Once Upon A Time…..and now

EXPRESSIONISM is a radical distortion of perspective to demonstrate the emotional effect of the world on the Painter, and thereby evoke mood and ideas in the Viewer. Expressionists are not looking for, or at, absolute reality. But the heart of the Expressionist Painter may assimilate life in unorthodox form and explosive color.

Which, it seems to me, is right up the alley of any kid.

Bed In Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson

In winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light.

In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?

Children turn into grown ups.

Georgia O’Keeffe, oil portrait by Sparhawk

When Georgia O’Keeffe grew up she ran into New Mexico’s thunderstorms to catch electricity.
   Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.
SPARHAWK is a trailblazing 1-woman 1-cottage cottage industry inspiring the world through audacity. If I were dropped in the middle of a meadow in my petticoats I would still make my way in the world.  QEI  & The Hawk

Sparhawk

EXPRESSIONISM in all arts became a movement at the turn of the 20th Century. But its practitioners before and after included the likes of: EL GRECO, NIETZSCHE, VAN GOGH, DE KOONING, KAHLIL GIBRAN, MUNCH, ROUALT, KANDINSKY, KLEE, and SPARHAWK.


About children’s books…..I am continuing to complete a half dozen children’s books, all variously illustrated with my paintings and drawings, and my original writing. Dedicated to the unusual & possibly strange which are the bedfellows of the young.

 

This Wooly Mammoth is Nobody's Fool

LOOTIE is a wooly mammoth in love with a circus juggler. This is Lootie, after the first date, heading back early morning to the big tent with a rose bouquet and strawberry frappe for her fellow, Sweetie Reetie. She discovers the circus left town in the dark of night, and, in the well documented W.Mammoth tradition of certainty that love conquers all, sets out to find him.

The Outer Space Pup

The Amazing Adventures of Ginger Snap, (black terrier). Ginger describes, to her human and the house cat Babette, an earlier life on a threatened planet. Faced with scorning disbelief, forced to reveal her secrets, Ginger brings them to the edge of the earth. Thus begins an amazing adventure. Anything is possible.

 

 

 

The 2 Pillow Cat.

The 2 Pillow Cat. A small town is struck by disaster. Though all survive,  the town must be reconstructed. It becomes the mission (and a source of ingenious discovery) for a young girl to provide a safe haven for her cat, who has been unsettled by change, and is unable to nap, ever, at all,  with anything less than two pillows. Period.

 

 

 

 

Brilliant Child Conducts Interesting Life

Doctor Manxi and Her Inimitable Bear. Her history is shrouded in deep fogs, no one knows how she became a doctor at the age of five, nor how she comes to possess extraordinary wisdom. In her small farming village up north, she and her bear solve weighty problems while wandering the hills, and provide useful morals. It is Dr Manxi’s passion to learn something new every day. And find a delicious snack en route. Nothing, she has discovered, is too small to pay attention to. The inimitable bear concurs.

Dream Big

The Rich Dreams of A Poor Cat. (Artists Don’t Eat Every Day). A struggling city artist shares the ups and downs of fluctuating prosperity with her cat, who lives a rich fantasy life replete with servants and a 24 hour a day well staffed and loaded kitchen.

 

 

Recent Posts

“THE NEW HAT”~ Sparhawk painting

 

“THE NEW HAT”

I painted this years ago in one hot humid summer week.  I was exploring me, testing my mettle on 60 desolate acres in the log cabin I’d rented in Blue Ridge mountains alongside Harper’s Ferry, where I feverishly filled canvases with pictures for a gallery I found that said they’d take me, and filled notebooks with words for the bones of a novel, for which the publisher remains unfound.

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I needed a break. Too broke to shop for real (and DC was about 2 hours east), this was the substitute. Okay, imagine with me: speeding off in a fabulous little (Robin’s egg blue) Sunbeam Alpine convertible (my dilapidated old Ford on its last legs) to an unbelievably divine shop (somewhere) and buying a hat! matching the dress! Not a farm hat but one incapable of protecting from wind or rain or bees, simply THE superb bonnet made for late afternoon drinks in an incredibly gorgeous famous old Washington bar with a handsome poet who just phoned he’d be landing his seaplane on the Shenandoah especially to meet me ~~4:30 sharp  ~or thereabouts. Be there! He could only stay til Wednesday. Before which he’d be ripping off said new hat etc. and we would be lost to lust. So here in the picture, rushed home to try it on, all the bits around including the hatbox and tissue it came in, getting ready for my quick dip in the pond then roaring off on the long and dusty trail to my rendezvous. Oh what a life!

Well, I thought about it all week while I worked on this, and the marvelous fantasy embroidered itself in. Big canvas too, about 7 X 4 feet. It went to the gallery in Middleburg,  Virginia where it did not sell.

The following fall I moved west.  The New Hat  went from east coast storage to garage to covering a broken fireplace flue above the mantelpiece in some godforsaken cottage; then across America in moving vans to horse ranches and eventually slotted into the back of a 1974 Chevy & up the mountains of Yosemite.  There, 7  years later on the day before I moved back to the coast The New Hat sold to the Yosemite gallery owner who’d exhibited my work and fallen in love with it. Which happily covered gas and my first month at a fellow artist’s house in Pebble Beach, a room of my own en suite, the smell and sound of the sea, and the sight of the breakers  below. And some sweet romps with an interesting surfer who never read poetry or wrote it, preferred beer to Benedictine, couldn’t pilot a plane, didn’t like being indoors ever but knew how to handle serious waves and me, and did nice work with fish on a campfire, too.

There’s never any telling where a new hat will take you.

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