anonyrrie: November 2006

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Illustration Friday - Invention

To the Reader: Twilight

Whenever I look
out at the snowy
mountains at this hour
and speak directly
into the ear of the sky,
it's you I'm thinking of.
You're like the spirits
the children invent
to inhabit the stuffed horse
and the doll.
I don't know who hears me.
I don't know who speaks
when the horse speaks.

Chase Twichell (1950 - )

(acrylic & photoshop)

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Illustration Friday - Thanksgiving

I wasn't going to post anything this week, but driving home late this afternoon, I passed a huge flock of turkeys who were foraging in the undergrowth on either side of the road. I was able to get several quick pictures of these impressive creatures before they ran for cover into the woods. I imagine that if they were to give thanks, it would be for being left to run wild instead of ending up on a platter.

Our Thanksgiving menu (which never includes turkey) will probably be something like this:

~ winter squash soup with fried sage leaves and peppercorn pecorino
~ spring greens with artichoke hearts and greek olives
~ some kind of delicious crusty bread
~ wild mushroom risotto with potatoes
~ fennel and brussels sprouts with toasted walnuts
~ cranberry and orange relish
~ pumpkin pie with vanilla ice cream
~ Mer Soleil California Chardonnay
~ espresso by Jol...yum!

I hope everyone - those who celebrate this holiday and those who don't - has a lovely week. I'm going back into hiding so I can get all my paperwork done and have the long weekend free for painting and such.


Saturday, November 11, 2006

Illustration Friday - Clear

What We Need Is Here

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

Wendell Berry - ( 1934- )

(16" x 20" acrylic on stretched canvas)

Friday, November 03, 2006

Illustration Friday - Smoke


WISHES left on your lips
The mark of their wings.
Regrets fly kites in your eyes.

- Carl Sandburg (1878 - 1967)

(an ancient charcoal and pastel drawing from a high school art class)