early birds

The rain had blackbirds hunting earthworms trying to escape the soggy soil and brought the proverb, "Early bird gets the worm", to mind. Followed quickly by "opening a can of worms".
The blackbirds have quite an ominous stalking stride and their graphic yellow eyes with black centers give them a very evil look as they poke around the lawn in search of worms. Like some avian opera without singing. Equally incomprehensible story line.
Possibly the best word to explain the feeling is ominous.
Either that or I would have to say they remind me of Hoarknockle skulking around the corridors with a hangover.
These are all going into boxes I have drawn. Lots of textural patina and atmospheric marks.
Lady Sandra has been baking peasant bread. There is a certain irony in this. The house smells delicious. I need to investigate.

just a house

just a house this time. A house from the past where memories were made.
No afterburners or the smell of jet fuel.
Its for a friend who will give it as a gift to the person who lived there for a long time. I wanted it to have a feel of something well worn and well known. There are a few birds and a squirrel near the tree. There is an old push lawnmower rusting quietly.
Nothing grandiose. A peaceful drawing.
I should ease up on the relaxing herbal tea and have an espresso. Maybe give Hoarknockle a whipping.

roaring afterburners

I am still shaking the noise out of my ears. I had the good fortune to be next to the runway at the Maple Flag exercise when a whole lot of machines leapt off the ground. Miraculous I tell you! This new flying machine invention will change things a lot.
I don't get out of my studio enough, that is evident.
It was quite a thing to watch F16 and F18 planes rocket off the runway of Cold Lake air base. The sheer intensity of the subsonic shock is exhilarating. Lady Sandra was on hand to hold my camera bag (occasionaly) and also to snap some photos with another camera. She was also one of three ladies there and drew enough attention to cause a pilot to wave at her while he was taking off! She is the type of beauty who would have been painted onto war planes as a pinup girl. She has decided that her life wont be perfect until she buys and flies her very own F18 Hornet. Seems I will need to sell a few paintings.
There were quite a few planes from distant lands as well as their crews. Interesting to see and experience. Apart from the jets, there were also some transport Hercules and Transalls from Germany, France and New Zealand.
I have been at work on a digital piece that shows most of the planes I saw on the day. Its a collage of sorts
with a drawing as main image.
I have yet to devise a way to show the roar of the engines. Meanwhile Hoarknockle has been tasked to make jet noises in the background to inspire me. (Just between us...he isnt really succeeding)
"Hoarknockle!"

reflections

there is a lot of staring and pondering at times...and its not the kind of thing people should see. I mean.... its just the kind of thing that brings people to believe that artists stand around, doing nothing.
In spite of the problem, I do stand and squint at the work a lot...its my method.
This is the current state of the Snowbird painting.
To me, the reflection on the shiny skin of the plane is so seductive and the challenge of making a flat piece of canvas look like shiny metal is just too good to pass by.
The work is something of an abstract because its not immediately recognisable as a plane.It is a collection of colour planes (no not the aero-plane kind... this sounds too pun-like and not intended). Then hopefully it will lure the viewer in to look and see or be beguiled by the illusion of volume and reflection. In a perfect world it would.
Hoarknockle has been hard to work with...his simple mind sees nothing of this and his opinion has been of no use to me. He keeps asking when I am going to paint a nude. Suggesting that we call on Mr Gorefinch's niece to model. I see a pattern developing here. Fortunately for us both, Hoarknockle still possesses the ability to make tea and relieve my thirst with suitable libations.
This work is almost done... some last touches here and there after some intense staring.
Imagine a small plastic trumpet fanfare accompanying my announcement.
toot!

jet in abstract

My head is still ringing with jet sounds after going out to the local air force base to see the national display team, the Snowbirds, fly their official first display of the season.
They were great. I snapped hundreds of pictures. So far so good. I want to use the images for artworks.
I am currently working on a large painting, canvas stretched onto an old door. Normal size person door, not a Hollywood size portal.
I have taken an image from a photo and reduced it to something closer to abstraction than a pretty rendition of an aeroplane.A Snowbird display plane. It doest have any recognisable wings or engine...or pilot for that matter. What I am hoping to do it paint the sexy reflections on the highly polished paintwork and use the actual colours of the surfaces to take it to the edge of abstraction.
It involves some large scale brushwork and some fiddly smaller stuff...a good mix to prevent me from getting bored.

caught in trap

The child portraits have been delivered. The parents like it. Nothing like painting a child portrait to bring out the utterly defenseless, insecure artist in erm...uh...Hoarknockle...yes..thats it...Hoarknockle! He was just so worried about the children looking perfectly as they should... I had to give him the afternoon off.
The idea of seeing children's faces on milk cartons is something distinctly unnerving. The thought that each photo is actually a person who is missing. Its so pathetic and desperate... the kind of situation one never believes yourself will ever have to face. It brings all kinds of horrors to mind. Lots of "what if?" questions.
When you read of dreadful persons keeping others captive in a dungeon or a cage... always makes me wonder about who might be in a situation like that right at this moment... one day we may see the story in a paper and try to recall what you were doing at that moment...and how horrid it must have been for the victim while we continued obliviously with our lives.
Milk cartons are so democratic. The lowest common denominator which we all seem to have in our homes. The milk carton is a symbol of the common place and the ordinary.
What if the concept was changed and what if...?
The longer I worked on this, the more creepy and disconcerting the wire cages around the corks became. The twisted, torqued wire suddenly had a whole new voice.
No wonder I had to give Hoarknockle the day off.
Now I'll have to go and mow the lawn myself. I often don't think things through so well.

wrestling with children

I do believe this one is done.
I am always ever so careful when I wrestle with young children. They are delicate and one has to use small brushes and a lot of glaze to achieve a good likeness.
I know there are some portrait painters who achieve the finish by using bold and powerful marks...but I really cant do it. I find the faces of children to be composed of most delicate shading and shape. I admire those who can capture it in fresh quick strokes... but since this is my style and my work.... "Aah, tea, why thank you Hoarknockle!"
All this one requires is a last coat of preserving varnish.
I wanted this painting to reflect the personalities of the children and to give some idea of who they are and what they do.
Its been a demanding time, and I'm happy with the results.
Now on to some digital drawing.