The Ibis

The dam
colored pencil
2/1/2015

The weather has not been cooperating lately. We are under the lash and it's troubling. I miss these expansive moments of the river's white noise and my contemplative focus. Also, various projects have stacked up; moments spent on one task is time stolen from another. There are moments where dealing with the necessities of life are the most clear and rewarding: shoveling snow, cooking and other domestic chores, doing laundry… Even writing is a form of procrastination.

Such is life and it will change. Projects will be completed. And through it all I still hear ducks overhead and see life at the bird feeder. The snow piles up in last year's nests and interesting animal tracks are seen in the snow. These creatures who share their lives without calculation, illuminate a path for me.

I worked in my studio this morning (like all my mornings) and considered my reason to draw outdoors: to attend and be gently surprised and reminded of the basics of Life beyond my small intelligence. And this picture emerged:

two ibises in Old Egypt (detail)

2/6/2015
mixed media

It's not such a good painting but the sentiment is true for me: the imbalance between what the Egyptian feels about the Ibis and what the Ibis feels about the Egyptian. It brings me some peace in this very troubled world.
Bonne journée mes amis.

Verdure

The Island
May 16, 2013
charcoal

There is an artificial island below the dam. I've watched it all winter get covered with water or snow and ice. Occasionally, taking shelter, mallards would curl up on the ice that formed around it. But now with summer so near, the island is a lush green oasis amid the rushing current. Grackles, starlings, robins and sparrows perch in the undergrowth and up in the branches.

The green color this time of year is stunning. "Verdure" and "verdant" are words that begin to capture this quality of bright rampant botany. All the leaves are new. Grasses grow 3-4 inches every few days and some trees are just getting their perfect, tender leaves. I suppose, when the temperature rises and the world gets used to summer, this green manic rush will slow down. Already, I can hear the caterpillars chewing and the lawnmowers growling. I sat under the trees this morning, drawing the dam and there was a steady sound of inchworm frass hitting my sketchbook paper. Eat and be eaten; the world is one big feast.

The Dam
May 18, 2013
colored pencil

Little things

A painted turtle

Herbarium I

Herbarium II

The Fish Ladder

a view of the dam with the fish ladder

I go away for a few days, and it rains like crazy. The river gets filled up and is its merry gushing self again. No ducks dabbling at the top of the dam now; the current is too strong. There are a few upriver where it's a bit safer. Only the sturdy geese seem to be able to relax at the top of the cascade.

This is a view above the dam drawn in the late afternoon. A Little Green Heron is perched on the wall looking for frogs to eat. It's a weird little bird. Comical: his crest folds up and down depending on I-don't-know-what!

The top drawing shows a fish ladder. It's a stair-step affair that allows fish that are so inclined to swim up the river to reach their favorite spawning places. I've never seen a fish leap up there like they do by the dozen in National Geographic.

I met one old-timer a few weeks ago who said that dare-devils would swim inside the rooster tail rapids and sit and enjoy being surrounded by the rushing water. He also informed me that there apparently used to be a bathing beach with lifeguards at this park… back when there were taverns in South Natick. Now we all drink nice wine on our decks and gossip about the neighbors with subdued voices. I'll take it!

To summer then! Salut! School begins later this week :-(

Art Criticism

Another view of the dam this morning. I sat right up close so the rushing water drowned out any other sounds. After a while, this flotilla of geese camped out on the top and had a busy little salon al fresco.

I drew this in green Prismacolor in my sketchbook. The paper is soft and shows the impressed lines from the previous pages:

So, I offer you this: a useless job of figuring out the connection between my doodles and an observation of the water and the geese. Art critics and historians do this all the time and assume they've had the final word. It's infuriating. If there is a connection, it should be obvious. If it's not obvious, then it's obvious that someone is riding on the back of the person who took the initial risk of actually making the art.
Ooooh! Ouch! Take that you art-challenged critics/historians/reviewers! Put down your pens and pick up a paintbrush!

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