It has been seven years since that May 12 Mother’s Day, 2008. In memory of my precious wife who got to love her grandchildren ever so briefly. Another song I wrote for her has already been shared with family and friends. I now have the courage to share it with everyone else.
Wow! What a wide variety of artistic talents – oils, acrylics, drawings, sculpture, ceramics, glass, jewelry, collage, photography, weaving, watercolor, works in wood, metal…!
I spent the weekend visiting the artists on the North Dallas Studio Tour. On a whim I decided to take photos of the artists with their work. Because of this it took me about four times as long to see the tour! It’s interesting how asking, “May I take your photo?” immediately starts a conversation. But I loved every second.
I did this a few years ago on the White Rock tour (click here to see: White Rock Artists). Unfortunately, I didn’t have pad or pencil to keep track so I don’t have their names with their photos. I apologize to the artists. Click here: NorthDallasArt for more information. I also apologize for the very amateurish photos. It’s the thought that counts, right?
I encourage everyone to go on one of these tours. You’ll see some outstanding talent and get to visit with the artists right in their studio. You might even find some art for your home or for that perfect and unique gift.
When you lose someone very dear to you it’s strange to see how the world continues turning, people keep on doing whatever they’re doing and life goes on. This is for my wife who I miss every day. And for anyone else who has lost a special person. It’s the fourth song I’ve written for her and each one is a personal struggle. It’s my way of coping.
And then, in addition to the emotional hurdles, the microphone on my computer quit working so I resorted to singing into my iPad. It’s not the best audio but it is what it is.
Click on the title just above the photo.
I wrote the tune and the lyrics. A musician friend of mine, Brandy Herbert, arranged the background (http://www.ladyjazzer.com)
This is what you might call “accidental art.” Some of you won’t call it art at all. But I like it.
Older folks will remember the mimeograph machine. You wrapped a stencil around a big drum, turned the drum, fed paper in one side, ink would be forced through the stencil and a printed sheet of paper would magically come out the other side. Eventually, technology advanced to the point where you didn’t have to hand-crank the thing.
When you were done printing you’d cautiously take the inky stencil off. If you might print more copies later you’d carefully lay the stencil on the original backing sheet.
Various random images would remain on the backing sheet after you took the stencil away. Here’s one that, for some reason, I saved.
Yet another college class assignment; exploring etching/printing. I’ll let you look at it first before I tell you what it is.
I chose to use the Greek letters of the fraternity I was in. Sigma Lambda Chi. Don’t look it up. You’ve never heard of it. It was a local fraternity and I’m told it no longer exists. But we’re having our annual reunion so I dug this up.
This is definitely NOT my art but I make an exception to post it because it has special meaning. Not only is it a treasured gift from a great friend but it includes all my grandkids and was done in time for my wife to enjoy it.
This is REALLY old! I came across it recently and decided I’d share.
On a whim I decided I’d take a cake decorating class. It was a lot of fun. I had a great time decorating special cakes for my kids. This is one of those cakes I did for my daughter. I designed it to match the napkins and plates my wife had bought. Unfortunately, the word spread that I could decorate cakes and every cousin’s best friend who was having whatever kind of shower wanted me to decorate their cake for them. I retired.
The good folks at the Lake Highlands Advocate honored me with a nice feature article in their magazine.
Yep, that’s my “studio.” Drawings and paintings on the wall; the rug my grandmother made for me in the 1960s. The photographer, Danny Fulgencio, set up a very good photo, but, no, I would never actually draw under such bizarre light and shadow conditions.