I suppose I should explain– the owners of this painting are renovating their home and asked if I would house this work of mine plus a number of my others they had purchased over the years, and of course I was delighted. Delighted to remake the acquaintance of these works, to be able to spiff up the frames and clean and re-varnish and re-photograph them all. I no longer use the old Kodachrome slides, sigh. It’s all digital now and I have the database on an Excel sheet in my computer that names all the paintings and gives each its own number, dimensions, all the information that seems important to me. This one is 17.5″ x 38.5″, painted on a gessoed board. Click on it if you want to see it as it really is, all rich onionskin and glowing grass. I’m still really fond of this piece, and have never chosen to try to do another quite like it though this set of hills is a favorite motif of mine. I often speak of it as the HIlls, Hills and Hills… or the HIlls “cubed”. Below, for contrast, a springtime painting done a few years earlier of the same place. You will see differences in the configuration of the hills– I am often amused to realize how much my eye varies its weighting of elements even when I myself believe I am painting the same place! Stones move around, angles of repose shift a little. I am no camera; that much is clear.
Monthly Archives: October 2014
Every so often after I’ve spent hours out in the studio painting, there’s a message waiting on the machine when I walk into the study. Hit the button– I hear the tentative young male or female voice on the recording and then a rush of words.
“Professor? You won’t remember me. I took your class…” in years gone by, ten or more, and took the time now, to call. For some reason this is the day for this spate of words, with its embarrassed misspeaks, an offered gratitude.
“Your enthusiasm meant so much. I’ve always remembered how you took that plant and broke its pot on the desk, scattering dirt all over, to prove the point that there was more to a plant underground than on top.”
I’m smiling, listening.
“I have never forgotten how you declared you never expected us to believe everything you said, but that you did expect us to know what you had said. I became a scientist because of your class.”
Some days when I’m listening, he or she says the next wonderful thing.
“I became a teacher because of you.”
I saw a real live pangolin when I was seven years old in Nigeria. I didn’t understand how rare the chance was, but now, finding a guest blog on a blog I love, I had such pleasure revisiting the strange and wonderful reality of the pangolin. A a modest silent dragon humbly trundling through the African wild in the dark. Have a look at this marvelous animal. http://thesmallermajority.com/2014/10/14/mozambique-diary-rescuing-a-dragon/