Drawing Number Three

I've added a wee bit to this. The changes are subtle - will work some more on this at lunch today.

Drawing Number Two

I'm going to try an experiment.

A few blog posts ago, I introduced the first drawing of a new series of Colorado wildflowers. It was this one:

Wildflowers, 2008
Mixed media on Arches

I thought I would show you the process with the second one in the series. I started the drawing above on an 8 1/2 x 11 inch portion of an old monoprint that I had made as a grad student back in 2001. One rule of the grad studio is to save all your work, especially the unsuccessful stuff, which is what that print was. I think it was made from ink still on the plate after one run through the press - an afterimage. Second rule of the studio is to use up all leftover ink - it's costly. The afterimage was not saturated enough to work by itself, but I saved it for a rainy day.

That would be today. It's sunny and warm outside, but no matter.

The second drawing will begin on another portion of that same monoprint, namely this:



As you can see, the print already has a fairly floral nature. What I will do next is to "find" the flowers in the print. I may give it a landscape orientation in order to do that. Something like this:



Click on either of the images to bring up a larger view. Do you see any flowers in the print? Where? Let me know, and I'll see if I agree with you. In any case, the next time you see this, it will have some new marks on it. Maybe some of them will be yours!

Ta 'till then!

Drawing Number One

Dried Thistle Pod, January 18, 2009

I promised a drawing a day, and this is the first. These pods seem to have no actual surface, just thorns that emanate from the stem and spread outward in every direction. The long, straight thorns have smaller thorns along their surface. The long, curved thorns also have smaller thorns. The stem is covered with minuscule thorns. The straight thorns have opened, and at their base, wherever that is, they contain small seeds which fall out when you shake the pod. Which is impossible without wearing protective gloves. There's not much that could get past a field of these. Maybe I'll go shake some seed in my front yard...

Happy New Year!

This photo bears no particular relation to this post. It's just indicative of the wild skies out here. Every day brings something new. And since we are in the new year, we can look forward to a whole new visual feast. There's that word "new" again. Which must mean that I am up to something new. . . and I am!

I started a new group on Facebook called "Janet Oliver Studio." Trying to think of ways to get people to see my work, naturally. I also started a new series of drawings (actually I announced that here a couple of months ago, but some ideas need time to take hold) of Colorado flora. I collect things on my walks, bring them back to my studio, and make drawings. I will be posting them here and on my Facebook page, so stay tuned for something new!

And while I'm at it, what's new with you?

Merry Christmas!

The Magpie, Claude Monet

At 4:01 on Monday, December 22, a black-billed magpie flew by my office window.

Magpies are common out here, but nowhere to be seen back east. As a child growing up mostly in the south, I had always wanted to see one, possibly because I watched the “Heckle and Jeckle” cartoons, but more probably because it was about the only bird I had not been able to match with its picture in a book of birds that belonged to my grandfather. The first time I ever saw a magpie was in France, two years ago this winter. I was fascinated then, and I am fascinated now.

Magpies, Versailles, 2006
Photo by author

Magpies belong to the crow family, and are said to be the only ones that recognize themselves in a mirror. The bird was referred to as “pie” (short for “piebald” most likely, because it is black and white) until the 16th century, when the feminine “mag” was added to the beginning (probably because it talks so much).

The magpie has many legends and symbols attached to it. The fact that it likes shiny objects gives it the reputation of being of thief, and it does have the habit of insinuating itself into other birds’ nests – and eating the eggs. An old English folk tale states that when Jesus was crucified on the cross, all of the world's birds wept and sang to comfort him in his agony. The only exception was the magpie, and for this, it is forever cursed, and in Scottish folklore, magpies were long reviled for allegedly carrying a drop of Satan's blood under their tongues. In the Middle Ages and during the witch-hunts in Europe, the bird was considered to be connected with witchcraft - just like crows, ravens, and black cats.

But I prefer to entertain the magpie’s more positive symbolism. The Chinese regard the magpie as sacred, and its singing foretells happiness and good luck. And Claude Monet obviously liked them.

So, to all my friends and family who reside on the east coast, down south, the mid-west, the west coast, or the continent, (and everyone else): may the magpie that you see in the painting above be your omen for a happy holiday season, and a very prosperous new year.

On My Way, or Thinking Outside the Box

A formation of Canada geese flies by my office window. On Wednesday, December 17 at 3:23 p.m. I decide to step outside. I put aside my work, put on my coat, pull on my gloves, and walk past the cubicles and rows of file cabinets that flank the path to the front door. I open it.

It is cold, but it is a good cold. It is a fine day for a walk.

I walk across the lot, turn the corner, and head up the street. At the end of the street, the path diverges. I can go left, or I can go right. To my left is the east, where the prairie rolls out. Over the prairie the sky is still blue, the clouds are high, and the way is clear. To my right is the west. The mountains block my view. The clouds are dark and hang low. This way could be tricky; filled with many challenges. I take the right way.

The path is icy in spots, made so by the recent snowfall that melted, then refroze overnight. But it does not slow my stride. Nor does it seem to hinder the others on this path, most of them runners. They race by me, focused on nothing but the rush.

But I keep a steady pace. I notice the things that they cannot. I watch the geese slide to a landing on the frozen pond. I see the twisted formation on the side of the giant cottonwood tree that looks like a ghoulish face. I hear the magpies whistling their warnings. I see the waning gibbous moon above me.

On my way, I sense a sudden stillness. I pause, and slowly turn my head to the source. A fox. I wait. The fox resumes her hunt, digging through the snow for a morsel. Finding something, she quickly chews it down. When she is done, she raises her head to look at me. Her eyes are steady. They hold mine. They seem to say “Well, what are you waiting for?” “Nothing,” I think.

The fox crosses my path and begins her hunt anew on the other side. I walk on. Satisfied with my answer to myself, I continue my journey.

Where am I headed? Anywhere I want. I may even make it up as I go along. I’ll need some tools, but a sharp pencil and a blank sheet of paper will suffice for this trip.

Up ahead there is a bridge on the path. I cross it. The world opens up. I am on my way.

May He Live Long and Prospero

Original artwork by Chris White

This story made the news in the December 10th edition of the Denver Post, but it comes from nearby my previous neck of the woods. About 35 miles south of Greensboro, Siler City, N.C. is a long way from Altair IV, but one of the city's inhabitants has a vision that's as grand as anything dreamed up by William Shakespeare or Gene Roddenberry. And I'm not talking about Aunt Bee's pickles.

He's already a stock market prognosticator, but junk collector Stuart Ellis also wants to be the "Christmas-light king of the world..."

Ellis is selling his flying saucer so he can pay off his credit-card and mortgage debt and then stake himself as a stock-options trader. "I'm going to excel in the stock market and make me some money, and then I'm going to be the Christmas-light king of the world," he said.

Ellis lives on 17 acres with thousands of trees. He's wrapped hundreds of them with about 650,000 lights. But he doesn't have enough money to power them up. So he's selling his saucer.

A Calabasas, Calif., auction company called Profiles in History hopes to auction Ellis' spaceship for $80,000 to $120,000 on Thursday. The auctioneer also hopes to sell Luke Skywalker's light saber from "The Empire Strikes Back," among other Hollywood treasures.

"My mom called me on the phone," Ellis said. "She thought I was totally broke. Which I am not. And she said go find something to sell." He turned to the 82-inch-diameter spaceship hanging from his garage ceiling. It was built for the groundbreaking 1956 sci-fi flick "Forbidden Planet." It also appeared in six episodes of "The Twilight Zone" before MGM auctioned it in 1970s.

Ellis, who grew up going to flea markets and auctions for fun, said he bought it for $150.

Learning to day-trade stock options, Ellis said he believes the Dow Jones industrial average eventually will fall to 500. "I just wanted to say that to you for no reason at all," he explained, "but in about seven to eight years, you're going to understand."

And perhaps by then, someone will look down upon Earth and see a patch of light streaming into space from North Carolina.

"Everybody has a stupid dream," Ellis said. "I have always wanted to be the Christmas-light king of the world."

Neige at Night

Photography by Lauren Oliver

The snow is late this year. Normally, it begins sometime in late October, but this year it didn't arrive until late November. Last night the snow started coming down at about 4:30 and it didn't let up until early this morning.

The weather outside was frightful(ly beautiful)

We were expecting snow on Thanksgiving day, but it came down on Friday instead. So we took a hike - in it. It was starkly glorious.