Costa Rica Pics 1

Costa Rica

I leave for a ten-day trip to Costa Rica this Sunday. I will explore the rain forests, lay on the beach, dip my feet in hot springs, visit museums, and hopefully catch a glimpse of a volcano. And that's in addition to all the other lovely things scheduled for our tour. You can see our itinerary in the above picture; it's a lot to pack into ten days, but it should be worth it, even if I do have to get up before the crack of dawn on a few mornings. I hope to come away with lots of good pictures, some color in my skin (although I have bought SPF 85 sunscreen for my pale, delicate skin so that is unlikely), and the desire to continue traveling the world and broadening my horizons. I am going to miss Mister Bingley very, very much, but I know that he will be in good hands, with friends stopping by every day to play with him and take care of all his needs. I think one of the hardest things about leaving is the fact that I won't have access to the Internet, which will either kill me or make me a better person. (Yeah, right.)

I will hopefully post some pictures upon my return, and who knows? Maybe I'll even get the old tubes of paint out and be productive.

Still Here, Just Lazy

Yes, I'm still alive. Just haven't felt much like drawing or painting, I suppose. I've been spending a lot of time with Mister Bingley and have gotten back into reading. I also got a swinging new laptop and have been spending my evenings cuddled up on the couch with it, playing various computer games. And of course I went on vacation last week and am going to Costa Rica for ten days in just over three weeks. All of which is to say I haven't had much time for anything else. I feel only slightly bad about it. I've been through the emotional wringer these past few months, and it's good for me to change up my routine and try to regroup and refocus. I'm sure I'll be creative again and the urge to draw will hit me like a bolt of lightning.

A Poem

Lament (Whom will you cry to, heart?)

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Whom will you cry to, heart? More and more lonely,
your path struggles on through incomprehensible
mankind. All the more futile perhaps
for keeping to its direction,
keeping on toward the future,
toward what has been lost.

Once. You lamented? What was it? A fallen berry
of jubilation, unripe.
But now the whole tree of my jubilation
is breaking, in the storm it is breaking, my slow
tree of joy.
Loveliest in my invisible
landscape, you that made me more known
to the invisible angels.

Mr. Bingley

I would be remiss if I did not post about my newest roommate: Mr. Bingley, a shelter cat I am picking up this afternoon from the Humane Society. He is an absolute doll and is apparently at least part Ragdoll cat, as his previous owners bought him from a breeder. I can honestly say that this is the first time in a month that I have felt happy and felt as though I had something to look forward to. I am hoping very much that he can fill the new void in my life with love and companionship.

Black-Throated Trogon

For the first time in about a month or so, I felt up to doing something creative. As I'm sure you can tell from previous entries, I love painting birds. A lot of people do, so I have good company. In any case, I haven't painted with my watercolors in years, so I thought I would pull them out and paint a bird using some soft watercolors. I didn't quite like how soft it was when I finished, so I used some inky black watercolor from a tube and outlined the entire image. It just "felt" finished at that point. I rather like it. I really wanted to focus on line and keep it as simple as possible. I messed up a bit, though. I got a smudge on the right hand side, and in an effort to remove it, I rubbed the wet paper too hard and ripped part of it. Bah. A learner's mistake, and one that I hopefully will not make again!

Materials: Windsor and Newton Watercolors, Canson 9 x 12 watercolor paper.

Happy Snow

It's been a hard past month, and the less said about it the better. Until I can get some more work done, please enjoy some of the more interesting snow pictures I took yesterday. It very, very rarely snows in Alabama so it was quite the treat.

She Sits and Thinks

I actually painted this last weekend, but never really got around to taking pictures of it until today. I'm quite happy with the play on shadows. Often, I am very scared to be dramatic with my shadows, especially on faces, but here I just let go of my hesitation and went for it. I'm quite happy with the result and I hope to do more portraits in the near future.

I just listed this item on Etsy, so you can buy it (and view more pictures) here.

Materials: Acrylic paint, gesso, 9 x 9 x .5 inch wood.

Back in the Saddle

I'm trying to get back into the mood for drawing, but it's been hard lately with the stuff going on in my family combined with working an 8-hour per day job and trying to spend time with my boyfriend and friends. Still, I'm happy that I did something productive tonight, and I like the result very much. (That might change tomorrow when I look at it with fresh eyes.)

Materials: 9 x 12 inch pastel paper, Prismacolor colored pencils.

A Poem for My Grandfather

I don't think that art is relegated to only the visual (does anyone?), which is why I decided to share this poem with you on my art blog. I used to be a voracious writer, but I haven't kept up with it very much in the past few years, and only occasionally do I sit down to write something.

My grandfather has had Alzheimer's for a while now, but it has gotten to the point where he must be sent to a nursing home. I don't think I need to tell you how devastating that has been for the entire family. Alzheimer's is the cruelest of diseases, stripping the mind of memory and logic. It has been a drawn-out and sad experience to watch my grandfather slowly disappear, and I felt like penning something about it.

Sometimes
His mind shutters
And blinks
Before settling on a soft, ribbony cusion of Nothing.

To watch him crumble,
Stripped away of memory and dignity,
An endless loop of questions ever-present on his lips,
The shadow of who he used to be
Captured forever inside a faded photograph,
Is almost unbearable.

And he will be locked away,
Confused and isolated,
Unable to fumble with buttons or smile at his wife.
I wonder
If he will know his pain
--if only for a second--
As a helping hand raises a spoon to his mouth.

Liquid eyes
A mind of Blank
Seasons past lost forever
Leaving only a searing string of ache.