Mixed Media Artist

crows

The Usual Wear And Tear

The-Usual-Wear-And-Tear

This is a 6″x8.5″ mixed media painting on paper.

When I was painting this one, this expression was circling my head. I guess I was still thinking about being a single woman during the turn of the century and the possibility of marrying being a pretty slim prospect after a certain age.
Just to think about how great I am now in comparison to how great I wasn’t in my twenties make me think that men, even in this day, are kind of dumb. (Not my husband of course, he is brilliant).
Available here


Connie Crow (Tentative Start)


12″x16″ mixed media painting on clay board
$300 + shipping.
To purchase click HERE
Connie Crow was one of the Crow sisters. I can’t remember the the name of the other two sisters.

OK, I am fairly sure that Connie Crow did not look like this. Actually I am 100% sure that she didn’t but I hey, that is what they call artistic license. I am a card carrying member and not only is the membership free, there is no expiry date on the card.

That aside, I was thinking about the Crow sisters and how they never married and why that was. All three of them. I guess it is not so strange but I can’t help it and I know it sounds so needy and not very modern but whenever I meet an old woman that never married I wonder why. Choice? Fate? Tragedy? It is not such a strange thing now a days but back in the turn of the 18th century and into the early to mid 1900’s it was pretty much expected that you are going to marry. So many didn’t however. If they had wanted to and never found a companion, or (as I know was the case for many) were obligated to stay and look after their siblings or relatives because the Mother had died, it is so sad. If they were not going to put up with any MAN telling them how to live their life , then GREAT on them. I am just CURIOUS as to why.

When I was growing up in the Guesthouse, before my parents converted it into a B&B, there were many people that had lived there for decades. They were all single, and before you get any wild ideas, really old. Not all of them never married, some were widows/ers or divorcees (this I am only assuming, as it was not something that people spoke freely of back then, especially in front of a seven year old). Perhaps this is where my curiosity stems from. I wanted to know these people’s stories but as a child could never ask. Now the answers are gone forever.

Miss. Gregg and Miss. Roberts were two women that lived in the Guesthouse that never married.

Miss Gregg was a retired grade one school teacher that was so wonderfully kind to me. She wore her soft white hair in a bun, was completely bent over ( and I mean completely), was in her nineties and had elephantiasis. None of these things stopped her from climbing the two flights of stairs to her room at the top of the house at least three times a day. Unlike many of the tourist that would stay in her room years later, she never complained. Not about the stairs and certainly not about the size of her room. She lived in that room for decades and it was crammed with trunks ,books and in my mind as a child, mystery and treasure. She was so good with children it always made me sad that she never had any of her own.

She used to say great things like ‘many hands make light work’ as we would set the tables together, she would pinch her cheeks ‘just to add a little colour’ and her drink of choice was teoffee, a blend of coffee and tea. (Nobody is perfect).

Miss Roberts was the pampered daughter of a Sea Captain. She couldn’t have been more different than Miss Greg. Miss Greg was a lady in every way. Estelle, was not. She was kind of lazy and loved to lounge in her room looking at ‘movie magazines’ and eating chocolates. She wasn’t really interested in me, I am not sure I really existed in her world which was fine with me as I found her slightly frightening. Perhaps here is where I should mention that she looked rather a lot like the sea hag from Popeye when she didn’t wear her teeth, which was most of the time as she lost them or forgot them often. Most frequently she would take them out at the dinner table,wrapping them up in her napkin, I am guessing as an attempt to not offend her dinner companions and then, placing her napkin in her lap she would promptly forget where she put them. When she would get up at the end of her meal she would either leave them behind in her napkin which would mean routing around in the garbage a few hours later looking for her teeth or her napkin would fall on the ground and out her teeth would roll onto the dining room floor for everyone to see. So much for not offending her dinner companions.

Miss Greg had no time for her and would angrily shake her head and say “Oh! Estelle!” as if she was talking to one of her six year old students. Miss Roberts didn’t give one care. She may have had ripped stockings and a slip that hung haphazardly down below her skirt but she did have spunk.
What was she like when she was young? One can only wonder. I don’t know why she never married. She couldn’t have always looked like the Sea Hag ( hey funny that her dad was a Sea Captain!) or like my mother would say had a face like the map of Girbaltar. You really have never seen so many wrinkles but on another note, have you ever heard this expression? I just made myself laugh out loud typing it.
My Irish mother has the craziest expressions that she always qualifies first by saying ‘ as my mother would say’. I guess I just did that as well, so I guess I am keeping that alive.
But some of these expressions are not very PC and may be better off forgotten. Sometimes I don’t even know what they mean before they come out of my mouth.
Once I said ‘I almost split my kipper’ to a boyfriend’s mother because I had almost slipped and fallen down. Now, this wasn’t one of my mother’s expressions but she had told me numerous times about her friend who when after saving herself from a slip had exclaimed this. I just never put two and two together, not until the words were being formed and leaving my mouth and heading directly toward my boyfriend’s mother’s ears. It was like a light bulb went on and it was suddenly crystal clear exactly what that expression meant and why my mother had retold it so many times. She didn’t think it was funny, what she thought was it was in unbelievably bad taste. It was too late. It was out there. Now I will be the one that will be thought of as having unbelievably bad taste because as bad as it was coming out of my mouth, I at least hadn’t qualified it with; ‘as my mother would say’.


First Frost

First Frost
10″x10″ mixed media painting on canvas.

This one is rather fitting as I stand looking out my studio window. My studio is in the loft of our three story home and as I look out I can see all the tops of the surrounding white roofs. It is, unfortunately , not the first frost, not by a long shot, but maybe it would be on the west coast.

This piece has small pearl mica flakes painted into it. I am not sure if the picture shows them very well. But for all you magpies out there, it really sparkles.


Three Sisters

OK, so there were three crow sisters, not two. One died a few years before the other two.

I was thinking about this while I was painting today. I was thinking about how close those three sisters were. Living together all those years. Sharing their lives for over eight decades. What must it have been like to watch your sister go. What must it have been like to be the last one left? Sometimes life is so sad that I can’t even bare it.

I was also thinking about crows and how they share their life with one partner. Birds are often like this, aren’t they? monogamous. Maybe it is my Catholic up bringing but when ever I hear about animals that are monogamous I feel even more of an affinity to them. Kind of silly, I guess.

Crows will also do this very strange kind of memorial service for a crow that has been killed. They will all gather for a moment of silence and then disperse. Without a sound.

I am sure you have seen a crow standing at the side of the road looking down at his dead kin. I have even seen them prod them gently with his beak as if to try to get them to move. I have always been touched by this seen. There was no doubt in my mind that I was witnessing immense grief in this animal.

This new painting is about all of these things. Companionship. Grief. Ghosts. It is in progress.
We are are here, and then we are gone.
Sorry for being so morbid today. I don’t mean to be a downer.
Three Sisters


I Could Talk To You …

16″x16″ mixed media painting in canvas.
no name crow
photo
16″x16″ mixed media painting in canvas.

Getting close to finishing this one. I watched this amazing ‘Nature Of Things’ on crows the other night. Wonderful timing for me, hey? Don’t things just work like that sometimes? When stuff like that happens, I always think that I must be on the right path.

It is like for the first time ever I heard the term netflix. Someone on facebook just wrote about it, then tonight it came up in the book I am reading (Julie and Julia). I am not sure what that means. I should move to the US or rent a movie or just keep reading the book but I though it was pretty neat.

Back to the crows.

I remember when I was little my dad told me that if you split a crow’s tongue that you can teach them to talk. On looking this up I find that it is actually not necessary to do this and that if you hand raise a crow from young, you can teach them how to talk just like you would a parrot. More info on this can be found in this amazing book


The Roots of Wallpaper and Patterns

Crow And Art Deco Wallpaper
Crow With Art Deco Wallpaper
6″x24″
mixed media on clayboard (sides are painted red)

I have written before about my love of wallpaper. I think that it stems from the 17 room B & B hotel that my parents run in Victoria.

I was seven when we first moved into what we call the Guesthouse. There were many rooms in this three story 1913 Arts and Crafts house and most were wallpapered. My dad refreshed many of these rooms with new wallpaper (remember, this was the seventies so wallpaper was very popular). There were different textures, patterns and colours, all of which I was fascinated by.

The front hallway of the guest house has an amazing floral print with black background. It reminds me very much of the Art deco wallpaper I have painted in the above piece.

Once again, I can not help but return to the ghosts of my past. The stuff that fills our senses at such a young age, that stuff sticks with us and forms who we are with out our even realizing. The problem for me now is that I realize that and every time something happens to Imogen or Scarlett I think “How is that going to shape them? What will that do them as a forty year old woman? What will they be remembering?”

Wallpaper, back to the wall paper.

My dad wallpapered my entire room in baroque pink. It was an attic room so he even did the ceiling!
He was/is good at wallpaper. He taught me how. One winter we wallpapered all the bathrooms in the guesthouse in various stripes. It was fun and I got pretty good at it. Another time we wallpapered the ceiling of the front room with embossed wallpaper; NOT so fun.

I remember, on a trip to Orcas Island when I was around twelve, lying on my bed at The Outlook Inn, drawing the wallpaper. It was raining so hard that we had to stay in. I think that it rained all that weekend but I did have a full colour representation of our hotel room’s wallpaper by the end of it.

It is funny because I am not much for prints or patterns on my clothing. I like solids.
In my paintings, however, I love patterns. People will tell me it reminds them of Matisse. And as much as I love Matisse, and I do, it is my mother who has blessed me with my fascination of prints. Her style can only be described as eclectic. She manages to put together a hundred different prints in one room and make it looks fabulous. She loves it, so it goes. It is as pure as that. No swatches to match this with that at the fabric store. She decorates with her heart and her rooms reflect that. They are as comfortable and warm as being wrapped up in her arms, pressed so close to her bosom that you can hear her heart beat.


Collage Crow

Collage-Crow
7″x9.5″Mixed media painting on paper
This little guy has parts another painting (that wasn’t working as a whole but that I just loved parts of) collaged into it.

I might do this again. I quite like the results.


The Little Red Crow

The-Little-Red-Crow
3″x5″ mixed media on canvas


Harvest Crow

Harvest-Crow
11″x14″ mixed media painting on canvas.