MONARCH BUTTERFLY

   


 



     A little watercolor of another 'flutterby'
   One of the easier fun ones ... like when you were twelve and you found that special page in your coloring book ...and time stood still

 

Monarch Butterfly

LIKE A STONE

                I am invisible
            like a stone on the beach
            it is only when you pause
            when you are bent deep
            yourself
            on days like these
            that you will see me
            if you have patience enough
            to gather waste that has littered 
            my shore
            you will eventually find me

            I am not like the others


            Hold me
            on moonlit nights
            that you may feel my texture
            my warmth
            and when it is time to return me there
            you will have found
            my space has shifted
            shallowed with time
            so there is nothing left
            but to carry my weight
            my solid weight
            in your mind 

             poem by annie
    

           

               

               

WOMAN TO WOMAN

 

           This artist Tamara de Lempicka born in Poland 1898
had quite a wild and exciting life for a lady of her time. Her art is collected by Madonna, Jack Nicholson and others.  Madonna has lent her art pieces and they can even be glimpsed in some of her videos. The artist claimed to be bi-sexual.  The painting above titled 'Spring' is one of my favorites and inspired the poem I share here.  You can read more about this artist here

                                     WOMAN TO WOMAN

                You come to me across the room 

                Not out of passion but something stronger 

                like the old tom cat at four a.m

                who crawls on my chest for comfort

                and from that howl and unable to breath

                I open one eye to meet his cat eye

                round like a saucer

                fling him at the moon

                to crash that old wicker chair you salvaged

                from Gables Market 

                instantly sorry

                see him sulk through the corners to darkness  

                Now here you are

                whimpering urgent hard against my hip

                as a lovers erection

                worse

                you like some shadow of childhood

                shiver through your thin cotton gown

                I teeter on the edge of sleep wondering

                what

                what is it about the night that makes us too

                loose our claws

                and being proud

                of never making the same mistake twice

                I curl in behind you mouth to your hair

                caress your back woman to woman

                whisper that tomorrow being Sunday                

                I'll help you plant your roses

                       poem by annie

            

              

 

ART BATTLE 2

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

                      Well hell yeah, I know it's been a couple of months but don't say I never do what I threaten to do.

                I took part in Art Battle Halifax.
               
               With the exception of one brave man I was  the oldest there which is what I expected.  Cool young dudes  smeared with paint  creating cool  canvases, and girls barely primed with the first layer of life squeezing out globs of alizaren the color of their cheeks.  One girl painted her lips with it and started off by kissing her canvas.

               Hard to compete against that.

               But art has no age limit right?  So there we were.. twelve of us would be placed in front of blank canvases tonight and given 20 minutes to paint something.  WITHOUT REFERENCE MATERIAL.

               I have to paint what I know.  Something from the farm??...  Something I see every day?..  there in my mind... its form and color easy to slap down in 20 min.  The overhead lights are bright.   Adrenalin  pumping along with the music that rattles the floor.  The bar is open. A lovely couple I meet buy me a drink.  And another.  Around 100 guests and spectators circled around the artists waiting for the countdown.  These guests would be the judges casting their ballots for their favorite painting.  Would an artist faint?.  Cut off their ear?  Throw up there hands and just head for the bar? 
                
               " Aren't you nervous? " challenged one trembling creator.

               " I'm old enough" I said, "there's nothing much left to be afraid of. "

              10... 9... 8... 7... 6 ...5..  We grab our brushes and we're off.

              You can see my masterpiece in the photo.  A quick version of one of the peacocks that roam our country property.  I was  happy with it except time ran out before I could paint a nostril on him.  At the end of the evening our paintings would be auctioned off in a silent auction. 

                  Would anyone notice?

             Did I win Art Battle?  Noooo.... but this is the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on.  If time could fly like that when you're at the dentist... or doing your taxes.

            If you would like to see the winner and a few pics of this little fiasco check the article  here.

            I don't get out much and when I do I like to do something that stays in my memory bank.  This was one of those things.  I can't explain why an introvert closet artist who ponders for hours over little paintings would want to do such a reckless thing.  But I do know I would like to do it again.  Perhaps I will do better sober.

            And my peacock?  He did find a home.  I hope he hasn't suffocated. 

                                                                                                                  

ART BATTLE

                              I went to "Art Battle" at the local bar last evening.  Artists have twenty minutes to create a painting from scratch and the audience votes for their favorite.  The winners from three rounds face off in the final battle.

                     Fueled by adrenalin and alcohol  (which are two of my favorite things)  I really liked this event.  I may even try it myself sometime.  I always aim for a looser painting style and if you start a canvas while your IN the bar.... I mean how much better can it get?

A BIRD IN THE HAND IS WORTH TWO BRUISED

                        


                         I am an advocate for chickens.  I've spent enough time with them to know that they feel pain, fear, and the joy of being free.  My grandson helped me load 24 meat birds in the back of my PT Cruiser to take them for slaughter to a private and humane farmer.  I turned up CBC radio and didn't talk on the way because I didn't want to bore them to death.   By the time they arrived at their final destination they were calm and already drowsy.

                       A good death is just as important as a good life.


                       I know a few people raising birds in their back yard makes very little difference in the big marketing scheme of things but if you have the opportunity please try to buy local free range chicken.

                      I gave my grandson some cash and a chicken dinner and asked if he would do me one more favour.  
                      
                      He had to clean my car.
   http://www.mfablog.ca/2013/03/shocking-truth-about-chicken-and-turkey-slaughter.html