Saturday, April 29, 2006

House I

muslin, caning, raffia, wax, light fixture.

My father used to make me tee-pees in the summers, it's one of my fondest childhood memories. These are two views of the same sculpture. The piece makes me feel content with changes in life. Things we love, things that must pass away.

House II

2.5' glass cube, wax, light fixture, plywood, black paint.

This sculpture is much more complicated that it would seem. If you peer into the 1" square "windows," inside you will see a 1' glass cube filled with water, and within that a 6" glass cube filled with stratified dirt, chalk, carbon, and sand. The wax on the exterior cube created an unplanned hall of mirrors effect. The water cube repeats "infinitely." Shamefully, I've no photos of the interior.

When the piece is taken outside in the sunshine, it glows aqua blue, like arctic snow, quite the opposite of its yellow hues when lit from within.


linen lace eyelet, raffia, japanese maple leaves, wax.


Linen lace eyelet, raffia, rose petals, wax.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

The Death Card

Oil on canvas. Anlage, quasimodo, working on it! Horse is WAY too Disney, looove the skeleton.


Charcoal and pencil on paper. Sketch for painting(?)

I like this mostly. But I am leery of the female looking too "fashiony," or themes of "goddess power" in general. Still, I like her expression. By all rights mythological, that moon should be a crescent. The deer please me. This photo quality does not.

Sin Eaters

Oil on canvas. Work in progress. Originally I wanted this to be coldly, starkly white. Dry, bone aching cold white. And yet have a sense of nighttime. I am not happy with the dun beigeness - too muddy. But I also really want a white crow, an old crow. The composition is not there yet. I love the white bird, and when I get all those candy jewel insects packed on that plate, I'll be happier. Originally they were meant to be bones. Too obvious.

I promise, I'm not depressed!


Pencil and pastel on paper.


Pencil on paper. Wow, a really clear photo can go all awry on here.

Monsters, Inc.

This was a little color pencil doodling for a children's book idea.


Oil on canvas. Never finished. My bad.

Bad Cat

Acrylic on Paper. This one always makes me happy. I guess it's a bit of an inside joke. Unfortunately, no one else has ever seemed pleased with it. Too bad, I can't see anything wrong with it.


Oil on canvas. Feet are problematic, but this is a personal favorite.

Hunting Party - Umatilla Res.

Oil on canvas. Again, anatomy problems of human proportion. Very happy with the dogs, tho'. It was a very fun day. Upland game.



Oil on paper. This is not a literal self-portrait, though it is often assumed. However, all the images we create certainly speak to or represent elements inside of us. I just thought she was kind of sweet and purty. Maybe it's Daphne.

The Very Unstable Chicken

This is maybe my third oil painting. Was very happy with the faces and, for the most part, figures of the children. Would love to remove the ludicrous picture in the background.
This reminds many people of Fanny and Alexander. Often, we hang it up for Halloween. It's pretty large.


Colored pencil and watercolor on paper.
The anatomy here is poor, but again, I like the color and content.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Cold Feet

Book illustration. Water color and colored pencil on paper.

The Deli Counter

More illustration. Colored pencil and watercolor on paper.
Her arm looks broken. Still, I was happy with all the tedious detail and color.


Book illustration. Anatomy is better than many other of my drawings.


Another early oil on canvas. This time about my relatives. The theme looks terribly "Children of the Corn," and the girl's frighteningly Neanderthal-ish. Too bad. Again, poor photo - I will defend the composition and actual use of paint - have to get some detail on here. I'm particularly proud of the rendering of the sunflowers.

Anyway, Grant Wright (my not so great-uncle), used to line his children up in their Kansas farmhouse, point his shotgun at them, and threaten to shoot. One day, in a jealous rage, he murdered his wife while out on a picnic, or so I'm told. Then he came home and went after the children. They escaped to the corn fields, where they hid successfully until daddy blew his brains out.

A French ami has suggested I do a series about American Violence.

Amity Fire

This is the first oil painting I ever did. The assignment was to do something cubist. I'm sure I cheated a bit.

The story is one from my step-father's family. His aunt, mother of three, in the hospital birthing a fourth. Father home tending to the little ones. A fire starts, and he is passed out drunk in the kitchen. Someone pulls him out, but the children perish.

(photo quality is terrible. i'll fix that soon as i can.)