when i think about long island, i miss the days that i could bike to the beach, climb the fence and watch the sun rise over the sound. these colors – the blue, green, aqua, yellow – dominated those mornings, both gentle and fierce, end of night, beginning of day.
i feel that if i were in outer space looking from far away at the earth…i would see the sun wrap its rays around the east side of the earth, a mix of blues and greens, melded into a blur with a rounded edge. it would be a kaleidoscope of color and feeling.
either way i hold this piece, vertically or horizontally, i see the sun. golden rising. off the east edge of the earth. or over the water. either way, a new day.
the image is strikingly beautiful. two men tenderly holding their baby. shared fatherhood. for me, personally, as i have written about before , a hopeful vision of The Boy someday…
but the words “shared fatherhood” makes me also think of people who have been in the lives of my children. in addition to their father, there have been others in their lives who have had impact. i distinctly remember The Boy recalling the day my dad – his Pa – made him respectfully remove his hat at the table; no bones about it…lessons. and i remember the generous message he wrote for my dad’s funeral service. i know there is an unbreakable connection The Girl has to her Pa, the man she bought a sweatshirt (that he adored) which read “smart-ass university”. their paternal grandpa was a sweet sweet man as well, and i know there is take-away from their relationship with him. but when you sort out further – the concentric circles in their lives outside of family – that’s when i must also express gratitude for other people who shared in “fathering” them. their high school band directors, the marketing teacher, tennis and other coaches, private music instructors, talented men who cared deeply about them. even more, they were there for them. in past years i knew that i could count on them for support, for demonstrating what was good, for the love they showered on them.
we walk through life, sometimes unaware of the impact we are having on others. perhaps we need a moment or two to stop and think about all of those people who have contributed to our growth, who have shared in our lives, who have “mothered” or “fathered” us regardless of whether there was a biological connection or not.
father’s day – another day to recognize that we are, indeed, all one family. better together.
shared fatherhood II, mixed media on panel 25.25″ x 40.25″
we have dandelions. ask our neighbors. luckily our neighbors on the west (and our sweet friends) share our love and adoration of dandelions. well, maybe not love and adoration, but they don’t have a terrible aversion to them either. neither of our households competes in what charlie calls “the lawn olympics.” we have old houses and, thus, old lawns. and yes…i have walked around our neighborhood and there are plenty of old houses with utterly rich, dense, verdant carpets. but, alas, that is not us.
we have much to learn about grass. everyone in our circle asks dan, because dan is a lawn god. his grass is gorgeous and cross-cut and weedless. we do have a lot to learn from him. we are glad (but only for the grass reason) that he and gay don’t live next door. but if they did – (and that would be lovely, but only on the east side so as not to displace our west side neighbors) – i am betting that our dandy dandelions would be gone and we would have dandy grass instead.
we have turned into my parents. on sundays, when we have no other plans, we take sunday drives. yes…we are those people…the ones who seemingly have no place to be and are wandering around the backroads in the countryside, breathing in deep breaths of freshly mowed grass and blowing kisses at horses out grazing.
WHITE SUN 18×48 mixed media
wisconsin countryside looks like this morsel AND it looks like the full painting of WHITE SUN. perfect fields manicured with crops and fences and dirt readied for fresh planting. gorgeous. there is a specific spot out-in-the-county…we drive past…and i wonder if this is the beautiful spot that david had in his mind when he was painting.
we look at the news app often these days. it’s kind of like we don’t want to miss anything. so much seems to teeter on the edge it makes us feel we need to stay apprised. the news is scattered all over: places in the world suffering, places in the world ravaged by war, places in the world devastated by natural causes, places in the world with people who do not have good intentions and countries divided by selfish, self-righteous motives.
david’s painting EARTH INTERRUPTED VI: NEWS.WORTHY. makes me feel like i am looking at the earth with the earth (the blue of sea, the green of land) in the background, a kind of three-dimensional surreal view of our mother planet.
i chose this morsel SCATTERED NEWS because the play between the blackness and the newsprint intrigued me. it reminded me that, despite the news app and the paper and the reports on tv, we are only hearing bits of news. there is so much more happening each and every day that doesn’t make it to us, that we don’t know. there is so much more impacting people all over our world. the thing is, we are all in this world together. like the pastor (bishop michael curry) who preached for the royal wedding said just a few days ago, imagine how the world would be if love were the way: “when love is the way, the earth will be a sanctuary.” we may be scattered, but people are people. we all breathe in and out the same way. and we could all stand to remember that.
ah. “a sanctuary.” so if we step outside the world and look back, perhaps the scattered bits of news would all be stories of “a new world”.
i have a lot of conversations with God. they aren’t really formal; instead we just chat. well, i chat. or implore. or express gratitude. or cry. or ask questions. sometimes my head is bowed and my hands are folded, but other times i am driving or playing the piano or walking or eyes-wide-open. for me, prayer is not just that thing i do at church or before a meal or at night before i go to sleep. it’s just an anytime, everyday way of being, with this magnificent higher power watching over the universe.
anne lamott’s book Help, Thanks, Wow is a gorgeous primer for anyone wondering how to pray, a beautiful reinforcement of the internal power of prayer, an outline of simple spiritual praying. i have read it many times, nodding my head and struggling to always remember, remember, remember the important stuff.
this painting PRAYER reminds me of the quiet, the steady rock, the essentiality of praying.
several people lately have asked us what we meant by “products”…the “products” we were designing to go along with our blog post images. many of you may have noticed these product bars on our blogs each day. we understand that not everyone has seen these or understood our intent. we have been seeking the easiest way to present these products as options and so we listen to each suggestion we get.
there is sure a lot of fodder in our studios: paintings, music, cartoons, graphic images, photographs, writings…a melange of our work. it’s fun (and necessary) for us to turn all of this into a line of things that are purchase-able: wall art, tote bags, mugs, leggings, throw pillows, home accessories. i love the design work and have learned so much in the process!
we thank each of you who have taken a look at the sites where these are available (we have five storefronts on society6.com.) we have been told and have seen firsthand that our designed products that society6.com ship are of good quality and they stand behind them if you are not pleased. if you have any questions, please let us know. we appreciate you so much.
this week’s product line links are right below. the link brings you to one of the products in that line on society6.com. if you scroll down the page a little, it will say “also available as” so you can see the image in its varying iterations.
the quiet and not-so-quiet moments of comforting. your child. your friend. your partner. when they see the storm coming and you are there. when the storm is raging around them and you are there. when the eye of the storm gives false pause and you are there. when the tides pull back and regain momentum and you are there. when the storm has finally passed, the debris is fierce and you are there. when the rebuilding starts and you are there. the storm – physical or emotional – does not have to be endured alone.
my sweet momma used to love to walk in the rain. matter of fact, she adored it. my poppo? not so much. but my momma would revel in it; she said it made her hair curly, which, for her, was a good thing.
we have gotten caught in the rain numerous times while out hiking. soft, gentle rain or even downpours. on the trail it just adds to the fun. the rain also makes MY hair curly, much to my chagrin. but d loves it that way….he must also love rag mops. (now, as an aside, i googled “rag mop” to make sure you would understand which kind of mop i was talking about and found this great old song. listen if you have time.)
there must be a time you were standing in the rain and everything slowed down, even the raindrops. it all became slow motion and life was about that very second, breathing in sweet-rain-dewy-air.
this morsel of a painting SLOW MOTION RAIN, soft and somewhat abstract, reminds me of those moments. slow motion rain is a little piece of EARTH INTERRUPTED IV.
david’s painting EARTH INTERRUPTED VI: NEWS.WORTHY.
reverse threading 