Meadow Pond

The last few strokes of paint feel like a symphony's final notes.  Cymbals crash and the notes rise to a crescendo until they fade away and you are left with their sweet tone vibrating in your mind's deepest recesses. 

This painting started out very differently.  Aiming for a spare and serene vista, it evolved over time into a remembered pond from my childhood - at least a fictionalized version of it since it is no longer there except in my mind's eye.

I spend summer hours floating on a makeshift raft someone had made and tied to a branch pounded into the soft earth on the edge of a nearby pond.  This usually involved getting my toes squishy with mud and pulling off the occasional leach, but I was young and I really wanted to float on that raft.  It was in a field not far from our house.  Not big but ample in size for a short float with a good book.

In this version, I can hear the laughter of children splashing and frogs heading for cover in the reeds to observe the activity from a distance.  A path worn by animals or humans - perhaps both - winds its way along the shore, grass closely cropped by the many footfalls.  The clear vibrant day, like so many I have known, welcomes all comers to linger at its shores.

Take Flight

Music and nature blend into one.  The music is Yann Tiersen's "L'autre Valse d'Amélie" from the "Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain" soundtrack.


powerlinerflyers from wesley johnson on Vimeo.

Bliss

Finally, a birthday present (offered in April, mind you) is reality. I must give all the credit to my procrastination but I am happy to have a wonderful new easel for the studio.  It is massive but just right for my needs.  I love doing large paintings and this one will support them perfectly.  With two masts, I can even paint two canvases at once.  I saw tall, narrow canvases in the art store and side by side, they would create a interesting piece of art.

I read all the reviews before deciding on this one and the only fault anyone could cite were the assembly directions but they said the same thing about other easels.  Armed with that knowledge, I went slow and managed to get it together - all 66 pounds of luscious wood.  They were right, though, the directions were the pits. Thank goodness for online photos!

I have used the same easel for most of my life.  It only presented a problem when I wanted to do a large painting.  I'd have to hold it steady with one hand, wield the brush with the other and play a demented game of Twister to load the brush with paint.  Since Chris works with a smaller format, I have now passed it along to her.  The one my parents bought me when I was in my teens is now my daughter's. It is nice to know that it will witness her artistic growth as it did mine.

Fourth of July Boat Parade

As usual, the 4th of July weekend was a blast starting with the boat parade on Saturday.  This was the first year we weren't in it since we were gone much of June and when the boat finally did get in on July 1st, it was acting really testy and ended up needing a new fuel pump.

Anderson's boat was a paddle-wheeler this year with dual smokestacks and rotating paddle wheels.  The usual cast of characters dressed the part making The Gambler a hit.

It is wild to see a car on the lake.  They took out all the heavy parts - engine, axles, whatever - and mounted the body on pontoons.  Motoring around the lake, it is disconcerting to spy it coming towards you.  It is nice of him to use his turn signals, though, when he changes course.

We partied at Oram's, walking over to Paul and De's to hear the band.  Dave made masses of chicken and the tropical shrimp I brought was devoured in minutes.  Will have to make that one again.

Threads of Interest

Our homes tell a story.  So do our workplaces.  My bulletin board at work is ever changing as my interests evolve.

Some offices I enter sport childish colorings pinned in prominent places.  They make me smile and I know this represents an important part of this person's life.  Occasionally, an office will be more sterile with reports pinned at eye level and schedules neatly penned on wall calendars.  Even after years in the same space, there is nothing there which gives you insight into the person who occupies that room.  Why is that?  Are they unhappy here?  Perhaps they don't feel comfortable.  Perhaps they are just private people.   

I spend eight hours a day in my office and almost two getting to and from it.  While it is separate from my personal life, I love what I do there and I couldn't imagine not making myself at home in the space.  I love cozy.  I love welcoming rooms.  I want my home away from home to reflect my interests so I am reminded of why I work.  My job is creative and my walls inspire me.  They form the threads of my interests, the basis for my existence.

The Art of Basically Doing Nothing

Each day can be an adventure but sometimes, doing nothing is very satisfying.  Relaxing with good friends is a good example.  Afternoons when nothing is discussed more serious than who is going to lean over to grasp the wine bottle for refills.

MidLife Jubilation - Fran Mangino

Pockets of time absent from tasks and activity are sometimes more rare than we would like.  When you live with someone else, that time seems cut in half.  Moments of solitude are stolen from the busyness - a few here, a few there, a blessed hour to flip through a magazine or finish a book. An afternoon with girlfriends in a fit of giggles over something inane someone said. These hours become more precious for their brevity.

Fran's painting always reminds me of those pleasures.  I met Fran Mangino many years ago at an art show when I lived in Ohio.  She was just starting to paint at the time.  Each year showed more progress and her watercolors blossomed not only with flowers but depth as well.  This is one of a series she did which celebrates the truisms of midlife and I have it in my office to remind me to relax and play whenever I can (that is her on the right). My nothing moments are like strands of pearls - long, sinuous and appreciated for the beauty of their being.

Common Footing

I remember well the days when Christina wanted nothing more than to be different from me - mostly in her teenage years as she was finding her own footing.  My creativity and craftiness were not exemplary achievements on her horizon.

That was okay with me - just because I found them endlessly fulfilling did not mean my children had to.  I knew they would find their own pursuits.  But at the same time that she was scoffing at my life, she was bemoaning the fact that her father, brother and I had all the talent in the family and she had none. This went on for some time.  Frequently.

Now, this was from a child who exhibited her own talents in many ways.  When she was in the sixth grade, she created a wonderful ceramic bowl which I held my breath about when she was deciding who to give it to. The inside is as interesting as the glaze on the outside - pressed clay forms the bowl shape and the glaze is darker in the minute cracks than on the surface.  Clay flower buds lay inside as if dropped in the bowl while they were gathered.  I love this bowl and that it was molded by Christina's hands.

I still have her little paper canoe, made for an elementary school Thanksgiving project many years ago which sports a campfire in its center.  We still share a chuckle about that.  If I remember right, she just wanted the occupants to be warm.

When she was in her late teens, I was working in the studio and she mentioned again about her lack of talent in relation to the rest of the family.  I decided enough was enough and gave her a drawing project to tackle along side me.  The more she drew, the better it became and her confidence soared.

I never heard disparaging remarks about her 'lack of talent' again.

Christina's first oil painting  5/11

Now it is a decade or so later and I have a huge warm afghan she made me to cuddle in and her drawing on my wall.  Since this spring, she is working side by side with me in my studio.  It has been wonderful to explore painting together.  We learn much from each other.  Sometimes I feel I learn more from her than she does from me.  I may teach her technique and new ways to observe what we normally take for granted, but she teaches me how to embrace and share a common bond that enhances our relationship in a new way.

Mostly, I just like to do things with her and that is all that matters.