Winter’s Got Spring Up It’s Sleeve

This is my first post for a group blog called Paint Party Friday.  It’s a venue for artists to link up and share their works in progress as well as finished work  They also feature an artist interview a week. There’s a wide range of professional and amateur artists and lots of different styles.  I like that it gives me a nice soft deadline for finishing a painting.
Last weekend on my favorite jazz station, KMHD,  I heard the song “Winter’s Got Spring Up It’s Sleeve” by June Christy.  It was the first time I’d ever heard it, though it was recorded in the 60s.  I loved that image and immediately got a picture in my mind of a winsome winter spirit in a blue robe with warm sleeves spilling flowers — the heat from the flowers blowing winter’s robe skyward — a circle of life sort of thing.
On this piece I tried using masking, salt dispersion and layering color. I tried to combine loose color and detail.  I glazed Winter’s skin with iridescent acrylic and splattered the same paint for more snow flakes.  I’m not sure it was entirely successful, but dear husband and a few friends gave me good feedback, so here it is:

Winter’s Got Spring Up It’s Sleeve * watercolor, acrylic & ink * 7×10″

Review: Little White Duck


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Back in the late 1980s, produced a radio program called Reading Aloud Here, for Memphis Community Radio. I got a chance to do an interview with the Chilean-born writer Ariel Dorfman.  He predicted that the comic book would be the most popular form of literature in the future.  It combined language and images so that people with limited reading skills could still enter the world of books.
Although he liked the idea, it seemed a grim prediction because my hope was that people would become more literate not less.  But I had to admit, I really enjoyed the cartoon histories that Larry Gonick created.  Now, some 30 years later, with the explosion of graphic novels and illustrated books, I am delighted that the language of pictures is becoming a part of literature.  After all, the first books were illustrated and illuminated. 
Of course, we can all make pictures with our minds and sometimes that’s the most sublime way of enjoying a story.  But I love art, especially narrative art and illustration. I’ve long thought some of our best contemporary artists are working in the field of children’s illustrated books.  I am delighted that the world of illustrated books is expanding into more mature stories. 
Which brings me to the exquisite Little White Duck: A Childhood in China by Na Liu and AndresVera Martinez, published in 2012 by Graphic Universe, a division of Lerner Publishing Group.  This is a wonderful book for older children and readers of all ages.   It’s a series of stories about the author’s childhood growing up with her sister in Wuhan, China in the 70s.  The first story pulls you in with a dream sequence of Da Qin – Big Piano, and Xiao Qin – Little Piano, flying a giant golden crane over the muted city rooftops. 
Na invites you in with a friendly “Ni Hao!” and explains why she is called Big Piano.  “Children are hardly ever called by their real names.  All children are given nicknames…because it was thought that bad luck and spirits couldn’t find you if your true name was never spoken out loud.  Everyone calls me Qin.”
Though the stories are set during a time of turmoil for China, the child’s eye perspective keeps it from being maudlin or severe.  The girls are loved by their parents, they want to be heroes, they want to have adventures, and they have lots of lessons to learn.  Their sweetness shines through the beautiful muted watercolor and ink illustrations of Martinez. 
Although the children seem to be “poor” – with outdoor plumbing, modest homes and very basic furniture, we come to understand through the stories how the family is rich – not only in the love that they share but in contrast to the peasant life of their parents.
“Don’t Waste Your Food – Children are Starving in China,” tells the parents’ tales over the dinner table as the girls are reprimanded for not finishing their rice.  The children starving in China are not remote foreigners, they are beloved relatives.  The fragile relationship between modern China and peasant China is again beautifully told in the final story of the “Little White Duck.”  Da Qin has a fine warm jacket with a beautiful white duck appliqued on it.  On a trip to her father’s village she comes to understand how much of a luxury it is. 
Na Liu’s short biography in the back of the book tells what it was like growing up in Wuhan in the 70s as China slowly began to open up to the world.  “My parents grew up during a time when Chinese leaders wanted to put an end to old traditions and replace them with a nation where all people are treated equally.  My parents benefited from the changes that took place.  My sister and I are from a newer generation…under the surface, my childhood stories reveal the drastic shift from how my parents grew up to how children of China live today.”  Her storytelling is engaging and spare.  It works seamlessly with the illustrations.
This is a “new world” sort of book in many ways.  The graphic novel format sets it apart, as well as the weaving together of history and personal story.  It’s also a collaboration between the author and her husband.   Na Liu is a doctor of hematology and oncology.  She moved to Austin, Texas, in 1999, to work as a research scientist for MD Anderson Cancer Center.  In Austin, she met and married the illustrator Andres Vera Martin.  He was raised in Austin and has created comics and illustration for Scholastic, Simon & Schuster, CBS/Showtime, and the New York Times.  The couple lives in Brooklyn, with their daughter, who inspired them to write this book.
“My husband, Andres, says he loves to hear stories about my childhood…’It’s stuff I can’t learn in books.’”  They talk about their process in an interview at the School LibraryJournal website, “Whenever he talks to someone, he wants to know all about them. He was curious about my family stories. I don’t think many children know what was going on in China at that time—it wasn’t an open society.”
Martinez’s palette for this book is muted and subtle with moments of brightness.  I particularly love the way gray skies sometime glow with the hint of sunlight.  The girls are drawn with big expressive eyes and round faces. They exude energy.  In the “Four Pests” and “Lei Feng Day”stories there are wonderful reproductions of Chinese educational posters.  Grim pictures of famine, peasant life, sparrow and rat hunting, are elevated by the detail and comforting use of color.  The details of everyday life pull you right into the story.  The panels lead readers into strange circumstances then back to the tender relationship between the girls, their parents, and their dreams.
We get so much of our information on other cultures through news of conflict.  Our understanding of other governments is often skewed to our own sense of how life “should” be.  This is a clear window into a culture that seems so different from our own.  The universal themes of love, and of family, resonate subtly through the work like a dream, like the viewpoint of a golden crane where perspective isn’t limited by borders. 
 

Frosty Beauties

I went for a walk a few days ago and found a few Swiss chard plants in a front yard garden.  The stalks had the most vivid colors but I didn’t have my camera.  Since then it’s been quite cold and frosty at night.  When I went for a walk today, I remembered the camera and found that the weather had made the stalks droop into lovely flower like shapes.

Here’s a few shots of them.

This one is growing from a collapsed stem

Nature love abstract foms

It was an amazing day for glistening natural plant forms  The sun was just coming out and melting the frost and ice from last night.

Frost on the spider web on the porch in the frozen fog of morning

 

Spiders like to ride my husband’s bike

Across the street from Columbia park buds are swelling amid the frost and lichen

Small icy chandelier 

Ice Forest

And I always love to photograph dramatic old tree trunks:

I look at these everyday natural beauties and want to draw them all, but I never have time.  Instead I collect many, many, many reference photos. I love the digital technology that allows me to keep up this habit.  It trains my eye, so when I do get time to draw, my mind is ready.  On days when I’m too tired to walk, the pictures are here to give me that window into nature that is so restorative, no matter what the internal or external weather.  The next best thing is to share them. 

Look around in wonder whenever you can.

Three Little Birds – Journal Pages

I got some encouragement from friends to post the following pages from my most recent journal.  They sort of map some moods and also different ways of using a journal.

This was done in pencil, which is why it’s a little hard to reproduce.
“Wanted to draw something hard and sensuous to honor those parts of me that have hardened because of grief and loss.  I imagined traveling to a cemetery or city park — but I can’t get around.  No car, limited mobility and many other things to do.  I settled for this white clay swan of Jim’s.  It’s heavy and hard.  The wings are impressed with feather markings and tiny impressions cover the feathered body.  The drawing makes it look grey but it’s white w/an orange beak, black marking and brown glassy eye.  One chip on the wing tip.
Later, Jim, my husband, told me this an icon swan, one he bought for his late wife Kathleen, as a symbol of someone able “to extract pure essence fro the adulterated mixture.”  The swan is pure beauty although it feeds on dubious food.  He got that image from Thomas Merton.  Kathleen, a family mediator in divorce cases, was able to help really dysfunctional families see the essence of families — the kids, the love, the actions that will have effect 50 years from now.  
So I didn’t have to leave home to find what I’d wanted to find in cemetery — a hard graceful image of the beauty of loss.”

If you are subject to depression, you know that those first days after the depression lifts, you  come up with the most fantastic ideas about what you can achieve. I’ve learned to write them down instead of actually pursuing them:

Post Depression Flights of Fancy:
I decided if I ever got pet it should be a big multi-colored parrot.  Then I want to teach it to sing one of my favorite soul songs — maybe ‘It’s Alright’ or ‘Always and Forever.’
    I saw posters for readings and performances at the library and actually started to sign up or start making plans to go them  (but didn’t)
    Also, I figure when I sell my book (as yet unwritten), I’ll buy the house across the street and have a studio there.  Maybe I’ll train the parrot to bark like a guard dog.”

By the time I finished drawing the parrot I figure I could train the parrot to sing my top ten favorite soul songs.  Then I watched the Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill and decided  I couldn’t cage a parrot — unless it was disabled — hmmm.

This last entry was from a relatively normal day mood wise.  I got the newsletter from the Women’s Caucus for Art and it had a wonderful photograph of an Indian girl in dance regalia, so I pasted in my journal.  Unfortunately, I forgot to write down the name of the photographer, so if anyone out there knows, let me know.  I did a quick painting with ink gouache and watercolor pencils.  I loved the festive color and melancholy expression — and how much she looked like a bird that needs to fly away soon.

Here is my year 2012 in journals:

Eight 9×12″ journals, and 7 portable Moleskines.  I learned a lot about myself, writing and drawing. Did I produce anything of merit?  Only time will tell.  But the time spent on them helped me fly steadily through the year.