Treehouse On Masa Paper

As a kid, most of my non-school and non-snow days were spent in trees.  TreeZone seemed a natural place for my sister and I to hang out, and as time went on, I think it was clear to our dad it might be safer if there was an actual supporting floor under us when we were up there. That didn't stop me from tightrope walking on long, swaying branches that bridged My Tree and the garage roof, but at least I had a place to stash my snacks and sleep above the coyotes on summer nights, once he built a treehouse for me. Popular Mechanics magazine had just the blueprints for that little Ponderosa kid fortress, and Papa put his best carpenter's hat on and went to work.  

I should tell you that the above illustration is not my childhood treehouse.  But it is someone's childhood treehouse in Scotland.  Jim and I have a few books on tree houses of the world, and leafing through them a few days ago, I had some nice visions in my head of uses to put my newly minted, crinkled and stained, Masa Printmaking Paper cards to. I don't think the blueprints for this particular treehouse were published in Popular Mechanics.  

In my next lifetime, I will be sure to inherit the estate this tree palace occupies.

Giselle Finds The Perfect Leaf

So the pigment spill I thought had been the basis for a wild floral display, the plastic-wrap print in the center lending itself to a cut crystal vase, actually turned out to be a woman gazing at a windblown storm of Autumn leaves swirling around her.  It's a thrill to collaborate with what the patterns tell me after some deep meditation on them.  

What Is This?

A very disappointing Pigment Spill experiment I tried a couple nights ago almost became "collage fodder" (only fit to be torn or cut up and pasted into other projects), but last night I thought better of it.  With nothing to lose, I stretched it on my board again, spilled pigments here and there, letting them blend.  What had been a bleh sheet of vague beige, tan and mauve, was now a riot of color explosions.  Jim and I both keep seeing things in it, but who knows what I will end up teasing out of the patterns.  

The Deer Dynasty of Lopez Island

The San Juan Islands of Washington state are each ecosystems unto themselves in some ways, and when Jim and I spent more than a week on the Islands recently, we were reminded of the unique personality of each, as well as the relatively unique land masses and shapes.  The demographics are apparently different, also.  Certain sorts of folk prefer one over the other.  Lopez was new to us this trip, and it seemed more laid back, so to speak, in comparison to the other islands.  Less to offer for those who love to have excitement on their getaway, but more friendliness. The drivers all wave at each other as they pass.  Everyone we talked to seemed to already be our best friends.  Most take the time to chat.  The landscape was breath-taking, and many come there to bicycle around the island or kayak.  It seemed a great place to spend some quiet time writing one's next Great American Novel. The wide variety of family farms supplies the two local grocery markets with organic produce, as well as meats raised sustainably and without the usual crap that are fed to most stock.

The house we rented on Lopez overlooked the village and the salt water beyond.  The property was also occupied by a multi-generational family of deer who each do their part to work the family business of harvesting apples from the trees.  There is fierce competition, apparently, from the yellow jackets.  They would often send the young fauns off with much ear and tail-flicking, and head shaking.  The rabbit population didn't seem to do much but mow the lawn.  They were the greens keepers.  

The Bird Piper of Lewis

My previous husband, deceased close to thirteen years ago, was a McLeod whose ancestry was from  the Isle of Lewis. This last week I've been playing with paint blobs on watercolor paper stained with Noodler's ink (Australian Rose), still damp.  It took me two days to finally "see" the piper, then the fun began! Jim saw the soaring bird near his knees, so I had to make it so.  I saw a different face than he did, though.  

Portrait Of An Actress

It's been thirty+ years since I've been a professional portrait painter, and haven't looked back.  That is, until a friend recently asked me to do her portrait for a one-woman performance series next year, an image that may be printed on posters advertising her show.  This is a mixture of her face and that of her character, the great Lillian Carter.  At any rate, it was a pleasure to create it, an interesting challenge, and I'm enjoying the result. 

I chose Stonehenge Kraft paper, watercolor base, and conte crayon sticks for the project.

The Castle Garden, A Year Later

It was almost like skipping off to visit a familiar old friend again, that's how energized I was by the thought of snuggling back into one of my favorite gardens. I accompanied Jim again to Port Townsend for his twice-monthly allergy shots last week, and left him at the clinic for Manresa Castle garden across the street. It felt much like the garden gave a sigh as I wandered in and found a stone-topped table under the trees.  It was the opposite side of the garden from last year's sketch I'd done in August, viewing the fountain from the other end.  

It was a sloppy beginning, hard to capture the curves of the pathway with a pen. Tough to gauge how prominently the tree trunks would figure into my composition.  Maybe I could do some pruning?  On paper, of course. What will I leave out, and what will I showcase?  And how do I get the wet colors to run smoothly, when the dry breeze was determined to dry them instantly.

Just as I began inking in the fountain in the center, a large raven landed in it, with much fanfare.  It glanced around from side to side before stepping delicately into the water and indulging in an incredibly messy bath.  I've never seen a raven bathe before.  Much less water conservation than a finch!  It was sopping wet in no time (as were the nearby plants), and hopped out, flapping off into a tree. The whole affair was wonderfully entertaining, and no one witnessed it but me.