Month: December 2014

Here comes sunshine

I got out today on the bicycle for the first time since the rains came through. My knee healed up nice from my recent attempt at bicycle slip n’ sliding. The hills around were looking quite refreshed. I know the water table is still low, but it’s good to see some evidence we’re on the right track. At the very least I’m on the right track.

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Up.

I was walking down the side of Old Airport Road. I looked up to see a Hawk fly over. The air was still and blue. I was wearing a light jacket and there was mud on my shoes.

I thought about how one would take a mental photograph.

Today I sat in the darkroom necessary (not so dark) to develop that image. I used acrylic paint to do the dirty work.

You know how these start by now. Pencil time and cartoon show reruns on Netflix.

You know how these start by now. Pencil time and cartoon show reruns on Netflix.

Formulating a plan as I work along.

Formulating a plan as I work along.

Hawk comes to view. But what about the sky?

Hawk comes to view. But what about the sky?

Applying the blues with an old t-shirt. It came together the way I hoped... though I wish I hadn't spilled paint on my pants again. Though  they were all ready blue jeans.

Applying the blues with an old t-shirt. It came together the way I hoped… though I wish I hadn’t spilled paint on my pants again. Though they were all ready blue jeans.

Western Scrub Jay (Again, again, again).

Scrub pencil Jay.

Scrub pencil Jay.

When all was said and done yesterday I found myself wondering the last time I saw the color blue on the end of my brush. I scribbled down a Scrub Jay before I went to bed. Tonight after working on a different project I colored it in.

And to my delight saw blue on the end of the brush again.

The blues ain’t so bad…

A lot simpler in pen.

A lot simpler in pen.

Blue.

Blue.

Ripple.

“Reach out your hand if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full may it be again,
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.

There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.”
-Robert Hunter, “Ripple”.
My first Kestrel in true watercolor. I had stuck to watercolor pencil finding the paint form to be too challenging. A good friend gave me the nudge to dive in, and the process has been far more entertaining and enjoyable than I had ever imagined. While I haven’t begun to scratch the surface of its potential, at least so far my kestrel doesn’t look like a ninja pigeon.
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Flight path.

A pose I had sketched a lot in October. Here it finally came to life in pen this evening with the help of a visit from a Red-Tailed Hawk on my way home tonight. Inspiration move me brightly…

Penciled in like an appointment I never planned to keep.

Penciled in like an appointment I never planned to keep.

Turns to splintered sunlight on my page.

Turns to splintered sunlight on my page.

Hawks help me get lost in the meadow of my imagination.

Hawks help me get lost in the meadow of my imagination.

Warblers for Rachel.

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It’s not often you can pin-point a creative breakthrough by looking through a drawer full of receipts, notes, and sketches.
I found this a few weeks ago while cleaning out my file cabinet (cardboard box in closet).
My sister painted it and included it with a letter she wrote me.
I remember the first time I saw the painting and thinking to myself, about how much I wanted to be able to make pen/watercolor creations like hers.
My partner in crime since my first days, long I have looked up to her. She has always inspired me to look for my best and always get up when I have fallen.
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Warblers for my sister and best friend no matter the miles between us.