Tucson Artist's Open Studio---Lovely Spring Day

Thanks guys! I felt your support and presence throughout the weekend. And, when I grew tired, I'd take a moment to remember your comments, your fantastic artwork and I was energized. I felt part of a solid community. An extra bonus: We even have snow lingering on the mountains! There was a good turn out and I was surprised. Tucson is really busy with art gallery openings, book festivals, sports events and a plethora of other fun things to do before it gets gawd-awful hot around here. So, it was great to see so many enthusiastic art tourists visit my studio, carefully and thoughtfully considering the work. We met some interesting, intelligent and artsy folk. I hope they'll come back again.

  Here are some photos of the day. Again, I didn't want to blow anyone's cover (Sometimes I think a lot of Tucsonans are in the witness protection program and don't want to be photographed.) Just kidding. I don't even ask visitors because I feel it would be intrusive. Maybe I can talk the next group into allowing me to photograph their backs as they look at the paintings!

Hope you all had a good weekend full of paint, good friends and family.

Tucson Artists' Open Studios Tour--Let the Visits Begin

The news around town is that there is a real "buzz" as the Tucson Artists' Open Studios Tour gears up for this Saturday and Sunday from 11 AM until 5 PM. I think that it's the increase in the collective heart rate of all the artists who are participating this weekend. Dear artist bloggers: I sense your kind support, knowing that you will be here in spirit. Wouldn't it be great if we could have a group show?! I would love that. Let's dream together on this and see what comes. I'm pretty excited about all of this because next week my college boy is coming home and he's having a birthday, too. So, I've got a mailart to share and a quick sketch I made from a screen capture as we webcam'd recently.

  This mailart piece is a bit out of character (more sculptural, really). But, here's why. This Plexiglass, paper with grommet and 'o' rings enshrine a story I made up one day while Ell and I were resting after I had set up camp in the forest. Ell was six years old. I was old. So, I told him we had to rest in the tent until Daddy got there from work. I began to stare at the clouds as they rolled by over our tent. They seemed to be speaking. I told him the story of Little Proud Thundercloud (M. S. Esparza ©). It stuck as a family story and now it is in plexiglass. Of course, at the time we didn't know anything about Iceland, but I think that painting the cloud to resemble the country pleased my world traveler today. It's approximately 8" x 4," plexi over paper, with tarp grommet, washers and 'o' rings and glue. And to all my visitors from far, far away (Australia, Brazil, Canada, France, Germany, Greece, Hungary, Iceland, India, Ireland, Italy, Indonesia, Japan, Malaysia, Mexico, Moldova, Netherlands, Norway, Philippines, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Scotland, Slovenia, South Korea, Spain, Switzerland, Turkey, United Kingdom)--- Peace to you all and thank you for visiting. I am honored when you visit. I hope you'll always feel welcomed here. I hope you'll feel comfortable to comment any time you want to. In my dreams you all are here and we are laughing, sharing green tea, and talking about life, art, good things to make a better world. I'll try to take photos to share next week. Everyone, stay well, don't give up.

Tucson Artists' Open Studios Tour

Sunset Ridgeline, 2010. 8x8 Oil on linen panel. Sold

The Tucson Artists Open Studios Tour is just a mere and frantic eight days away. There are two beautiful, gorgeous, exquisitely constructed canvases built by Deadwood Framing that invite me to paint large. They will have to wait until next week. But, until then... I've got this 8" x 8," oil on artists' board, abstracted painting for today that is a bit of an extension of the kinds of landscapes I've been painting lately. Until the next post, I hope you are living well, painting often, dreaming and walking with all beauty and excellence! I also wish all of you could stop by for some mesquite flour chocolate chip cookies and decaf green tea with prickly pear syrup and a nice chat. Some funnies (to offset the seriousness of the last post): Math joke Signs you are an artist: #14. "You chose to buy that new Russian Sable Number Six Round instead of a Big Mac, a Large Fry, a Milkshake, Dessert, and five gallons of gas." #17. "When viewing a sunset, you think in terms of cadmium yellow (light hue), salmon and gold, a tinted teal mixed with gold for the water...." #26. "You explain your deplorably bad housekeeping by saying, "It's a work-in-progress..." And, one from me--True Story: Instead of fixing our leaky roof years ago, we bought an Ettan Press and set mixing bowls out to catch the rain.

Paint, Painter, Painted--Art, Artist, Alive

When you are sad, paint.

When you are happy, paint.

When you need a calm and quiet place, paint.

When you are sick, draw.

Do these things even when you are somewhere in between. If you're not an artist, buy art and meditate on why it is so utterly healing for the moment of your gaze.

And, when the storm passes, smile that there is another day.

I'm sensing that we are all storm watchers, sky watchers, observers of the times and environment. It's just primal, isn't it? Things are still very, very tough here in Arizona (but, do you really have any idea?), and I imagine they are tough all over. Reminds me of an old poem, Dover Beach, by Matthew Arnold. But, being a bit quirky, my mind always goes next to Anthony Hecht's version and I laugh every time I read it.

Only one storm has passed, but there are others on the line. I'll try to paint them and you do the same because things are bad all over for someone.

This oil painting is: After the Storm (8" x 8," on artists' board).

Painting Mirrors the Hopeful Heart While the World Climbs into a Basket--Melinda 2010

Arizona Painting Brings Rain to Tucson

Are we artists shamans, priestesses, seers? I started a painting a few days ago inspired by the clouds that were slowly coming and going across this immense Arizona sky. I was thinking about how clouds look different in different regions and remembered that Ell has already done some interesting research on this. At about 2:27, there is his observation about Arizona clouds versus Icelandic clouds. Yes, ours seem pretty cool, languishing for awhile, then moving on. They also have curled whisps that I've only seen here and in western New Mexico.



My approach was to paint from my reaction to the one huge cloud that hung over my street yesterday. I spent quite some time smearing and slap dashing on the panel. This morning the winds picked up and the rain descended like a response to paint, a dream of water to quench a thirst for connection.

Please don't wake me from this vivid dream...

This is Ah-Ree-Zoe-Nah Ski (Arizona Cloud, 8" x 8," oil on artists' board).

Just for fun, here is a photo of the animals enjoying the special day and a view of the rain from our living room. It's been a lot of fun seeing other artists' pets and environment.

Tucson Artists' Open Studios Coming Up

It's only four weeks away until the Tucson Artists' Open Studios event, and the buzz of preparation quietly, yet doggedly, begins. This artist is now completely plugged in: blog, website and Facebook. This is unsettling--in so many ways. In the last week, I've been able to touch up a few paintings, paint the sides of others, set up my print rack and go through some of my favorite prints. Mr. Artyfice was kind enough to stabilize one work table. There's more to do. Yesterday I finished reading Seven Days in the Art World, by Sarah Thornton. I recommend it. For many of you, it won't be shocking, but there are lots of insider goings-on of which we lowly artists are ignorant. Tucson seems to be light years away from it all. But, good art and devoted artists are still here in the Old Pueblo making marks. 

Last August, I posted a painting called Almost Los Alamos (30" x 30," oil on canvas) that really started to bother me. I sought advice from Kathryn and Jana, and went back into it. I think this is much better now. My thanks to them both! It might be that I'm wishing I were in Los Alamos today having a chat with my cousin about Little Boy and Fat Man, and how well Oppenheimer played the dead guy in the community theater melodrama years ago. Right now, it seems like it would be a lot less stressful...

Sabino Canyon House and Sky

Cold in the desert. Cold in the West. Cold in the East. Cold in the Middle. Let's all get together and knit an Icelandic sweater for the entire country, eh? I hear that there is another storm racing up to New England. My portion of the sweater will be cobalt blue and cadmium yellow medium. What are your colors?

This painting is one from last week. This is 36" x 36," oil on canvas. It has a little sister, which I'll post some other time. I'm getting ready for the next Tucson Artists' Open Studios coming up March 13th and 14th. Yikes. February is a short month. And, there is a storm heading our way in the desert too.

Don't you just love winter?!

"I wanted things that I couldn't at times articulate."
--Helen Frankenthaler

Grand Canyon, Small Scale

Not to belabor the concept, but here is an 8" x 8" oil on panel of one famous peak in the Grand Canyon called, Isis Temple, that I painted last week. I wanted to paint a more contemporary iteration of the view. The photo from which I'm working was taken at the rim, next to the Bright Angel Trail.

Today is a glorious Tucson day, full of sunlight, warmth, and cool, gentle breezes. The Gem show is kicking off and the mood of the Old Pueblo is sound. We are also looking forward to...hang on to your barometers...more...rain. Our water barrels are full, but we'll take more! The desert really needs it.

I've also included a photo of a very strange, non-native succulent that blooms in our front yard this time of year. Does anyone know the name of it? Hint: It is native to Madagascar. I use to call Madagascar, antimacassar (bonus question: Does anyone know what an antimacassar is? If so, you. are. old. very old) Answer at end of post...


What's it like where you are today?
Be careful with your monitor as you flip it to read the following answer: ɐuɐıʇuoɯǝɹbıɐp ǝoɥɔuɐ1ɐʞ

Answer to bonus question: antimacassar
sold

Ten Thousand Hours, Ten Thousand Steps

Okay, okay. I'm taking a break from the Grand Canyon painting and posting a different one that I made a few weeks ago while taking another break from the monster. It began as a plein air painting and then was finished in studio.

This little painting, 8" x 8"(oil on cradled panel), is of the ridge line of the Catalina mountains just north of Tucson. I'm glad to say that Catalina State Park is one that will remain open this year. There are approximately twelve others which will be closing. It is a tough time in old Arizona. However, next Saturday the radio show, Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keillor will be broadcasting live from Tucson. He promises to mention Tucson a lot and will probably tell some funny stories about the town. Maybe you will have time to live stream the show. We'll get to hear it at around 4 PM Tucson time.

Malcom Gladwell claims that it takes 10,000 hours of practice (among other things) to become really good at something and to be successful. And, we all know that 10, 000 steps each day can keep us healthy.

Repeating: 10,000...

My pedometer often says approximately 8700-9000 steps. Some days less. Hmm, but I'm sure I must be close to that hours thing. Wishing you many happy hours in front of the canvas! And, for inspiration to get moving, here's SamArtDog's link to a Love Project. Enjoy!

Grand Canyon Foreground Gesture

Here's another snapshot of a portion of the Grand Canyon painting that I'm still working on. I know, I know. It appears that I've not finished this yet, and that I'm rationing out photos of this monster. However, I do hope that seeing it in bits will add to the finished view and be more interesting to read when it's done. I recently went to the Grand Canyon Association's Plein Air on the Rim website and watched a short video (podcast really) of last year's event. Whoa! How inspiring. This area is on the left side of the 4' x 6' painting. It was a challenge because it is such a huge expanse. Time to take out the 3" brushes. It's an almost slap-dash area and I think that made all the difference.

Monks' Quarters, Tumacacori Mission, Arizona

Taking a short break from the Grand Canyon today. I've wanted to play with some images that I have from visiting the Mission at Tumacacori awhile back. Tumacacori Mission was established by the Spanish Jesuit priest, Father Kino, in 1691. The day we were there, women from the local Tohono O'odham tribe were making sopapillas (deep fried tortillas, sprinkled with powdered sugar). We arrived late in the afternoon and were able to see a pretty nice sunset. I'm hoping to try painting the west side next. This painting is 16" x 20," on Blick artists' board. This is of the Monks' quarters just to the east side of the mission building. It has some buttressing in the front, as it's a mud adobe structure compromised by water (hmmm. That sounds familiar). I wonder now if it's been closed due to the recent budget cuts...

Grand Canyon Meditation

This segment of the Grand Canyon painting is showing more progress, I think. I'm starting to feel that this portion, this 2' x 2' section, might just be okay to leave alone for awhile. So, tomorrow I'll work on a different area. Reminds me that I'm learning to meditate. Do any of you artists/bloggers meditate? I'm an absolute newbie and, of course, not good at it. But, like the act of painting, I recognize the benefit and often feel a lot better after a session. I'm comforted by others who've written that they aren't great at meditating either, and that's par for the course. I guess I'm trying to calm that "monkey brain" that carries me off and leaves me distracted and sometimes a bit anxious. I found Marsha Lucas, Ph.D. , a licensed psychologist and neuropsychologist and watched her video, downloaded the podcast and have found it helpful. She makes the process so easy! Another thing that I learned to do is go to my 'happy place.' This is something anyone can do, too. Sit comfortably and imagine a moment from your past in which you were filled with a quiet joy and happiness. Then, with eyes closed, hold that image in your mind and lightly tap, alternating left hand/right hand on your body (each thigh while sitting is the standard) for about 30 seconds. Go there in your head. At first, there's nothing, but with consistent practice, I've noticed a pleasant calm--like drinking a good cup of decaf green tea--like staring into the Grand Canyon. If you're as nervous about the world as I am, this may help. Oh, and paint, paint, paint! That'll get you away from the news and ten billion thoughts!

The Power of a Mother's Voice

The holidays are over, the blue moon wanes, sending its blue tones into my head. My college student has flown back to the blizzards of weather and semester's winds. I hear in my head Bob Dylan's song (sung by Susan+Tedeschi), Lord Protect My Child: "For his age, he's wise He's got his mother's eyes There's gladness in his heart He's young and he's wild My only prayer is, if I can't be there, Lord, protect my child" I'm taking a moment in this new year to consider the power of a mother's voice. When Ell was just a baby and I was still carrying him in a snuggly, I used to dance and sing with him to Tracy Chapman's, All That You Have is Your Soul. Do you guys remember that song? "Don't be tempted by the shiny apple Don't you eat of the bitter fruit Hunger only for a taste of justice Hunger only for a world of truth 'Cause all that you have is your soul" Waxing nostalgic this evening, I thought it might be interesting to post the advice mail art that I sent the youngin' a couple of months ago. We'd had a discussion about how my voice is in his head. He reminded me that my voice, forever etched in his mind and heart, is so strong, that I don't need to be emphatic anymore. I could whisper and his whole being would respond. Whoa, eh? Sometimes that means, "If it's not one thing, it's your mother." (Robin Williams, I believe) This mailart piece was a huge challenge for me. It has a printout of some advice I've given, with windows cut out from a photo I took of the Doubletree Hotel. We see this hotel whenever we're outside. I thought, like rooms, a mother's words are stored for instant recall (for good or ill). We can visit the good words by opening the windows. Some of my advice was: Look up at the sky. Don't look up as the birds fly over. More willing, less willful. Floss often, wash hands more often. Ask for a hug. Use a splash of bleach in your laundry. Don't mix bleach with other chemicals. All that you have is your soul. Never iron naked. Sometimes struggle only tightens the ropes we seek to break. Stare at the ceiling for ten minutes or more. "Some know the price of everything, but the value of nothing"--you're not one of those. So, call your mother. There are 64 sayings that he can see by peeling back the paper windows, a bit like those advent calendars one sees during the holidays. I wrote: Here, dear Ell, is what's already in your head. Like a hotel with 64 rooms, you have compartments, boxes if you will, in which data, decorated with the minutiae of pragmatic living, furnished with emotions of joy, wisdom, trust, self help and love collected and stored for a time--until it's time to add or subtract more useful aphorisms. Yet some, the deepest and most true, stay always at the ready like your mother's voice, powerful, structural like the girders of architecture that make up each room--contained--a vivid history there. Love, ma (© M. S. Esparza) "But really, when you come right down to it, there are only four basic prayers. Gimme! Thanks! Oops! and Wow!" --Rabbi Marc Gellman I hope what you hear in your head are your own best, kindest, wisest, most loving words. If there are cruel ones, let's throw them out now. This year deserves a good start.

In a Blue Moon, In a New Year

From my home to yours, may you have a happy, happy new year. I'll be looking through eyes of admiration and wonder at all of the stunning work you make in the coming year, learning all I can from each of you, hoping to keep up.

Be well. Be strong.

Grand Canyon, Grand Year, Grand Hopes

From my point of reference today, a thought: When looking toward the future and what it may bring, try, try, try to remember how much you've survived, how much you've overcome, and how strong and confident it has made you. Let the year that has been, and your dreams for the next year, be filled with child-like joy and anticipation--while not losing any of your hard earned wisdom! The best of both worlds, yes? The sky is gray now, cloudy and cool. It's wonderful for sun bleached eyes needing a shady day. It feels like sunset at 4 PM. Lovely. It feels like a year ending. Here is another segment of the Grand Canyon painting from my work this afternoon. This is about 2 1/2' x 1 1/2' in the upper right quadrant. I can't tell you how therapeutic it is to paint this. But, I'll guess that as you ponder nature with all of its specific beauty (in your region and mine), you are often delighted when given the chance to wander or gaze unmolested by the trappings of cities and culture. Ah. Best wishes for a better new year wherever you are, whatever your circumstance. I don't make resolutions, but I do hope to continue to paint often. You, dear fellow artist bloggers, keep me sane, disciplined and optimistic!

Stepping Back from the Abyss: Grand Canyon Painting

The holidays are always freighted with conflicting emotions, new resolves, past remembrances--good and not so good, don't you think? It must seem as though time is flying by as we all think about the end of the year and our interest in the future. Sometimes it all looks like an abyss into which our lives fall until the new year. Well, here I am thinking about all of that and offering up a more pleasant abyss, from the edge--a safe place. This section of the monster is in the center of the painting. As you can see, I'm still traveling its depths, navigating the scenery and making it into paint. This segment is probably about 2' x 4.' Hope you're all warm and well as you attempt to stay above the fray!

From the Forest: Some Trees, Some Rain, a Few Square Feet

Chapter three of, Monsters and Grand Spaces of Paint. I realized that one of the things that happens when painting large is that when you rest for the day, it may not look as though you've painted much of anything. But, when looking at the square footage of painted area, it turns out to be significant and acceptable for the day. Have you had this experience? It really has been a brain tickling journey as I paint up close, get lost, step back and see that it's okay after all; or, step back and see that more layers are needed. I keep thinking that I'll be done with this canvas soon, but now, no sé. From the forest...I see some trees. And, the Tucson area is about to get a ginormous storm tonight with high winds, snow on the mountains and rain. Wow. We're not used to all of this cold weather, but we're loving the opportunity to wear Icelandic wool sweaters today.

The Monster is Back Plus Rain, Rain, Beautiful Rain

We opened the water harvesting barrels yesterday in eager anticipation of rain, glorious rain, and sure enough, in the middle of night, thunder and mud soaking rain! I hear Ladysmith Black Mambazo singing, Rain, Rain Beautiful Rain! Late this afternoon, I finished another mailart piece and began painting on the monster painting of the Grand Canyon (a link back to an earlier post) that has been lingering and nagging me for a year. Funny thing, I read a really good article about traveling and hiking in the Grand Canyon in the NY Times this morning. I took that as a broad hint to get in there and work. Here is a view of it from afar. Then the close-up follows. How many artists out there have hiked the Grand Canyon? I've only visited the rim. The Grand Canyon is beyond spectacular when it's snowing.

Mailart #7: The Health Issue

What do you say to a young, "immortal" twenty-something who has lived a healthy life, not knowing age or illness? Oh, I hear you and I do. I tell him to take at least 2000 IUs of Vitamin D3, eat the prickly pear fruit and mesquite flour I sent him, take the multi-vitamins, drink some tea, get as much sleep as possible, etc., etc.. Today, I've got a mailart piece that I made for my college boy last March. I know. The American love affair with the car is over. Yet, I don't have a new lexicon from which I can make an allegory or metaphor for the preciousness our bodies hold and the ever changing medical information and issues that currently face us. So, I chose the image of one of the fastest cars made and the image of a dashboard to convey my motherly hope for my son's good health, both physical and psychological. Tucked into the "glove box" are 4th grade notes his classmates wrote years ago. This piece does have some naughty words in German that were fun to include. Just a note of warning because moms don't approve of such things on a regular basis. 

The message: I am like a Mercedes-Benz I am like an SLR McLaren I am like a Mercedes-Benz I am like an SLR McLaren I will be careful with fuel...I like to be fine-tuned I am like an SLR McLaren I am liking proper maintenance... Racing toward 20 !! 

 If a year were a mile You wouldn't want to rush to/at 20 miles an hour, kmh 

You'd want to walk Slowly As much as possible Looking, tasting, enjoying Every step Tacking, west-toward a quarter of a century Racing up that way Shift down Cruise Control Double clutch Once in awhile Drawn from mile to mile Walk: With Beauty Draw: Smudge lines Line the path* 

There are arrows Everywhere to direct you 

Erase where necessary Ask yourself: What memories will fill my odometer? What kind of tread will I burn...and/or bridges too? 

Love, mom © M. S. Esparza 

A few of the polite,funny German auto terms I found: INDICATORS Die Blinkenleiten Tickentocken CLUTCH Die Kuplink mit achlippen und schaken PUNCTURE Die Phlatt mit Bludymucken FUEL GAUGE Der Walletemptyung Meter TRAFFIC JAM Die Bluddinmuckin Dammundblast BACKFIRE Der Lowdenbangermekkenjumpen

Tucson Open Studio Tour, Perfect Weather, Perfect Days

The Tucson Open Studio Tour was a resounding success! The weather was cool to warm--flawless really. In so many ways, on so many levels, this event added good mortar to the bricks already lain, building this art sanctuary. It has solidified my commitment to the process.



Many thanks to everyone who visited! I'm remembering you today: The nice couple who bought the first painting. The artists who are on the path back to art making--seeing that they can start again. The woman dynamo and her thoughtful husband, who offered good advice about art marketing and who bought the largest painting. The kind strangers who came here after seeing my work in the 801 Gallery and the TPAC calendar and, finally, the ONLY art supply store in town (!), and one of the sponsors of the event, Sarnoff Art Supplies.

Then there are those art patrons who have stood by me, never wavering in their straight-forward, level headed support. Kirk--who can draw and paint circles around me. Linda--who is currently working on her second masterpiece as she raises another brilliant and good hearted boy. Nathanael--who is art walking, with quiet confidence and a gentle heart. Didn't we have fun?!!

A special thanks to you, my fellow art bloggers, whose presence I felt all weekend: Kathryn (whose Caran D'Ache made an appearance to inspire yet another artist), Barbara Muir (whose friendship and presentation advice have been priceless), Karen (whose discipline, encouragement and work keep me grounded), Silvina (whose wit and wisdom are matchless) and Linny D. Vine(whose work and kindness inspire me to dream).

And, well, that Mr. Artyfice out-did himself--My fellow artist and companion who kindly called me "Melindiva," and who raced around making sure I had cards, postcards, signs, food...and, on...and on...and--while I shouted "Brush!" All this he did with two broken fingers on the mend and very little sleep.

Now for a little chat with that falcon...

Tucson Open Studio Tour November 14th, 15th

The Tucson Open Studio Tour takes place this coming weekend, November 14th and 15th, from 11 AM to 5 PM. The Tucson Pima Arts Council has brought together over 167 artists to participate in the fall event.

Whew! Yes, I signed up a few months ago and am readying the studio for this weekend's excitement (trauma?)--which reminds me of the following quote from Mark Twain, "Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great." (from Taking the Leap, Cay Lang) Hope you're taking leaps forward even if they're a bit scary.

Here is the postcard that we have been handing out and, if you'd like, the link above will take you to the website that shows links and maps to the artists' studios. You can take a gander at what other artists are up to in this burg.

How I wish you all could attend. For now, I'm not in the studio to paint, but hope to be very soon.

In the meantime, I've got a couple of photos of the neighborhood falcon crying out..."Go back to your studio! Go back to your studio"! (?) and a view over the fence.

Dia de Los Muertos y Aquellos Viviendo

Little Yellow Zinnias, oil on linen panel, 3"x5"
I read the most beautiful obituary this weekend in the New York Times. Does this mean I'm an elderly person? Yeah, maybe. Yet, the NYT's Obits are so well written! They are like great short stories that leave you asking questions, curious to know more.

In the past few weeks, there have been several artists who have past away. I didn't know any of their names.

There were these: Nancy Spero, Ruth Duckworth, Amos Ferguson and, an actor from way back--Lou Jacobi

And then there was Albert York. As the author of the obit, Roberta Smith, wrote, he was "...a painter of small mysterious landscapes who shunned the art world yet had a fervent following within it." He was so uninterested in fame and glory that his one and only gallery representative quietly, and mostly without his knowledge, exhibited and handled his work. What I found so endearing and profound were the following:

He worked at his own pace.
He was emotionally engaged with his subject.
He kept on painting even though he had to work a 'real' job.
He didn't quit painting despite being "perpetually dissatisfied with his work, prone to scraping down his wood panels..."

Sound familiar?

In Tucson, Dia de Los Muertos is a pretty big deal. I like that we honor those who have died with a parade and celebration of their lives. I also like honoring the living by encouraging perseverance.

Now, I couldn't resist including Lou Jacobi. He was one of those character actors everyone recognized, but rarely could name. As one critic wrote, "Mr. Barnes... added: “He has a face of sublime weariness and the manner of a man who has seen everything, done nothing and is now only worried about his heartburn."" Wow. Can you imagine being so good as to convey such nuance? He was a funny, and serious man who, in real life, did everything he could to live well.

May we all endeavor to do the same, even if we scrape off a few paintings now and again.

This small, 4" x 6," oil on panel, is from an image of yellow zinnias from this summer. The flowers are now dying, but I still remember.

Tucson Weekly, Watering Dirt, Santana's "Smooth" Southwest October

What is uniquely desert behavior on a perfect October day? Dancing shamelessly in the sun to the sounds of Santana's song, "Smooth" (Supernatural), while wielding a garden hose, spraying a quarter of an acre of in-town dirt as clouds race overhead making curly-cue shapes, the way one might picture the bended notes of a great Santana riff.

I'm not alone. In Renée Downing's opinion piece in the local alternative news weekly, Tucson Weekly, she writes about this kind of collective giddiness when October hits the Old Pueblo. We know that we're going to have eight months of balmy days, cool days, and a few days in which we can actually wear sweaters.

I put down that hose long enough to paint this painting: Harvest, (16" x 20," oil on artists' board).

Hope you're having a great week, wherever you are, from behind cool sunglasses.

Mighty Vole Hunts Ubiquitous Cactus Fruit

What a mouthful this title is! Just for fun, I thought I'd paint from my imagination and see what developed. This one is painted on a Dick Blick Artist's Board, 16" x 20," with Winsor & Newton Artisan (water miscible) paints.

I've been absolutely enamored of prickly pear fruit this summer and have spent days boiling and processing the fruits we collected last month. We drove out to the desert northwest of Tucson and collected four large buckets full of the tunas. We tapped our buckets with large tongs to alert any rattlesnakes, and we kept our eyes to the ground for scurrying scorpions. I can't tell you how fun it was...truly. I felt a connection to the earth as we harvested a little bit of its bounty.

So, I guess I'm the little desert vole seeking fruit that will last through the winter.