recurrent dreams

Sometimes things come back.
Some ideas won't go away.
Arab Spring was followed by Occupy Autumn.
Now Idle No More has taken wintry Canada by storm
And a lot of other places too.

I wonder if this will be the one? There are and have been other major movements for justice and reform around the world. Somehow the idea of a fair society just won't go away. Perhaps none of them will succeed, it must be admitted we human beings have a terrible record when it comes to treating each other decently, but what's good about people gathering for a cause larger than their own self interest (or just because they happened to be passing by and joined in at a whim) is to see that those of us who thought they had little in common find a common cause. Even if the experience only lasts a little while, protest against greed and injustice goes well with singing, drumming, dancing, and laughing in the company of strangers. Moments of shared joy and mutual understanding have the potential to tear up our individual prejudices and change the way we experience reality ever after.



“The Destiny of Man is to unite, not to divide. If you keep on dividing you end up as a collection of monkeys throwing nuts at each other out of separate trees.”
― T. H. White
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ps: The picture is one of several dozen painted more than twenty years ago, all given away. This one came back by way of two dear friends - one of whom won't be back this way again. Life is precious.

winter

Something I found written by a friend reminded me of this old favorite poem. Since I already typed it out once this evening I thought I'd post it here just in case you might like it too. It seems appropriate.

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate
      When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
      The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
      Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
      Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be
      The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
      The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
      Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
      Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
      The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
      Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
      In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
      Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
      Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
      Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
      His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
      And I was unaware.

~ Thomas Hardy

the limping puppy

One fine May morning a hillside farmer had just finished putting up a sign that read 'Puppies For Sale', when who should he see pulling a wagon along the path but a small boy.  I'm sure you know signs like that do have a way of attracting children.

'How much are you going to sell the puppies for?', he asked.

The farmer replied, 'They're working dogs so I'll be asking $50.'

The little boy reached in his pocket and pulled out some change. "I have $2.37," he said. "Can I please look at them?"

The farmer smiled and said, 'Right this way', pointing to the old barn next to the house.

Sure enough there were puppies, very lively, curious puppies who came bounding toward the little boy from every direction. He hardly knew which one to pat next but after a few moments spent tickling bellies, being poked by little wet noses, and having his clothes nipped by excited puppy teeth, he noticed one pup who had lagged behind all the others. Immediately the little boy singled out the limping puppy and asked,

"What's wrong with that little dog?'

The farmer explained that the veterinarian had examined the puppy and had found it didn't have a hip socket. It would always limp. It would always be lame. This news didn't deter the little boy at all.

'That is the puppy I want to buy.'

The farmer said, 'No, you don't want to buy that little dog. If you really want him, I'll give him to you.'

The little boy got quite upset. He looked straight into the farmer's eyes and said, 'I don't want you to give him to me. That little dog is worth every bit as much as all the other dogs and I'll pay full price. In fact, I'll give you $2.37 now, and 50 cents a month until I have him paid for.'

The farmer protested, 'You really don't want to buy this little dog. He is never going to be able to run and jump and play with you like the other puppies.'

To this, the little boy reached down and rolled up his pant leg to reveal a badly twisted, crippled left leg supported by a big metal brace. He looked over at the farmer and softly replied:

'Well, I don't run so well myself, and this puppy will need someone who understands.'


*** *** *** ***

I've spent a fair amount of time this year doing background work for a story I wrote last spring. A narrative is one thing but the most difficult part has been trying to determine how many illustrations to do and just how to relate them to one another. When I happened across a version of this little story at a Buddhist website I thought it might be fun to illustrate since it was short and the message very sweet. There was no mention of who had written it though, so I went in search of the story by name and found two other adaptations - one on a Christian site and the other on a Hindu chat page. It appeared it has a somewhat universal appeal and by that point I figured it was available for me to play with in my own way. The only change I made to the original was setting it in the countryside rather than a pet store. Happily the last two paintings appeared much faster than the first and I learned a few things along the way.

I'm not sure if parents read to their children anymore or if it's all about rerunning favorite sections of Pixar movies and playing video games. Ah well, I draw and paint to keep myself entertained and, hopefully, to provide my friends with a little respite from the all you can handle and more you can't news programming.

I hope you enjoyed the story. If you wrote it please let me know.

♡

trials in illustration

Here I am again without a complete version of the story I mentioned several weeks ago. You've already heard I didn't like the first picture mostly because I was having a lot of trouble balancing the shades of green. Another problem that didn't really occur to me until I was too far into the picture to change it turned out to be the little shed next to the house. I already knew the setting for the next illustration would require a larger building to be in view, or at least suggested in the background, and the original picture wouldn't allow more structures. What I'd envisioned as a grove of trees behind the path turned into an unanticipated barrier that spoiled the effect even more.

All this to say that in the time between this post about the story and the last nearly a month ago, is that I've drawn too many variants of the scene and have painted three. First I got rid of the big house in order to have a thatched cottage that would look more friendly - plus, I added a couple of sheep just to keep things a bit more lively (thanks, Linda). You can see from this drawing that the watercolor paper had already been seriously overworked so the painting that came from it was unsalvageable for that reason alone but, once again there was no barn and, worse still, the farmer looked sinister. Since that one got tossed before I finished coloring, it doesn't count as a painting I finished. Nevertheless I liked the idea of a town being hinted at in the background.

Then I returned to the large house plan and modified it with a sizeable barn visible behind the farmer, along with a tree that would help to harmonize the greens of the surroundings. The sheep would stay. I actually liked this version enough that I painted it more than once. I won't show you the first because.. er, have you ever looked at truly bilious greens? It practically dove into the garbage without my help.

Anyway, the third try looks okay (it will just have to do). The second painting was finished without problems and now I'm working on the last one. In a couple of days I'll post the whole story but in the meantime here's a preview:

One fine May morning a local hillside farmer had just finished putting up a sign that read 'Puppies For Sale', when who should he see pulling a wagon along the path but a small boy.  I'm sure you know signs like that do have a way of attracting children.

'How much are you going to sell the puppies for?', he asked.

The farmer replied, 'They're working dogs so I'll be asking $50.'

The little boy reached in his pocket and pulled out some change. "I have $2.37," he said. "Can I please look at them?"

The farmer smiled and said, 'Right this way', pointing to the old barn next to the house.

***

more soon
(and to think I'd planned four pictures..)
♡