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This piece was inspired by the artwork of Mongolian artists that I saw at Art Expo in Las Vegas. The horse is still an integral part of Mongolian culture, and much of the artwork I saw was of horses.

Painting #16 of my Painting A Day project. I've been wanting to paint one of these colorful birds for awhile - I think I have seen one here in Colorado, although this is not its usual territory. The abstracted background suggests an aerial landscape view - another thing I've wanted to paint. I love looking at the landscape designs from the window of an airplane!

Painted Buntings are in decline, most likely because of loss of habitat. They have two distinct breeding populations: one found along the Atlantic Coast from North Carolina south to central Florida; and another that stretches across much of Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, southward into northern Mexico.

In November 2001, Audubon formally requested that the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) assess the status of the Painted Bunting together with the Mexican Government and incorporate the protection of this species into the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). Audubon also urged the USFWS to recommend to Mexico that the Painted Bunting be removed from local trade.

Painted Bunting is identified as an extremely high priority species in Partners in Flight's Bird Conservation Plan for the South Atlantic Coastal Plain. One of the objectives of the plan is to stabilize or reverse population declines for Painted Bunting in the next 20 years. In particular, the plan emphasizes the importance of a stable bunting population on sea islands along the coast of Georgia and South Carolina. In addition, the plan calls for the protection of 100% of the remaining maritime woodland communities in the planning area, along with restoration of maritime shrub-scrub (which is preferred by Painted Bunting) where possible. Painted Bunting is also identified as a high priority species in Partners in Flight's Bird Conservation Plan for the Osage Plains.

This info on Painted Buntings was found at http://audubon2.org/watchlist/viewSpecies.jsp?id=156

Painting # 16 of my Painting a Day Project. This one started out as a bear in tall grasses with poppies, but I decided I wasn't in the mood to paint a bear - I was really just interested in the poppies and grasses. Three wipe outs later, the painting had the abstract feel I was looking for.

I am glad I didn't try to stick with one "subject" for this series - like Kevin MacPherson's project where he painted the pond behind his studio every day for a year. Although I see the merit in that, for my purposes I just want to explore and push limits. Doing this in a "Painting A Day" format, and allowing myself about 2 hours to complete a painting, is teaching me how to lay down color and design fairly quickly - and to make a quick judgment on whether to continue the direction I'm going with the painting or wipe out and start again. It's a heck of a lot easier to decide to wipe out a 4x5" canvas than a 4x5 foot one!

Some of these little guys may end up as studies for larger paintings. But for now, I am just enjoying the challenge and satisfaction of completing each little painting in one painting session.

This painting has been accepted into the 2010 Western Spirit Art Show.

I've been thinking abut painting wolves for a long time, and have always had a great interest in them. I recall a time at a zoo, many, many years ago. I was looking into the wolf enclosure and had the extraordinary experience of locking eyes with a wolf. It wasn't a challenge, but rather an exchange of some deep emotion, a longing - and in some weird way it felt like recognition between us. I remember I broke gaze first, and the wolf slowly turned and walked away. I was left standing alone with a most indescribable sense of sorrow.

Painting #15 of my Painting a Day project. The bison is back! I haven't painted a bison yet in this series - last night it was a duel between Elk and Bison...Bison won! I wasn't sure how I was going to handle the background on this one, but had the idea that I wanted a "halo" around her head, signifying the sacredness of the bison and her importance in our survival as human inhabitants of this planet. This piece will be framed and entered into the Western Spirit miniature Art Show.

Deciding what piece to enter into this show - the non-juried part of a larger, juried show - was difficult. I had another piece picked out, but last night when I finished this one I knew it was the one I wanted to put in. I think it makes a nice companion to Wolf Wisdom, the painting that got into the juried part of the show.

My camera has a hard time picking up nuances in value and tone in the reds - the cadmium red seems to take over. So what you can't see in this photo are all the beautiful variations in color on Bison's coat.

To see all the paintings in this series, click here.

Painting #13 of my Painting a Day project. The other morning I found one of these little creatures in the grain bin in my horse barn. Trying to catch him while wearing thick work gloves was like a three ring circus - or a greased pig contest. I finally got him out of the bin and he scampered off and hid in a pile of hay.A little while later, as I continued my morning chores, I noticed him spying on me from his hiding place in the hay.

One of my - and both my daughter's -  favorite book series when they were growing up were the ones written and illustrated by Beatrix Potter. I loved not only the illustrations, but the story lines. The thought of all the animals on the farm - the geese, ducks, cats, rabbits - and mice - having little dramas and living in little houses like humans has always appealed to me. To say I have a tendency to anthromorphisize animals is probably an understatement. How else can I explain my reluctance to set traps for the little family of mice that live in my barn? Or erradicate the starlings that roost in the walls of my barn, each spring driving me crazy with their raucous behaviour? I expect in both cases, there will come a tipping point when they start to overrun my barn and I'll have to take more drastic measures. But with the help of one somewhat lazy part-time barn cat and an over zealous Jack Russell Terrier, so far we've been able to live in peaceful coexistence.

A little mouse, who's name is Rodney, notices one evening that Farmer Kate has gone and left the lid off the grain bin. And so he gets it into his mind that he will climb up the side of the plastic garbage bin, jump down into the sweet smelling mixture of grains and have himself a little snack. But he eats a bit too much, then he has quite the tummy-ache and a very fat belly so that he can't manage to jump back out. There he waits, trembling with fear has he hears Farmer Kate come close, and she is weilding a very large blue scoop. Imagine both their surprise - and horror! when the lifted scoop contains not just grain, but Rodney, too!

Painting #11 of my Painting A Day project. Based on a photo provided to me by my friend and photographer Bob Willis, this is one of those paintings that seem to paint themselves! (sold as soon as I posted it!)

"We come from the land of the ice and snow, from the Midnight Sun where the hot springs blow...Valhalla, I am coming..." - the Immigrant Song, Led Zeppelin. For some reason that song goes through my head when I look at this painting!

Listen to Immigrant Song.

See all Painting A Day paintings.

"Song of Spring" is painting #10 of my Painting A Day project. Every March I wait in eager anticipation of the first Meadowlark. Although I still see a few during the winter, it isn't until very early spring that the males throw back their heads and sing with joyous abandon.I love that sound - it fills me with a happiness that I can't explain. There is something in that song that says, "the worst is over," and I am washed in a blush of possibility and hope.

Possibility and Hope. There are times when I am painting that the world seems to brim with goodness. As I am applying brushstrokes of color to a white canvas, the magic that allows an image to appear fills me with joy. When a painting is going well, I feel like I am on top of the world. Like the little Meadowlark, I feel like throwing my head back and belting out a song. Indeed, I've been known to crank up the tunes and dance as I paint, letting the goodness of God lift me up.

And then there are the times when things are not going well. Colors are muddy. Brushstrokes are tentative. Painting is uninspired. My heart feels heavy. Possibility and Hope are replaced by Doom and Despair. The music is annoying. I want to throw away my brushes and give up. I feel out of sorts, out of balance and out of sync with the Universe.

But I don't. I've got a few options. I can walk away. Leave the painting on the easel and go for a walk, or do a load of laundry. Anything to distance myself physically and emotionally. When I come back to the easel, it is with fresh eyes and a bit of detachment.

Depending on what I see, I can simply wipe the canvas clean and start over. This can be harder than it seems. For even if a painting is not working, there is usually one thing in it that I'm attached to, one part that I "love." The irony is, it is usually that one thing I "love" that is causing the rest of the painting to suffer.

Or I can see that actually the painting IS working, but that it needs something added to unify the color or composition. Maybe the values are too close and I need to add more darks or lights. Sometimes I can't make that judgment right away and need to put the painting away for awhile and start something new.

While painting the Meadowlark, I started to slip into the Doom and Despair mode. I started out tired, but wanted to get into the studio to paint anyway, to push through the lack of motivation and inspiration. Things were going along pretty well, not great, but not terrible. At some point the struggle started and nothing seemed to be working. Since this was one of my Painting A Day paintings, I decided to call it done and go to bed. I figured the morning would "shed new light" on the problem.

When I got up this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to see the painting on my easel was ok. Maybe not a masterpiece, but certainly not a candidate for the dumpster. And so I'm glad that I walked away and let things sort themselves out overnight.

A little perspective is all that was needed.

Painting # 9 of my Painting A Day series.

I named this latest painting “Lark (‘s) Bunting”, after a woman I’ve become friends with whose name is Lark. I was struck by her name when I met her, thinking I liked her parents for coming up with an unusual and poetic name for their baby girl. Turns out her mother is a big bird lover – and Lark commissioned me to do a Kestrel birth totem painting for her mom before Christmas. But at any rate, since meeting Lark, I’ve had it it the back of my mind to paint a lark bunting.

In researching the Lark Bunting, I discovered it is the state bird of Colorado – and has been since 1931. How could I have not known that?? A member of the sparrow family, it usually has a rather drab brownish-gray coloring – except the males during mating season. They dress up in a black tux with white wing patches in order to impress the ladies.

I painted Lark’s Bunting with a mixture of ultramarine blue, turquoise and a little Radiant Blue (Gamblin). The background is what is starting to feel like my signature – designed with lines that form color blocks, but in a somewhat random, fluid way, influenced by patterns of material from India.In this painting, that design has taken on a decidedly "pop art" feel.

I am happy to finally be painting birds. I’ve had a lifelong fascination with them, but always had trouble drawing them. Some of my earliest memories are of watching my father fill the bird feeder in our backyard every morning. Both he and my mother loved (and still love!) birds. My Dad, the caretaker, always makes sure the bird feeders are kept full, and my Mom, the researcher, searches through her bird books to identify new visitors to their backyard oasis for feathered friends, and shares the results with my Dad.

Growing up, I read voraciously – mostly books about animals. I read the entire series of the Audubon Nature Encyclopedia one summer, devouring the words and savoring the illustrations and photographs. I was always more interested in the illustrations than the photos – they somehow seemed more “real” to me than the photographs, maybe because they were more vibrantly colored and showed clearly the markings and beak shapes.

I owe a debt of gratitude to my parents who instilled in me a compassion for all creatures and a thirst for knowledge.

Painting #8 - this little piece practically painted itself. The challenge was to walk away and not try to make it "perfect." I like the looseness of the brushstrokes and the combination of colors on this one.

Last night I got down into my studio early - after a long, somewhat intense day at work, I was feeling somewhat spent - I didn't think I had the energy to do a painting. That is one of the beauties of the Painting A Day project: I have set a goal for myself, and I figure I can summon up enough  juice to create a small painting.

As I said, this one seemed to paint itself. Maybe because I was so tired, I didn't think too hard or "care" too much. Whatever the reason, I'm pleased with how this turned out.

I’m into day nine of my painting a day project and one of the things that I am learning is to finish a painting in one session. Except for a minor touch-up or embellishment, I am challenging myself to move on to the next painting. I’m hoping this will get me over my tendency to “over-fix” things – and in the process overwork the painting. These little paintings, by their very nature, keep me “honest.” Not to say I haven’t wiped off a whole canvas and started over. This owl painting stated out as a robin!

I don’t know if other artists experience this or not – you are working on a painting, and things aren’t clicking. So you wipe out and begin again, and a whole other concept emerges on the canvas. And this time, everything clicks. I always find that amazing, but I think when I get in to painting, my intuitive/spontaneous side takes over and sometimes doesn’t agree with my rational/planning side.

Even though I said I wasn't going to do it, I couldn't help myself. The lure of starting the New Year with fresh goals was too strong, and so I found myself writing a list of things I'd like to accomplish or work toward this year. I separated my goals into two categories: personal and art. Somehow the act of writing down goals makes them more tangible and "real." And by publishing them here on my blog, I've created a kind of accountability. My goals are public - and that (I hope) will give me added incentive and motivation to stick to them. It'll be interesting to reassess at the end of the year and see where I'm at!

Personal Goals for 2010:

1. Eat more healthy food. Switch to organic and locally grown as much as possible- at least 50%. Cut out refined sugar. This is an on-going goal - I started making changes last year but need to take it to the next level.

2. Exercise more regularly. Again, a goal from last year. I was doing pretty well then got derailed. Back at it!

3. Get rid of stuff that no longer fits my life. I tend to want to hold on to things passed the time they are of any use to me. My mantra this year? Pass It On!

4. Ride my horse more. I love to ride, but making time to ride is difficult.

5. Write in my journal daily.

6. Continue to grow spiritually -

7. Get out in nature more (riding my horse is a perfect way to accomplish this!)



Art Goals:

1. Improve my technique and focus on my style by completing a painting a day - small pieces, no larger than 6x8".  I'd like to think I could keep up the pace for a full year, but realistically I'll start with the goal of a painting a day for 52 days. I started on Sunday, January 4. You can see my progress here. I'll be posting these paintings on Facebook, Daily Painters Abstract Gallery and on this blog. Click here to see the paintings I've completed so far.

2. This year I'd like to complete 10-15 top quality large paintings.

3. Clear older works out of my studio. Look for my studio sale/open house in February!

4. Organize the business aspect of art - this may be one of the most important things I do!

5. Enter six national shows.

6. Research galleries - in preparation for next year's goal!

7. Take at least one workshop.

8. Visit the Denver Art Museum at least twice.

9. Post to my blog at least 3 times a week.

10. Don't forget to enjoy the scenery!

My gut feeling is that this will be a year of big changes for me. I just need to remind myself that change is good and necessary for growth. Letting go of the past frees one to live in the present.

The first time I saw Pepper he was lying in his kennel at the Humane Society, his white left front paw crossed politely over the left. When we came up to say hello, he wagged his tail but didn’t get up, instead looked at us with big brown eyes. Or I should say, looked at our daughter, Sara. She was 12 years old, and we had come to the pound to find a dog for her to train for 4-H competition. We had looked at quite a few prospects, but the electricity that jumped between dog and girl left us no doubt that this little 5 month old sable and white border collie mix  with the "dorsal" ear would be coming home with us.

As it turned out, Pepper was not suited for 4-H competition. Crowds made him nervous, and he did NOT like to be touched by people he didn’t know. But, he was a fast learner, and quickly learned to come, sit, stay, lay down and heel. And he was polite – never rushing past you to get through the door, waiting patiently for his supper.

We don’t know what his life was like before joining our family – we can only assume that somewhere along the line he was mistreated, because he never lost his wariness for men. And we never knew his exact breeding – our best guess was German Shepherd, Border Collie and Heeler. But one thing we do know is he loved his “circle” of family with every fiber in his body. As gentle as he was to us, he did not hesitate to bark and snarl and, if the situation merited it, bite an intruder. Our house and property were safe when Pepper was on guard.

Very serious about his "job" of protecting the family, Pepper also had a very silly side. He would leap in the air, eyes shining, tail wagging each morning and evening as he accompanied me out to the barn. And he loved nothing more than a game of fetch - although in the last year or so, he would mostly let the younger dogs get the ball. He always seemed to look at them with exasperation if they didn't bring the ball directly back to me and drop it in my hand like he did.

When Sara left home a few years ago, Pepper stayed with my husband and I, and he became my constant companion around the house. He especially liked to be with me while I painted in my studio - always managing to lay down right behind me, so that when I'd step back from my easel, I'd step on him.

As he got older, he lost some of his nervousness and let the grandkids pet him. But he never learned to tolerate thunder storms. We always laughed that you could predict that a storm was within 100 miles when Pepper headed for the bathroom to hide - and if the storm was really bad, he'd curl up in the bathtub!

This fall I noticed Pepper was slowing down - it was getting harder for him to make it up the stairs to the house. I would feel bad when I would take multiple trips up and down the stairs to my basement studio - because Pepper could not be convinced that he didn't have to follow me every where I went.

This Christmas we had a full house: my older daughter Shannon, her husband and two children came from Oregon and my younger daughter, Sara, made the trip from Nebraska with her three children. Pepper seemed happy to be in the midst of the happy chaos of five adults, five children (ages 9 months to 9 years) and four dogs. But right after Christmas he stopped eating (not even scrambled eggs and rice interested him) and was vomiting,  and I knew something was very wrong.

A trip to the vet Monday night confirmed my fears - his liver was so enlarged that it was causing his stomach to be squished down. We had to make a decision - but I wanted to bring him home for goodbyes. The vet gave him some fluids and anti-nausea medicine and we went home. That night we all had a chance to pet Pepper and say our goodbyes. We cried and hugged, the kids drew pictures and wrote notes - together we grieved and celebrated Pepper's life. For my grandchildren - four of whom have experienced profound loss in their lives, this was an opportunity to express grief in a circle of support - and to come one step closer to understanding that death is a natural part of life, and that it is ok to cry, ok to feel sad. That together, we make it through. And it was a wonderful lesson in the responsibility we have to our pets to let them go when it is their time.

The next morning, Pepper could hardly get up and seemed to be in pain and nauseous. I carried him down the stairs to the backyard, where he slowly walked around, maybe saying goodbye to his favorite places in the yard. Then it was time. We put him on his bed in the back of the van and drove to the animal hospital. The staff at Chappelle's is wonderful, and they suggested we could put him to sleep in the back of the van. So it was there, covered in a blanket, with his head on my lap, that he passed peacefully into his next life. Pepper left this world with dignity and surrounded by love.

I still see him out by the barn, and feel his nose on my hand as I do my chores. As I stepped back from my painting last night, I almost tripped on his spirit. 

I miss you, Pepper!