by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Life, Mr. Spouse |
Sunday night as I write this. You know what that means–CONSTRUCTION PHOTOS! YAY!!!
Mr. Spouse got all the plywood up on the roof this weekend. And the skylights cut.
I do not like seeing Mr. Spouse on the roof. It’s a long way down, you know. And I don’t like it when he gets cranky up there and gets further distracted swearing at inanimate objects. He swears loudly. But no matter how loud, no matter how choice his vocabulary, the objects can’t hear him. Which is a good thing. Because if they responded and began dancing around like things do in Disney movies, it would distract him even more.
Did I mention it’s a long way down….
When the plywood first went up, it was sad not seeing the trees through the roof.
But I can see them now. This is the north side.
This is the south. This is also the wall with lots of windows.
It’s raining now. Might snow tonight. Everything is buttoned up until next weekend.
To the left you can see one of two wood cribs (AKA Fuel Pavilions) Mr. Spouse built earlier. Notice the stone facing. Mr. Spouse is fond of rocks. That’s because we can trace his lineage back to Fred Flintstone. The two sides of the studio visible here will be rocked. But not until AFTER I’m in it and working.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Beloved Beasties, Dogs |
Sophie and Bean are Malitpoos, a cross between Maltese and Poodle. They grow hair like Rapunsel. Grows and grows until someone cuts it off. Usually me. Because a groomer takes one look at them and puts the clippers on ‘scalp’. Just wack it off down to the skin. Poor babies look like rotisserie chickens for a couple of weeks, until a little growth comes in.
But the groomers don’t really have a choice. My best beloved puppies tend to get a wee bit matted. Think steel wool…and that’s Bean’s hair. Curly steel wool. Sophie’s coat is deceptively soft and wavy. But it’s just as rowdy as her brother’s.
Both of them are like velcro. And since we live in the forest and they’re low to the ground…ah, keeping them groomed would be a full time job. They attract every twig, every burr, every pine needle on the trail. The ones that don’t come off on the furniture are like pearls, working their way deep into the coat, twisting the hair around until another dreadlock is formed.
By this time of year the coats are pretty long. Not a bad thing if it was winter. But winter hasn’t happened this year. So Sophie got a hair cut. It was only logical. She was sitting on my lap, the scissors were handy. Fate. Whatever. Sophie has a new ‘doo, except for her face. And one or two of her legs. Face has to wait until I can find the blunt edge scissors. Legs have to wait until we’re both in the mood.
This is what I got off her. Oh? Just dog hair. What’s the big deal?
Got enough hair to make another dog! That’s the big deal.
Really, look at that! But it won’t play!
Next comes the face. Someday.
Bean knows he’s next. Not now, but soon. He’ll keep his distance for a little while.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
Three canvases, two 2×2, one 3×4. Good size. Good music. Good time in Studio Grande.
Works in progress. Three layers? Four? I don’t even remember. But that doesn’t matter because there will be many more before these are done. Not my usual palette, I’ll warm them up. But I want to retain some bright too. Tomorrow…tomorrow will see.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Life |
I like this on-going bliss list thing. Makes me stop and notice the little moments, the ones that might get away otherwise. Makes me stop and go AHA! now this is something worth remembering.
Like the full moon in a rain so soft it’s not really rain, just moisture in the air. Watching it rise up through the woods. Through the pines. And then in the wee hours, when I wake up and look out the window and the ground looks like it’s covered in snow. But it’s not. It’s moonlight.
Like when I’m lovin’ on the ponies, saying goodnight. I make the kiss-kissy sounds and old horse cranes her neck forward so I can plant one on her nose, while the boy gives a soft, quick bump of his lips against my forehead.
Like Sophie. Always bliss. ALWAYS. Look at that face! And I can’t have a bliss list without a dog now, can I?
Like sitting on the sofa with DaughterDear, reminiscing about Mama, her Grandma. Telling stories. Laughing.
Like waking up the day AFTER the stomach flu and feeling NORMAL. Normal…Oh. My. God. NORMAL!!! Oh yes, now THAT’S what I call BLISS!
Your turn, my sweetums. Leave your lists in the comments below. And for more feel good blogs today, hop on over to Liv Lane and check out The Little Bliss List BLog Hop.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art |
Today I’d like to share more art with you, pieces created at the same time as the two previous ones featured in Flying. These two are what would’ve been the dip in the diptych of those others had I not let nature take its course and…distract me.
The palettes are similar because I tend to mix too much paint, especially when using the cold wax. And since I can’t see wasting it…TaTa! A series is born!
And now, without further ado….
Free Flight, oil and cold wax. 12″x24″
This one is special for me. I look at it and see a soul breaking free from its earthly ties. I see Mama just drifting away. Floating.
Grounded. Oil, cold wax and plaster. 12″x24″
This is the opposite. Weighty. Solid. Like a rock, or the earth. The plaster underneath adds to the texture.
I really enjoy working this way. With brayers and squeegies and bare hands steeped in the buttery oils stiffened with wax. Pushing and pulling the paint along in layers upon layers. Scraping it back. Scribbling with pencil. With pigment sticks. Losing myself in the process until the muse whispers…it’s done.
