Everybody loves sock monkeys. And sock monkeys love Everybody. They make people smile with their smiles…and their butts. Some are mischievous and some are just sweet. Some are vintage and some are newer. But really, who hasn’t had a sock monkey at some point, or still do, sitting prominently on your bed, or waiting patiently in your attic. Or, perhaps, off livin’ his own life, over here smoochin’ with my sock monkey…
I’m working on a series of sock monkey paintings now. Got any ideas of your own?
Ray was born on August 1st, 1968. Johnny was “born” a little while before that. He waited patiently until he was found by Grandma Knirs and given lovingly to this tiny baby named Ray. At first he had no idea what to expect. Although he dreamed about finding a loving home, he had no idea it would last a lifetime.
Most of Johnny’s fur has been loved off. He’s had emergency surgeries over the years to add more stuffing and repair seams. That could be cuz he was bursting at the seams with love for this little boy that took him everywhere over the years.
Now Ray is 50 years old; so is Johnny. And he still holds a special place in Ray’s heart – a tangible manifestation of the love from Grandma Knirs. He’s kept in a safe place, cherished. Johnny has been spending some time at my house lately in another safe place, up high away from the puppy who absolutely loves tearing up stuffed animals.
He sits patiently posing while I paint his portrait – recreating every visible stitch, every loved off patch of fur, the green of his eyes.
Yes, We did have fun at the Stoneville Fall Festival! 🙂
Had a great time with my home town friends in Stoneville, NC Saturday the 29th of September. We enjoyed great weather and good conversation with everyone there. It’s always good to reconnect with people that as much as you would like to visit, it’s always hard to find the time between working on pots and trying to sell them. I would like to Thank everyone who came by the booth, both buyers and lookers.
Time. Light. Shadow. Things left behind. To tell a story…
This is Warranty. It’s oil on canvas and half price for the month of August at $300. Purchase this still life/story or commission me to create your own, with your items infused with your history.
And of course, your’s can look happier than this one.
Maybe I just can’t paint anymore. What is this. Maybe I can’t let it all out anymore. Onto the canvas. Maybe nothing’s there. Is something there? Do I see something starting to form? Do you see something? Do I do this every time I start a canvas? I don’t even know anymore. Why bother. Should I?
Once, for a short time, we were separated. He was lured away by a siren with a pack of lies and a pied piper with an ample supply of pot.
Soon after, he saw through the haze and found his way back to me.
And once again his books, his records, his clothes, and all his favorite things came back into my life along with him. I loved being surrounded by his things. It made me feel close to him. I still do.
The Weaver Academy of Art students are coming!
I was honored to be chosen as Juror for the 2018 Students Select exhibit for Weaver Academy for Performing and Visual Art in Greensboro, NC. When I walked in to the exhibit and saw their work I was delighted and impressed! It was thoughtfully and imaginatively created, in a variety of mediums, sizes, themes…these students have been working hard!
With all this really well crafted work it was difficult to choose the recipients for the awards. I fell in love with so many of the works. Here are details from a few of my favorites…
I attended the opening reception/awards ceremony and met and had lots of conversations with these bright, enthusiastic student-artists. I had a blast! The parents were cool, too.
I now have renewed faith in the art world!
I’m in the forest, approaching a small log cabin overlooking a still cool lake, a snowy mountain in the distance. I step back, startled by a sweet little fawn creeping through pine needles. As I step back I trip over a branch, I mean the rug; I’m back in my studio…
I’m painting a picture of a picture, a vintage picture painted on a slab of wood with visible tree trunk edges which sits on a fancy vintage hand crafted shelf. The light makes fun shadows on the wall.
When I look back at the photo of this in-process painting I’m fooled into thinking this is a photo of the actual object. The small ceramic deer looks three dimensional with the shadow projected on the painting behind it. Wow… trompe l’oeil! This is fun!
Nope. Not pregnant. Ha ha! This baby is on the way to her next display location, to hang around and wait for the right person to purchase her as a holiday gift for that special someone. Because, after all, doesn’t everyone need a painting of a baby doll hanging from a nail.
Actually, I love this one. I wouldn’t mind at all if she never gets sold. I have the perfect spot for her in my house.
- You wrote it.
- You didn’t care if you received 1 or 100 likes.
- You sat and bled just as Hem said to do and it makes perfect fucking sense to you.
- You read your work the next day and squirmed. You’re onto it. Keep going.
- You haven’t any choice but to write so you do. And you do. And you do.
- A family member read one of your pieces and said nothing. Instead they cried.
- You love yourself enough to write. So fucking write.