In the Leafy Treetops

"In the leafy treetops the birds sing good morning..." I love that it is finally springtime and the birds are beginning to return and there new leaves in the treetops just waiting for them. There is a bright green that is only found in the spring. I love the vibrancy of it. Everything about spring makes me feel alive. No wonder it's my favorite season. 

Family Trees

This particular stand of trees reminds me some cottonwood trees that grew near our cattle ranch. When I was growing up we would ride out there to check on, move and round-up our cattle to drive them home for the winter. It reminded me of a quote I read, "Family, like branches on a tree, we all grow in different directions, yet our roots remain as one." I love knowing that my family is mine forever, no matter how many miles separate us today.

Little Purple Pansies Touched with Yellow Gold


Little purple pansies, touched with yellow gold,
Growing in one corner of the garden old;
We are very tiny but must try, try, try
Just one spot to gladden, you and I.

I used to sing this song when I was a child. I had no idea what a purple pansy was, but I wanted to grow them in my garden. Now I can't see one without singing that song. It's amazing how many memories can emerge when I'm painting.
 

 

 

 

Pinky Tuscadero

Does anyone remember Pinky Tuscadero? When I was painting all this pink, her name kept coming to mind. I couldn't remember what she looked like, only that when I was young I wanted to be her (oh dear, I'm advertising my age!). I had to google her just to check in with my childhood. Not at all what I remembered, but fun to visit the past just the same. What do you think of when your think pink?

On the Corner of Sacoila and Rose

I made it to the corner. The challenge is as much trying to find different kinds of flowers to paint as it is physically painting them. I'm actually looking at embroidery images rather than photos of flowers because I want them to look more like needlework that real flowers. I still want reality though, as I have seen some beautiful needlework that looks photographic. It's fun watching it come together.

Painting Class

I just wanted to take a minute to give a shout out to my painting students. I have been teaching at the Hoffman Center for the Arts for the past five months and it has been wonderful. I have one student who has taken the class every month. Others have taken only one session and some have taken a few. Like life, people come and go. But every one of them has been a joy to teach. It's so fun to watch them progress from the insecure, to the mildly frustrated, to the Ah-Ha moment and finally sit back and realize they did it. That's the joy of being a teacher.

What A Story!

I just have to share the rest of the story of "Standing Watch". I attended the Opening Reception at the North Country Recreation Center in Nehalem, Oregon. I was so very impressed with the turnout and the support of this community. Three leaders from the Nehalem-Catsop tribe were present and shared their gratitude and what they are doing to work toward restoring their national tribal status with all of its rights and privileges. Two of the leaders kept asking me about the painting. I told them how I had researched their people and tried to place myself in the place and time of the early people. I talked about what it would mean to stand watch and wait for my sons and/or my husband to come home. And how I felt that there would be a Chief and perhaps even a Great Spirit standing watch, waiting for the People to come home. One of the leaders, with tears in her eyes, told me she'd had a dream (I don't feel that the details are mine to share here) and when she woke she knew the dream was about her people coming home. They were so touched by my painting that the tribe has decided to purchase it. I am so honored and excited. What a great opportunity this turned out to be. Not only was I inspired to create something, but also to touch the lives of others, and share a moment in eternity with some incredibly special people. Definitely a memory I will treasure. 

A Fresh Start

I haven't been able to post, so it's nice to have a fresh start with sharing what I'm doing here at Pease House Art. This was my fresh start on a new canvas. I'm really excited about this piece. It comes from an image that has been forming in my mind. It's highly symbolic and hopefully will speak for itself when it's done. All is hope at this time. The realizing of it will come over the next few weeks.

Spilt Milk

When I was teaching elementary school I loved reading the book, "It Looked Like Spilt Milk" to my students, and then doing creative learning activities with them. This time, however, it didn't just look like spilt milk... it really was spilt milk... all over my computer.... You know the saying, "Don't cry over spilt milk"? Well, I think it's okay to cry over it when it means your computer has to go to the computer doctor. I didn't actually weep. But I did wail and gnash my teeth. Alas, we have paid the price, all has been restored, and I can start posting again. 

Standing Watch

I created this painting for a show that will run through March at the Nehalem Bay Recreational Center. The show acknowledges and honors the Clatsop and Tillamook People of the Oregon Coast. They are working to regain recognition as an independent tribe and a portion of the proceeds of this show will go to support their cause. As I researched the history of the people and the direction of the show the image began to formulate in my mind of someone standing watch, waiting for the hunters or warriors to return. The watcher may be the tribal chief. It could be a mother anxiously waiting the return of her husband or her sons. It may even be the Great Spirit watching over all of the people. I think to some degree we are all standing watch. And I find comfort in knowing that there are those who stand watch for me. 

Magic

There is a concept in art called the Gestalt Theory, which basically says, "we see the whole before we see the individual parts that make up that whole".  It is a concept that continues to fascinate me. Looking close up at the brush strokes on the cape it makes no sense. It's simply a bunch of lines. But scanning back, those lines come together to not only create the shape of the cape, but also the movement as it folds in and out, and the texture of the straw. How magical is that?

Straw Hat

This style of straw hat was traditional for the Tillamook People. It is certainly different than the straw hat my own dad wore when I was growing up. But somehow I imagine that the children of this culture saw it in much the same light I saw my dad's hat. It wasn't a toy, although sometimes he would let me wear it. I knew it protected him from the sun, but was also a symbol to him of what he stood for as a farmer, rancher, and cowboy. It's hard for me to see a cowboy hat without thinking of my dad. I think that the children of the Tillamook people probably also wanted to wear their elders' hats, imagining themselves wearing them one day when they grew older.