Saturday, June 21, 2014

Home Babies


 Something about the recent story, about children who once lived in an Irish home for unwed mothers possibly being buried in a tank near the now torn down home's location, just moved me.  There was a photo shown taken years ago of some "home" children barefoot, dressed in hats.  I have painted four in black and white and a 5th painting of the Virgin Mary in color (a statue of her overlooks the presumed burial plot). 8x10".


 Found out I am not fond of painting in black and white, but seems to suit the subject.


These are not complete.  How is it that the first drafts of a painting seem to lay down easy  and with excitement (for me) but then finishing the painting is slow and tiring.


Might like something more here, like a little bird.  And ditto for the girl in second painting.

I have also written a poem to go with them.  Soon to come.  I see them hanging with the Virgin Mary in the center and one of these paintings on top, the two sides and bottom of her painting.  Somehow the poem is to be presented too.  Not that I will "show" them anywhere.  Also I think they would be more impressive done much larger.  But it is a sad subject and I might not push myself further with it.

Sunday, June 08, 2014

Little paintings


 Original acrylic paintings done on cradled birch wood.  8x8.   Been working on these for awhile.  It is harder to paint than I remembered.  Planting Seeds.

 Girl Reading

 Angel of Mercy

Mermaid Dreams

All are listed on my Etsy site.  After many tries I have now succeeded in getting the Etsy link with photos onto my blog. At first I didnt like painitng on wood as opposed to canvas.  But I grew to like it.  Actually when I lived in San Francisco in the 60's I would collect small wood panels out of  sidewalk trash and paint on them.  A friend still has one. Canvas of course has more "give."  And I feel the revisions go better on canvas.  I painting totally by reworking/revising.  It was fun.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

Poem Pond Life

Pond Life

In calm weather my surface, a bright foil sheet,
reflects the oak and birch on my banks.
Some days I ripple with wind.
My waves sparkle-- a sequined Cher.
Cows kiss me with rough tongues.
Under their dark-eyed gaze, I shiver.
Dragonflies hover, hesitant lovers.
Beetles skim and tickle.
Ducks and turtles pierce my skin.
Fish and frogs hide in my depths.
Leaves and mud ground me.

Spring. The farmhouse dog paddles through my abundance.
A school girl collects a jar of me. Under the microscope
she sees water bears and pond fairies.
Winter. Children skate my frozen chemistry.
Fall. I dry up like an aged woman,
my innermost skin cracked and cratered.
Summer.  An elderly gentleman drowns under my cold blanket.

A little pond on a little farm,
in my dreams I am the sea.

S. Pope 5/2014