Illustration Friday July 19, 2013 Robot Summer Reading

Light summer reading inspired by this week's Illustration Friday challenge word: Robot

This young bot seems to have gone on holiday with self-improvement in mind - to the point of bringing a wrench along. 

For a while, it felt as though everyone were bent on reading about self-improvement... to the extent that I wondered if being seen without such a book might imply I felt myself to be beyond improvement?  Surely not, I hoped.

I remember as children, my mom would somehow direct all four of us us to get teeth brushed, pyjamas on, squabbling put aside for another day - as the summer evening cooled and light dimmed, everything in the room growing soft-edged as the day came to an end in song.  I wonder now if this might have been the one thing my mom could think of that would get us all focused on something other than the adventures (or grievances?) of the day, our thoughts harmonizing with voices, slowly feeling more and more ready for sleep.

One of the songs invited Night herself to come cover the singer with her hands, so that with rest, one would be better tomorrow than today, confident that today one had been better than yesterday.  A simple melodious declaration of intent which seems to fit well with liquid summer evenings deepening now like ripening wine into flavourful memory to be sipped, and enjoyed.  The simple intent felt clear enough, years after, that complicated books didn't seem to offer much that would be more substantial.

I hope to get to a colour version later in the week.  But if not, it's because I took the time instead to sit on the back porch and marvel at the slide of day into evening, intent into memory, and song into starlight.

Surveillance - I.F. June 21, 2013

Inspired by the Illustration Friday challenge word: Surveillance

I had made a note of this weeks I.F. prompt as usual and then forgot all about it in the flurry of end-of-the-week and all that brings with it.

Yesterday I moved my paints from the middle of the house (working on the dining room table while life happens around me is one of my favourite ways to layer the day in to whatever is happening in my drawings) to the studio - where things were brighter.

Foremost in my mind was the idea - to paint how it feels to not quite belong.  Often, feeling an outsider, one ends up observing from a distance.

Gather and share

This image grew out of remembering the feel of meadow grass against bare legs and feet, sun on head and shoulders, birdsong in shadowy thickets, while helping to prepare for summer birthdays up in the country.

Small as I was, I could not bring a cake, or make a sandwich.  I was not helping haul out benches to the hilltop under the spreading maple, not gingerly carrying chiming cups and saucers by the pile nor supporting urns slopping over with hot coffee or tea for the gathered friends and family there to celebrate another year of shared work, laughter and community.

But oh, how I wanted a slice of cake, some home-made squares, and lemonade by the gulp.  So I asked if I could help somehow.  And was sent out to the meadow.  Come back with all the flowers you can carry.  An empty bucket was set in the middle of the round mill stone girt in an iron band that we were going to use as a table outside.  It was mine to fill.

Down the rocky road in bare feet, over two bridges and out of sight, through the creaky gate (close the gate, close the gate!) and into the hot summer strawberry field dappled with quietly chewing cows.

The cows didn't mind me, just flapped an ear, turned an eye to follow where I went, following colour anywhere it appeared.  I have no idea still what they were called, the blooms I gathered, but an armful wasn't enough. I tucked the bundles into my shirt I and only stopped gathering when I could barely grasp its hem over the stems.  White lace in abundance, and yellow bobs of flowers so heavy they bent double in the grass; Prickly tickly fuzzy gray stalks with purple-blue bells catching sunlight, facing up,  bright pink in the bottom of the cup, yellow suns turned up, some turned down, orange wispies on whisper thin stems, the bright boldness of a froth of yellow, and when I dared, with my hand wrapped in my shirt, a bold thistle or two to stand above the crowd.

I knew, as I walked back, peering at the path through the cloud of colour in my arms, that this bundle of colour, this joyful riot I brought would make the whole gathering better.  Happier.  More of a celebration.

And I was pretty sure it was worth at least two pieces of cake.

Illustration Friday May 17, 2013 " Liquid"

Inspired by the Illustration Friday word : "liquid"

I spent some time looking at quotes and drawing as many liquid things as I could bring to mind.  And then when I stopped thinking about it this relaxed feline just appeared. 

Of course.

Illustration Friday May 10 "future"

Inspired by this week's challenge word: Future

I thought immediately back to primary school and the inevitable tradition of planting a bean, watching it hopefully for evidence of change.

These days the sprouts come home in coffee cups, but what I remember is a bean in a glass jar, held in place against the glass by damp paper towel.  It was our job to wet the paper every day, and impatiently check for any change.

The future is not some grand, distant scenario into which we step; it is the seed, the wet paper towel, and it inches toward us with every small action we take to make it grow.

Farewell - Illustration Friday April 26 2013

Farewell, fly far, find sunshine, dance with flowers.

Farewell, empty jar, empty hands, throat tight.

Farewell, changed my mind, too late, too late.

Farewell, bright speck, sun-bright joy.

Farewell.

Flow