Last night I was up late working in the studio. Before finally calling it a night and going to bed, I wrote my husband a note. I do this most nights. I like to stick a post it or other piece of paper where he will see it upon waking, since he wakes up at such an ungodly hour and I'm still sleeping.
(I'm a total night owl, shocker right?)
Just a quick, "I love you, have an awesome day, etc.," or other silly thing if the mood strikes me. I recently acquired a cute little note pad with a bunch of simple, stylized cats.
Sometimes, I write thought bubbles above their heads.
It's fun.
Last night, I realized there wasn't a black cat. I understand why for logical design purposes, but really, I mean, how could they?!
So, I fixed it.
I then wrote the note.
I got a sweet return note from my Husboo, so I was still thinking about black cats, and cats in general upon waking. Then I started thinking about my Gran's cat, and Siamese cats.
As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I have some upcoming travel, and I need to square some things away before packing up. (Well, need is a relative term. You know how that goes.)
It all started with good intentions, and I was on track, even ahead of schedule, so I took some time to scroll through the interwebs to read my newsfeed.
I came across the hashtag #BadgersDay several times and just had to learn more.
My husband is a huge fan of the honey badger, and I've watched a few documentaries on the clever creatures. Was is about Wisconsin? Nope. (Click here to visit the Badger Trust.)
It turns out, there's a sad occurrence that is leading National Badger Day to trend across the UK.
There is a badger culling that is currently happening. :'(
I won't go into all of the details, but it seems the science behind it may not even be solid, and reminds me very much of our own horrendous black bear hunt right here in Florida.
This cartoon tweeted by Peta UK not only brought tears to my eyes, an audible sob escaped my throat and made me push my to-do list to the side for a bit longer. I read more about them. I cried more. I decided to sketch up a zentangle in honor of the badgers. (And to chill out on the feels.
However, when I was taking a quick morning break, I remembered I needed to do my quarterly sales tax before vacation. Well, S$^#! That had to get done, and then the dog needs bathing, her food needs cooked, and laundry, jeez. I gotta go.
So, the badgers will have to wait here until I can get back to them to finish, and that might be after travel. Let me know if you think I should go all out, or leave this drawing minimally inked so it can be used as a coloring page.
I don't think they will mind too much. A safe place to hide seems like a nice thing.
I am the first to admit how very lucky I am to live in a place that many people visit on vacation.
I'm a wand-wielding Potterhead and pass-holding Space Center nerd with golden brown flip flop tan tines.
My 1st neighbor, day 1 in FL!
While I do enjoy the theme parks and beaches that tourists flock south to, it's the wildlife and lush surroundings that feed my soul. My daily encounters with animals, including endangered and threatened species, are typical yet so very special to me.
Since the very first day I moved to Sunshine State, the Florida Sandhill Crane has played a part in this chapter of my life. These birds are stunning to say the least. Their long, elegant lines and deliberate and graceful movements are mesmerizing, and their trumpeting calls are very distinct.
(That same call can also be incredibly heartbreaking to listen to when one crane is calling for a mate for seeming days on end, but that leads me to the next reason I love them so.)
Sandhill cranes mate for life and stay in family groups. You'll often see groups of 2 or 3. The female usually lays two eggs, and if both eggs in the clutch hatch and survive, you'll see a family of four. Juveniles stay with the parents up to 10 months. Families of four make me especially happy, because they are currently a threatened species due to destruction of habitat. The Florida Sandhill Crane, or Grus canadensis pratensis, is a non-migratory sub-species of the sandhill crane family that only numbers around 3,000-4,000. You might see numbers increase during winter months, but those are actually the migratory cranes, Grus canadensis, from northern states.
(So buy a house that's empty, guys. We need our wetlands!)
The sandhill crane is very secretive, selective, and protective of its nest location. This is another reason that habitat conservation is so vital. While it might seem like they are plentiful because we see them roaming neighborhoods, it's very important not to feed them. Habituation to humans can lead to dependence, aggression, property destruction, as well as an increase in roadway deaths.
In the wild, these birds can live up to 20+ years. Let's keep it that way. :)
My husband and I have a special place for them in our life. He used to say with a huge smile, "Bird family!", every time we saw a specific crane group when we started dating, as they walked around the neighborhood where I lived.
Now, we are visited daily by families of cranes in a home where we live as a married couple.
Another incredible sight to see is the crane dance. These birds have a beautiful dance that they use for mating, social bonding, educating their young, and some scientist think at times it may even be play.
If you follow my art, you know I like to also look to the historic esoteric symbolism and qualities attributed to animals.
Some say Sandhill Cranes are totems of privacy and keeping your own counsel, protection of family, longevity, balance, grace, and the "dance of life". For me, they are a symbol of knowing what is important to you and guarding it with all of your heart while remaining upright and balanced. This is not an easy task, but when we call out to those that love us, we will prevail, and we will dance in the process.
Most of you know I love painting animals not only for their beauty and unique characters but also for their interesting and rich symbolism.
I'm sure you also know that most plants and trees have an abundance of historical meanings, as well.
In my latest watercolor, I have paired the wisdom and intelligence we associate with the owl to the gorse, or furze tree.
Work in progress.
This shrub, or hedge tree, is also sometimes called furze and is native to Europe and northwest Africa.
The bright yellow blossoms have a very long flowering season.
Between all of the different species of gorse, there will most always be sunny flowers to admire, hence the saying,
"When gorse is out of blossom, kissing's out of fashion".
The gorse has many layers of symbolism.
I won't bore you with more dry botany facts, but it's a fascinating plant and understanding its history and many facets can help you understand why it represents so many different things. Look it up sometime. :)
Here's a quick rundown of the powers or the furze;
Intelligence, protection, healing, love, vibrancy, light, industry, independence, fertility, symbiosis, intuition, hope, courage.
12" x 16",
Watercolor on Arches Cold Press
While the furze does represent intelligence (because yellow is the color of the intellect), I choose the gorse blossom because its meaning is so much deeper.
Wisdom is not intelligence quotient.
Wisdom is a culmination of the head, heart, body, and soul.
Wisdom is discerning when to use what and just how much.
Just like most of my paintings, it was a personal reminder to seek balance and nature is where I find it most. :)
If you follow my work at all, you know the ‘trail’ is a very important part of my artwork and play. I take to it almost daily to get exercise, find inspiration, recharge, and just occasionally zone out. It was during one of these zone out moments that the fawn found me.
I have come across many deer in this particular area of the trail. They usually bound in front of me when I’m racing home against an oncoming storm (leaving me standing in awe for several minutes and giggling with delight only to get soaked in the rain).
This deer crossed the trail and then came back out onto the path to watch me. It was small, and therefore was hard to tell if it was a large yearling or a small doe. However, it’s usually a buck yearling that enters a clearing alone first, and antler sheds would have just been starting to occur in the last two months as daylight hours grow. At a few points, he/ she was close, but not close enough for me to see an exact gender.
I was soon fairly convinced that this was a fawn rather than a doe, due to its curiosity and lack of wariness an older doe would have had. I adjusted my pace accordingly, letting the fawn stay a comfortable distance while he examined me. This lasted for several minutes before I decided it had to be documented. Try as I might, the velcro sound from my armband may as well have been firecrackers. The fawn ran down the trail and into the trees as I took my cell phone out to get a photo. I made my way down the trail, trying to focus the iPhone camera, and the fawn popped back into view. I also got a video after this shot, but somehow managed to delete it. (I’m ultra tech clumsy like that.)
All in all, these moments left me with a great sense of peace and wonder. The innocent curiosity of the fawn was energizing and brought me such joy, yet a slight sense of sadness. I knew the other deer had always been around before. I hoped they were just too wary to step onto the trail while a human was near. This encounter was very meaningful to me. I had to paint it.
I thought I would work on Yupo paper to continue the look of my latest pieces like True Blue Jay andCardinal Direction, but keep it small.
Boy, was I in for a lesson. It was actually really quite appropriate.
If you’ve ever painted on yupo paper, you’ll know what I mean. It’s a non-porous surface, meaning the paint isn’t just absorbed into the paper if applied in a fluid manner. It pools and flows, makingreally cool and visually interesting marks. The paint doesn’t just sit on top and dry as such. It has a mind of its own. If you are wanting your subject to be representational, or recognizable to the viewer, this requires much patience and vigilance. However, I really like the look of this medium, and it’s worth the sometimes arduous adventure that comes with the territory.
Fawn Rising
When the drips ran down from the legs, I grabbed my paper towel to dab it up, but stopped myself.
Not only did the watercolor runs resemble a reflection in water, but they symbolized growth.
What is this pool of paint doing? How is this pigment interacting with that one?
The fawn would grow into a deer that knew when to be curious and trust and when to dart away from predators before they could even be heard.
The deer teaches us to be keenly aware at all times.
What’s going on around us? How can we be gentle and graceful while protecting ourselves?
The slightest breeze or movement could signify a change.
The fawn is curious and playful, exploring and trusting;
and the deer is ready to change course at a footfall.
Last week I kept seeing Cardinals everywhere. He was on the trail everyday when I ran.
He showed up in my yard. It was one of those things where I knew it wasn’t going to stop until I painted him.
I’m really glad I did. I needed him to remind me.
There is somuch I could write on the cardinal, but I'll save a few tidbits for the next painting he graces. ( I know he's not done with me.) Cardinals hold significance on many levels for me. I was born a Buckeye, so these fierce little songbirds will always hold a place in my “heart of it all”. (Along with Ohio, the cardinal was also named state bird of Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, North Carolina, Virginia, and West Virginia.) They are gorgeous birds with a song that truly does sound like “cheer”. Seriously, youtube it. It’s even more special to me that the reddish brown and gray females of this species, while not as bright and bold in color, actually do sing. This puts a damper on the former theories that birdsong was only a male trait for sexual selection. For me, it’s a great metaphor for women everywhere. We have a voice, and it’s not all about mating. Sing on, sister! Although cardinals do mate for life, which leads to this next interesting fact- Male cardinals actually lose some of their brilliant crimson color while helping to rear nestlings. They are great parents that fiercely protect the nest. Dad birds. What?! I know, right?
But when they aren’t being awesome bird fathers, they are territorial and aggressive. They are known for fighting with other crimson cards, including those they see reflected in glass.
Warriors, indeed. Cardinals can also be a warning symbol of aggressive vanity that might be holding us back.
It’s easy to see why the male cardinal’s fiery crimson plumage always captures our attention, especially on those bleak winter days. But there really is so much about these birds that brings me awe and peace, it’s no wonder that the final and most important symbol of a cardinal is that of an esoteric nature.
Many say that seeing a cardinal is representative of a visit from a loved one that has passed.
All of us live our daily lives with a certain amount of heartache for those we have lost.
Some days can be a proverbial blizzard. The forest is whipped with icy winds, the snow is blinding, our feet and hands are numb, and the tears freeze on our eyelashes. It makes it hard to see the path let alone keep on walking.
Then a brilliant flash of red reminds us it won’t be winter forever. The sun will shine. The snow will melt. The wind will subside. A song of Cheer.
I titled this painting Cardinal Direction with that in mind.
When we are mindful, seeing these birds can influence how we direct our steps and our thoughts afterward, even through the bitter cold winds. Thank you, Cardinal.
Do you have a cardinal story?
I'd love to hear it. Please, leave a comment or Contact me. :)
Today is the last day I have to paint before my husband's birthday weekend. I wanted to keep up with the 30 in 30 pace, so I planned on cranking out 3-5 small, simple, (maybe even abstracted) expressive watercolors. I had tons of ideas, and today was even National Wildlife Day.
So many animals are running around in my head waiting to be painted!
However, today also would have been my grandmother's 77th birthday.
I was sad for a bit at the beginning of the day.
I pondered our mortality, but that soon gave way to a shift in my painting plans. Much like a four year old, I delight in using my artistic talents to create gifts for those I love. I decided to paint my grandmother a birthday present, but there's only one animal that comes to mind when I think of my grandmother; cats.
Specifically, a Siamese cat named Baby. (There was Bubba, too, but it was Baby that was around most when I was a kid.) Baby was beautiful.
Baby loved my grandmother. Baby did not exactly love everyone else. In fact, that cat was downright hateful. She was prone to scratching and biting, and I'm pretty sure all of the grandchildren feared that cat more than we could ever let Gran know.
Now that I've had the experience of loving a pet that does not like many others (especially children) and would just as soon bite them as say hello, I understand why Gran loved that cat so much.
She lived alone.
When she sat outside on her porch shelling green beans, the cat was her companion.
When the grandkids couldn't visit, it was Baby the cat that laid in bed watching The Golden Girls with her.
That cat was her companion, and if somebody didn't like her hateful cat, so the hell what?!
I understand that, now. And now, I love that cat simply for loving my Gran.
Hear that, Gran? Your cat had an attitude, and your cat was awesome. Just like you.
If you know me or are fairly familiar with my art, you know I love animals, especially dogs.
All dogs are great. Allow me to explain and get Seuss-esque for only a moment;
Fluffy or sleek, loud or meek,
Agile and spry, or just happy to lie,
I love dogs, the great and the small.
I love the dogs, I do love them all.
Yes, breeds A to Z, their pups I adore,
Except that I love,
Small ones a bit more.
WAIT! Don't get me wrong, and don't sic your Staffie on me. I've loved my fair share of medium and large dogs. My first dog was a chow chow and my 2nd, 3rd, and 4th were Aussie mixes. (Super smart and loving dogs!) Neapolitan Mastiffs simply melt my butter. If we ever live in a colder climate and have the acreage, Husboo will certainly be in search of a Russian Caucasian before we unpack. I'm also in love with Irish Wolfhounds. But when you've had the experience of being rescued by a teeny tiny canine and her becoming your companion, it's hard not to project those same feelings onto similar sized pups.
I may like small dogs, but guess what;
I hate painting small.
For my second September painting (I'm not even going to say it's the 2nd of 30, because that's just insane) I attempted my first teeny tiny watercolor portrait.
For me, watercolor is so nice because it flows and has a mind of it's own. You think you know what will happen, then the paint laughs in your face and you either readjust or go with the flow and see where it takes the painting. This aspect of the medium is also what can be ultra annoying if you have a specific end in mind. Couple that with a 5"x7" portrait on aquabord and quite a bit of strife can ensue. By no means was this a fast, whip it out in under an hour, quickie painting.
I struggled to retain a wet-on-wet technique and still have the detail I wanted for this piece.
(A couple of paper towels were harmed in the making of this painting.)
I have a new found respect for the daily painters that crank out small works all the live long.
It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of fight in the dog. And this one gave me a pretty good round, now to give him a name...
I often come across tortoiseson my daily trail route, but this guy made me stop and rest for a bit. It's not the most exciting trail sighting, it's actually very common. Somehow I usually go right by the slow pokes, a quick nod and smile, then I continue looking for more exotic creatures to ignite my creative spark.
Although I often whine about needing to, I rarely take the time to slow down. Life gets busy and it all seems to pile up so high that I can't see the green grass all around me.
This tortoise was exactly what I needed this week.
I had the chance to snap a few pictures of him (or her!) eating, and I when I got home, I decided to clear my schedule for the day.
I ignored emails and texts, I ate a weird concoction of all the things I was craving (sauerkraut, almond cheese, and pepitas)
I enjoyed an afternoon thunderstorm, and then went into the studio and painted myself a tortoise.
(New meaning of fun with alcohol)
See? Going into your shell isn't always a bad thing!
This original painting is a very unique piece of my work unlike my other watercolor paintings, as it
combines watercolor and alcohol on a canvas panel coated with watercolor grounds. The alcohol drips and
mediums make a very unique effect on the non-traditional watercolor
surface.
Visit me on facebook and comment for a chance to win an art print.
Do you need to slow down and draw into your shell?
Let the tortoise remind you to protect what's really important; you!
If you would like to add this "Slow & Steady" original painting to your art collection,
After dragonflies kept appearing to me, following me, and even
landing on me, I was a little baffled.
I would see literally dozens of dragonflies every day that I went on my trail run or ride. (Ummm, ok, so it's actually not very cool when you're zoned out while
running and one of these big guys flies right into your face or lands
on your neck.)
When they started showing up at my house, I knew I couldn't ignore it as coincidence. It was time to learn more about this mesmerizing winged
animal totem.
A few years ago, I was a volunteer at Hospice Savannah. As the art activities facilitator of a children's bereavement group and photographer at Camp Aloha, I often came across the lovely and comforting story of dragonflies.
I can't say that I undoubtedly think these visitations are a sign that a
departed loved one is trying to communicate with me, but I do know that
a wise woman looks deeper and considers how she might apply the
traditional myths of such a coincidence to her own situation.
Transformation, transition, transcendence, light, and
seeing past illusion are just a few things dragonflies symbolize. They
have also been seen as a sign of good luck, and the loose style I felt
needed to communicate their energy fits perfectly into my luck series, so of course, I painted a dragonfly.
Glittering light on dragonfly wings is very reminiscent of a druzy.
A Druzy is a fine coating of crystals that have grown on a rock
fracture surface, and I've always been drawn to them. I thought it was a
fitting title since the dragonfly can
symbolize light and transition. Through brokenness and loss, we can
often see light that would have otherwise remained hidden. Since I painted the dragonfly, I haven't seen quite as many on the trail, but I'm keeping my eyes open for the next muse mother nature sends to me. This Dragonfly Druzy is titled and ready to find a new home!
Does the dragonfly speak to you?
It may be time to look past illusion and toward transition. Let the
mystery and magic of the dragonfly guide you through growth and
transcendence.
Artwork & Play 
