Shepherd's gaze

"...And there was the baby, lying in the manger.
After seeing him, the shepherds told everyone what had happened and what the angel had said to them about this child."

-Luke 2:16b-17

Wonder of Christmas

Temoporary hiatus

Unfortunately, in the confusion of cleaning up after the mu-mu celebrating my brother's 21st birthday, the camera got misplaced.

So posting will be slowed until it is found.

broken string

Illustration of me staring in dismay as the arrow shoots foward minus the majority of the thread attached to it. Red pen.

A wild and crazy week.

An attempt at a wide-eyed, over-busy look, self-potrait without looking in the mirror except to double check ears at the end. I tend to use myself often to check something when drawing people that I thought it was worth a try.
Not quite good.

Many apologies once again.
I'd hoped to at least post something for Thanksgiving. Maybe next week.

This week has been full. There was treasure hunt planning to do (some art involved, but it was taken to its location upon its completion yesterday), the writing of lines for nine-characters so that my students could audition for parts before they wrote their play, cpr and first aid training at scouts, housecleaning - home and elsewhere, errands, a car running out of gas, finishing my brother's present, which I'd hoped to share here, but is currently wrapped up, the auditions, the figuring out how to work with ancient thread and a bow and arrow to rig a balloon up between two trees, and baking.

Thanksgiving day was a wonderful break.

Tuareg (Tamajeq) Man

I had a lot of trouble with the camel's head on this one. It pays to have a reference photo rather than relying on memory.

One of my friends when I was little was of the Tamajeq. Hence they have a special place in my heart.

The turban is indigo, and stains the skin for quite some time after dyeing. I think that's why the Tamajeq are sometimes known as the blue men of the desert.

Three Days to See - concept art for a potential cover

In an earlier post, I spoke of getting to play Helen Keller in a movie production. This is my attempt to come up with a worthwhile cover for the dvd, which currently has only a print label.

I chose eyes, in part to reflect what she sees, and in part because she speaks of "looking long" into the faces of her loved ones, and the eye is an important part of that.

I wanted "see" in color as I chose to have the seeing days represented in color.

As I write this post, I reminded again to give thanks for sight; to not take it for granted, but to look and see, especially the eyes of friends.

Weighty things -- and a light heart?

I'm sorry for not posting last week. Adjusting to several new responsibilities has not proved easy.

Here is a picture I painted over the week-end. Quotes are from a poem by E. Barrett. It was a needed reminder, as Russian history has proven weighty.

"running to Him with arms open wide"



"a heart light, not because it hasn't considered weighty things, but because it has not seen the need to carry them on its own"

A bit of fall

A friend asked me for a painting that involved Autumn. This is part of the results. It was rather fun to paint as I got to mix reds and yellows.

A different sort of art - tangram cakes

Challenge: Turn one oatmeal flour cake into a tanagram design for an eight year old boy.

Difficulty: Oat cakes are very good, but tend to be quite crumbly

Actually, the hardest part was figuring out an acceptable design. Giraffes and cats are cute, but not to be compared to the hammer cake I was also decorating. Fortunately my oldest younger brother had figured out the pieces and cut them out, so that I could play around with it. I knew I had only one chance to place the cake pieces on the cookie tray. I was glad when the ship shape met approval.

Then came a very careful lifting out and putting them in place. Then the icing. That made life a little difficult. Icing cut wheat flour cakes can be difficult enough without a glaze first. Oat flour cakes make them seem almost easy by comparison. This was a little disappointing, as I enjoy playing around with icing.

Still - it was a tangram cake!

Land of Just Pretend

Just a sketch while playing around with a pen.

Pen sketches

Pen sketching while listening to Radio Theatre: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe during rest hour Pen is both a joy to work with, and frustrating, as one can't erase. Since my 2nd/3rd grade teacher insisted everything be done in pen (including math), a lot of my doodles have been in pen - though I would never had dared to doodle on work for her - perhaps not even scratch work.

Aslan's song

This is inspired somewhat by listening to Focus on the Family's Radio Theatre: Magician's Nephew, and in part by the wonderful week-end I spent with a friend from school.

A quick study

This is just a quick study, done in colored pencil of a ballet dancer in motion from one of the books I am reading to prepare for teaching about Russia.

Paper doll sketches for Russian studies

Since I'm teaching a few different age levels, I thought I'd make some Russian paper dolls at least for the youngest. That way, she'll have something Russian related to keep her occupied with when she gets bored. I may end up making one per child though.

Cartography - aii.

A map slightly larger than A4 drawn for a home-school study on Russia.

I've struggled with cartography off and on ever since I was six and trying to draw a map of Burkina Faso for U in an alphabet book. My mother solved the problem by telling me to draw the basic shape.

Drawing maps of imaginary countries was fun - I could doing anything I liked with landmass. It was copying the real maps that proved a problem. I did get better, but it is still frustrating to finish a map, and discover that some angles were off and that the sides didn't quite meet (as in this one).

On the other hand, there are small perks, such as discovering that the north east corner of Russia looks like a little dog:

A little mouse

This was a break from nests and houses.

wonder

Quote to ponder:
"rather than making America more Christian, the mega-churches have simply succeeded in making Christianity more American"
D. Goodmanson on modern churches

Man proposes...

So, after saying that I hoped to take a break from the computer for a little bit this week, I received a commission for which I decided to use the computer for reference photos as I've found that unless I have had experience drawing something, reference is necessary.

Here is the result of the sketchings,albeit a bit fuzzy (my apologies):

A break

My apologies for not having a picture to go with this.
I am seriously considering setting apart at least a portion of next week as a break from the computer. Hence, I will likely not be posting.
God bless.

Lucy seeing Aslan

from the book Prince Caspian

Never Alone

Wonder of Christmas

It was Christmas. The rehearsal was in full swing. Mary sat demurely contemplating the plastic doll, trying to pretend it was the same as the year before, when she had a real baby to love and hold. The shepherds, 3 younger boys came up the aisle. One walked slow and solemn, the others full of glee.

They came and knelt, and the solemn one knelt and assumed the prayerful attitude one sees on classic Christmas cards. The other two crowded forward eagerly and reached out to touch the doll. As soon as he saw this, the first boy began to signal frantically. That wasn't how things were done.

but Mary sat and pondered these things in her heart. The two had come with joy and eager wonder. Had the original ones come with such?

This is an hour's work on an index card and I'm afraid it's not the best. I'd like to have worked on it more, but other things await. Someday, though, I'll try again, and perhaps again, until I can hopefully capture the joy and wonder of those two as they pressed forwards to see the "baby."

Top 3 excuses for not doing art homework

""I had to make supper and that included picking the beans and then ..."

"We had a sudden influx of peaches and they had to be cut for drying and we have four driers and no one wanted to help and..."

"Horses suddenly appeared in my backyard"

I don't officially have homework for art, but my afternoon was interrupted by horses appearing in my backyard.

Filled with wonder and delight, I went out to see them, to see if I could get a glimpse of any identifying marks, and to hopefully figure out a way to encourage them to stay.

I was about 10 feet away when I realized it might have been wise to bring something to halter the horses if I managed to actually get close to them. This in itself was a little doubtful as they looked to be stallions.

Still, if I could... A cursory glance around showed little. There was a thin orange twine nearby, but it looked like it would be uncomfortable for the horse. As I debated, I slowly pulled at it, and meeting resistance nixed the idea at once.

I then pulled up some grass. Perhaps they would take something from my hand.
by now, our next door neighbours, (N.1) had shown up, as well as more children. I grew a little nervous as to how the horses would react to so many strangers.
Then the dog belonging to N.1 also finally got around to noticing that there were strange creatures in the yard next to hers, and began barking.

That, and perhaps my close presence, was a little too much for the horses. One of them decided to amble off towards the road. "All for one," the rest followed, although the last horse came first to me, and took the grass I proffered.

He then let me walk along beside him, holding his mane. I began to debate as to whether or not I should try to mount the horse. It had been three years since I had last done so. I was afraid of spooking him further. At the same time, they were heading off, and I didn't know how much I could keep up with them if they decided to go faster.

It was at that point the group of children and N.1 thought that perhaps loud noise would scare them away from the road. The horses reacted by going faster. I tried quickly to mount, failed, and ran along, grasping the mane. As they broke out into a trot, I let go, afraid I would fall else.

At this point I began to run alongside. A neighbour who works across the street and has horses had been called (N.2). I knew that the horses needed some sort of supervision. So I ran, feet slapping on the rough tarmac.
A neighbour (N.3) along the street called out, "lovely horses." Shooting past her, I answered, "Yes, ma'am."

Then N.2 caught up with us in a little cart. He was trying to herd them around just as a mini-van came around the corner. The horses spooked even more, and broke into a run.

I quickly dropped behind, and fearing I could do little, started walking back. I stopped to talk with N.3, who told me the horses had indeed come from the direction they were now running in.

Seeing N.1 drive by in his Rabbit, I took off to try and tell him the news. He stopped, let me in, and we drove to find that the cart had gotten caught in a ditch and the horses had stopped next to a retired chicken farmer and his field.

Another neighbour (N.4) had driven in after talking to N.2, and was keeping watch.

I went slowly up and tried to make friends again. N.2. told me to try and open the gate nearby. It proved to be padlocked with a rusty lock. So, I stood there, trying to keep them calm. They let me stand among them, and feed them a little, and pet them, but largely ignored me.

N.2, went and talked to the chicken farmer, and found out that there was another gate open around the barn. He asked me to try and lead them. That didn't work so much.
Then the one who had led the others towards the road (perhaps the mastermind of the breakout?) decided to move. He went around the barn and straight into the pasture of his own accord, leading the other "Musketeers."

After they settled a bit, N. 2 asked me to check the fence for apertures. Sure enough there was one on the far corner, where termites had felled a couple of fence posts. So I took up guard and watched them from a distance.

In the meantime, N.2 went off with N.1 and his son to try to find the owner. While they were gone, neighbours of the chicken farmer (N.5), came over with some boards and nails, and propped up the fence posts.

It wasn't long before they returned with the news that they thought they had found the owner, at work, but being notified by his father.

Horses secured, owner found, we went home.

A spoonful of fun makes the chores go quickly

Sometimes all one needs to make work fun is a companion and a little imagination.

My 7-year-old brother and I were taking care of the morning's batch of green beans. He was washing, and I was stringing. At first work went normal.
He rubbed the beans and placed them into the bowl for me to string.

Then things got interesting. I think the beans first started missing the bowl and landing into the sink.
Then they were on the sink.
Soon he was laughing, and soon almost every bean was jumping. I kept insisting they were not Mexican Jumping beans, but he only laughed and the beans kept jumping.

Most made it into the bowl. A few landed in the dishes still unloaded. One even landed in the potato bag!

Afterwards, as we sat down to eat lunch, I doodled a bean on the back of junk mail.
My brother liked it, so I later added some color:

\
Jumping bean cousin ready for mischief


(We won't mention the time I talked my siblings into throwing the washing into the tree rather than on the clothes line)

Joy comes in the morning

All was still. The tears were gone, leaving a quiet emptiness. Slowly she began to read again.

The words thrust home bring quiet wonder with them. For the moment, joy reigned.



This was just a quick little painting on an index card.

Initially I thought that this picture was just one of delight, even though while I painted her eyes, I thought she looked sad. The more I looked at her eyes however, the more it looked like she had indeed been crying, but had been reminded of God's goodness.

Not in a superficial way, but in a way that reached the depth of her being, so that for a moment "crying slept softly with joy" (Miller).

A Colorado tree

I drew this while taking a break from the moving deer. I think the strange object floating above the tree is an attempt at an ear.

Sorry things have been a bit sporadic since I've come back.

A growing wonder through sketching

I must admit, I wasn't quite sure what to make of mule deer when I saw them up close. I liked their ears, - but they were so different from our white-tail deer here on the east coast (never mind the little African deer I used to see in zoos).





Then they stayed and stayed and stayed. So I grabbed my sketch book and began to draw.




I now have several pages worth of little bits, perhaps studies, of the deer. And as I drew I began to really see them.

I began to appreciate how God had designed them and to see their beauty. It was a wonderful hour.

Off to adventure

I'm leaving in a couple of days to go visit my brother who is at the Air Force Academy.
So, since I doubt I will have access to a computer much in the next two weeks, I will most likely not be posting.
I'll be taking my sketchbook, so hopefully I'll have a few new sketches or paintings to share.
In the meantime, Tea with Tiffany has some interesting posts related to wonder and delight.

Wise words on beauty and suffering and reflections thereon

Reflected Light (bethimpson.wordpress.com) has several essays worth reading, including one on beauty and one on suffering.

Reading them, it makes me wonder about my visual art. Do I paint Truth? Does it include suffering?
I'm not sure it does. Part of it is that I have yet to gain the technical skill.

Upon reflection however, there are paintings. I do not have time to dig them up now, and they are far from good, but I will describe a few.

There is the girl in the karite tree, looking into the sky, with a bit of longing. There is the storm around a rock with a cleft, in which a girl is hidden. Amazingly, the rock is in the shape of a hand (not planned by me).

There are the attempts to draw hope. There is the girl with the broken heart, and the subsequent ones drawn of her giving it to her Father, and then, hugging the new one.

So why have I walked away from these paintings?
There are probably several reasons, but I am afraid the biggest one is the same reason I have had trouble sitting down to write recently -- I am afraid. It is slightly scary to do a reasonable sized painting one wants to get right technically when one is still learning to control the paint. It is another thing to walk the fine line between beauty and suffering.

Not that there isn't a place to see and watch the wonders of the stars, and to portray the wonder of the shepherds (the painting I am slightly scared of). There is, but as Dr. Impson wisely says, we cannot ignore suffering. She says, building on the wisdom of others, that it is only by going through suffering can we find joy, and more importantly, to have our eyes opened to know God.

I think I need to pray.

gifts and unexpected opportunities

Sometimes gift can be used in places and ways one would never expect, even small gifts.

A couple of summers ago, I went to India for three months as a teacher's aid.
The school had a small collection of learn-to-read English, about which was nice, but not enough for a classroom of twenty to thirty children.
So one of my supervisors, a very dear lady from England, took the words from the books and wrote new stories for them on giant card. She then asked me to illustrate them.







A friend of my mother's, reflecting on her own mother's life service, said that it was likely that the decorating she did for various friends living overseas was among the greatest service she had ever done. My guess is that this women thought she was just helping out with what she enjoyed doing.

I hope to remember that, even when helping is little more than being the dog running to get Dad.

addendum

I cannot sleep knowing that I ended rather simplistically.

If God is loving and in control, then why so many wrong things?
Why human bondage?
Why was a bird that was not a bird flew up into the air, to be shot in cold blood?
Why are so many were raped, imprisoned and beaten?
Why did L. M. Montgomery suffered as a pastor's wife?
Why did my brother die?

The answer is complex, I think, and I am far from understanding it.
This much I know, however: Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus and over the city of Jerusalem. Evil things happen, and God allows them, but He still cares.

Anne, beauty, wonder, and life

I really like the story of Anne of Green Gables.

Initially it was just a good story about a girl who was a kindred spirit. I was six when I first read Anne, and started spelling my middle name, Ann, with an e. That went on until my mother caught it and explained I'd been named without the e for a reason.

Then, as a teen-ager and on into my twenties, I began to feel akin to Anne, because I too was "of Nowhere in Particular." There is no particular place I felt I could say I belong to. Gradually, though, I came to accept that I was adopted into God's family. Like, Anne, I am no longer of Nowhere.

Recently, I've come to appreciate her wonder in life around her. Anne had been through a lot in her early years, and yet the beauty of the world around her never ceased to give her joy.

Later in life, it would be tempered and enriched and deepened by sorrow, but it was not destroyed.

A young man about to be executed wrote his fiancée that the natural outcome of sorrow is happiness, if one would let it. I think Anne wisely let it happen.

The world is a lovely place. Sometimes it seems too lovely.

I remember walking campus after hearing of human trafficking, and seeing the soul-stirring beauty around me, and almost crying out at the dichotomy. It is not always an easy thing to reconcile.

And yet--
in a way it speaks of hope.
There is much evil and wrong, but the God of beauty and order and love is still in control.

I know L.M. Montgomery struggled with life, and I have yet to read much of her life, but I like to hope that like Anne, some part of her clung to the wonder in the world and God's goodness.

Phantastes reading meeting

Phantastes

In distant past when days were shorter
When Bryan's boys and Bryan's girls
Few in number Knew each other
Then a Junior Joy by name
Not yet travelled Never been to other worlds
Heard the call Come to Narnia

With five others Found the way
Through the dead land Damned by Jadis
Who despairing, death Dealt with a word
That word of secrets Since forgotten
Word of terror, Winning nothing
Save the pride Of the Speaker of doom




There the witch
They saw awoken
By the children Brought from our world
And through this
They entered Narnia
Watching how the Witch came also
Seeing Narnia New created

(Here the several lines become illegible, ruined by water, reportedly
in the great flood of Robinson Hall, or North as its name was called
in the ancient times).

On they went Through days and months
Seeking always Some adventure
Others joining On the way
Then at last They spoke together.
Chose a regent Ruler of them
Formed a club Phantastes named it

(Here the rest of the poem is lost, blurred with water. Most scholars
believe that it contained more information concerning the formation of
the club and the adventures continuing afterwards. The following
portion was discovered in the kitchen of Robinson, being used as shelf
paper. While some scholars debate the authenticity of the manuscript,
most agree it is the ending of the poem).

Still the Narnians* Seek adventure

Thursday now They travel on
Still the Regent Sends out e-mails
Calling Narnians Come and travel


*Although the group was officially called Phantastes, a letter
recovered from an e-mail account of the original Lord Regent shows
that among themselves, they used the name Narnians.


These are pictures from the sketch of the original Illustrator, yours truly.

I was not one of the original six, but was there when the club was formed. We met once a week in the evenings to read children's literature, passing the book from one to another



I almost always had a sketch book along. Others would bring knitting, paper cutting, sewing

- and yes, even homework...















Goodnight

Improvement = Practice : a visual representation of what practice can do

The above picture was a simple sketch done five years ago. To be honost, I thought it was pretty good at the time and compared to what I did five years previous to that, it was.

The picture below is a simple sketch done a few weeks ago. I haven't taken any art lessons, though I have likely picked up a few things from books and looking at other's art.

What made the difference is constant doodling and experimentation almost any time I have a writing implement on hand and some paper. My family will tell you - I have been known to decorate napkins with burnt matches before.

The thing is that I tend to draw people, with some animals and other things occasionally thrown in. So while these are decent people drawn off of the top of my head, if you asked me to draw, say a car without something to copy from, it might look quite a bit strange. I haven't practiced. Yet a boy I know might well be able to pull off a wonderful car, while only drawing a basic person.

It's amazing what can happen when one practices.