002010-03-11T21:15:40.320-08:00#19 and 20 the ugly<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCKS7uVCxQYJZ3A9-Q4F4FUKlya999UBxHcAaGdrjBsCoC2n0YlQ-nTF5ZJjquxAEqeDDTRm8iiPp5YQ16iy6NjkxeFGrpI9UGhOl7CdSXr-QN5Tn6XseHVaobfrPrbxIdwaX-yawB6Sp/s1600-h/DSCN1566.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCCKS7uVCxQYJZ3A9-Q4F4FUKlya999UBxHcAaGdrjBsCoC2n0YlQ-nTF5ZJjquxAEqeDDTRm8iiPp5YQ16iy6NjkxeFGrpI9UGhOl7CdSXr-QN5Tn6XseHVaobfrPrbxIdwaX-yawB6Sp/s320/DSCN1566.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447607525420684706" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpx6t5-oE8c5pc6_p-V3YvK88UC_Gm0OdGUGEOz5ksuK8Su2y9BvsLiAELYvtaz58id1-DqUz6xgtLdpBLgM2JlTN27jppmMHFuLVK74KFvY9-aqONhpa0GFDAbgfOhQXBvJe15D9BkQc/s1600-h/DSCN1570.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpx6t5-oE8c5pc6_p-V3YvK88UC_Gm0OdGUGEOz5ksuK8Su2y9BvsLiAELYvtaz58id1-DqUz6xgtLdpBLgM2JlTN27jppmMHFuLVK74KFvY9-aqONhpa0GFDAbgfOhQXBvJe15D9BkQc/s320/DSCN1570.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447607520104313762" /></a><br />So here are the two landscapes that I really want to paint over but I won't quite yet, not until I really need the panels. I think what I don't like is that I thought I could whip them out and didn't pay enough attention to the drawing, good lesson, the drawing is everything.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1297850871442720156.post-42041535440073719782010-03-06T20:44:00.000-08:002010-03-06T20:49:15.486-08:00Sad newsOn a sad note, the artist Robert McCall died last week at 91. In an older post I talked about going to his studio last year with my mom's art league and seeing him again after almost 30 years. He was truly a talented, kind and generous man.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0