Swan Valley, 2017

September 14th, 2017

Hi friends. Here’s a quick look at where we’ve been and what we’ve been doing in Swan Valley, Idaho. I’ll just show a few pictures, but the real insight is in the video at the bottom.

This panorama doesn’t do the place justice, but you get the idea. (Click it.)

It’s a wonderful mess, Anne’s paraphernalia close up, my studio at the rear.

A selfie at dinner, Anne’s tortellini soup with Italian sausage and corn bread.

A corner of the trout pond just behind the house. We left the trout alone.

Evening from the back porch on the last day.

You’ll enjoy the video tour. Consider the vertical format a view through a moving doorway. Be sure to click the ikon for full screen view.

PS.  If you didn’t see it, you might also enjoy my other blog, written from Swan Valley this week, here.


Paintings in Progression

August 4th, 2017

Thought you’d like to see a couple of recent paintings and the stages they went through before completion. Painters don’t necessarily begin their paintings alike, and I don’t always do it the same way myself. In the case below, it started with a fairly scribbly approach just to get the gesture and the position on the canvas (which I notice is a little off). It’s all done in oil, thin at first, on a scrap of canvas I had to practice on. The work is from life; I took her picture just for the record.

Renaissance Girl, 20×16, oil on canvas. Click twice on any of these for a larger view.

Here’s the final result when I finished. It was still very lose and without detail, but I rather liked it that way. It’s too easy to keep painting and lose the vitality. Besides, it had been about an hour and a half and I was ready to do something else.

Renaissance Girl, Face, 12×9, oil on paper.

So I moved in a little closer and concentrated on just the head. The lighting was nice, good for contrast and giving those little spots here and there. Flattering me, the model took photographs of both these paintings for herself.


Here’s another, this one from a photo which I viewed on my laptop screen. I did it during Art Walk at the Sandstone Gallery while visitors were milling about. It gave me something to do and for them, a little amusement. (I tell them I charge five cents to watch :-)

Masai Maiden, 12×9, oil on paper.

Once again, I could have gone further. The Masai are such colorful people. I’ve painted them before, having been to Kenya. The paper, by the way, has been treated with Shellac, which is mostly clear, and keeps the oil in the paint from leaching into and destroying it in 500 years. It’s a small precaution . . . there are other dangers looming before then.

The Festival of Arts continues in Laguna Beach with some 140 artists, live music, and happy vibes. Anne is at her booth (#130) most evenings; I go half that time, supporting her. It runs for the rest of this month. Don’t miss it.

Our Next Show at the House is now scheduled for the weekend of October 14 and 15.  Mark your calendars and don’t miss that either.

I’m doing a Lecture and Demo this coming Sunday at the Loma Linda Cultural Arts Association. That’ll be at 2:00-4:00, 25571 Barton Road, Loma Linda, California. All invited.

I’m still doing Coaching in the Studio for mid-level painters. It’s Saturday mornings for two hours, $60. If interested, contact me by email: moore@hyattmoore.com.

I’ve just begun showing and following on Instagram. If you are too, you might check me out. It’s a great way to see a lot in a very little time.



Anne’s Work Featured at Festival, Pinterest Fame, and How Justine got her Head

July 6th, 2017

Once again, Anne was selected to be among the artists showing this summer at the famous Festival of Arts in Laguna Beach. That event has been going on for 85 years, and it’s prestigious to be juried into it. (I never have been.)


This year the whole venue has been renovated. There are 140 artists displaying and selling. Here’s the opening night before the sun went down and the lights came up, making it really magical. Anne’s booth is in the distant right with the ochre wall. What you don’t hear is the band, making it really festive.


Somebody offered to take a shot of us both, though I get little credit (except marrying tastefully). Notice her book on display, available here.


Concealed Consequences, just one of Anne’s new works, framed and featured. There’s nothing like the Festival to get her motivated to produce new work. The studio has been awash with such elegance of design and color.


Here’s Anne with granddaughter Justine, already fashionable with the mandatory holes in pants. Sorry her expression isn’t better. She told me this morning that she’d bought her head.
“What, like in a head shop?” (I didn’t think she’d get that.)
“No, in a thrift store.”
“How did you find it, without eyes?”
“I just felt around. Then somebody picked one out they thought would look good on me.”
“Good choice,” I said, “you got a good deal.”
Such creativity. It’s non-stop.


Cohesive Diversity, another monotype on display at Anne’s booth. There are a number of printmakers showing at the festival, all excellent, all completely different, with lots of mutual admiration.

Do you know Pinterest? A lot of people have discovered Anne’s work on that site. In fact there are some 200 followers who have boards exclusively dedicated to the work of Anne Moore. Here’s a link to Anne’s own board.

The Festival of Arts runs all summer, mid-morning through the evening. Anne will be at her booth (Number 130) a lot of the time, but not all. If you’re coming and you’d like to see her, send an email in advance: anne@hyattmoore.com.



I’ve heard nothing more after the story of the ex-con artist featured last time. I’ve sometimes checked the BBC Channel 4 site. It’s legitimate, and they do some interesting programs. But we can’t get it here in the U.S. So that, I suppose, is that. I trust I helped him on his way.



Resourceful to the Max

June 2nd, 2017


It was a most unusual experience. Early last week two stylish and professional women came into the gallery where I was sitting that day. They said they represented the BBC and were looking for a place and a person to dialogue with an artist from England. They couldn’t tell me his name, only that he’d had some problems and was now “coming back.” I listened for awhile. It didn’t sound like a scam, so I agreed to help them out.

Over the next two days I received phone calls from other “producers,” seemingly more to check me out, that I was the right one to do this and that I’d dependably be there.

On Thursday I worked the gallery again. It’s the Sandstone Gallery in Laguna Beach where Anne and I both show our work. By late afternoon the two young women showed up, then three camera men, a sound man, and two more producers, men. Things were rearranged for best shooting angles. Then, finally, he appeared, the artist from England. Let’s call him Mark, as I’ve forgotten his real name. I still didn’t know anything about him besides what I’d first been told. Immediately camera were rolling.

Mark was a tall fellow, slightly bald, slightly crooked of tooth, large ears, large voice, and occasionally a large laugh—though somewhat forced and a little countrified. Of course he spoke with a British accent. (Or do I have an American accent?) He wore a medical neck brace, which I never quite got the story about. He was tall, and in fact that was my first comment in sitting down together, “How tall are you?”

“Six-foot, four.”

“Wow, I wonder what the perspective is like from there, looking over most people’s heads.”

“Yeah,” he said, “When I was inside . . .”

“What? Inside what?”

“You know, in the big house.”



So this was the mystery . . . the part I hadn’t been told. He’d been in prison, was just out, he was an artist, and the BBC was tracking him to see if there would be a story. If he was a great artist, they’d be in on his development. Even if not, it could be an interesting story to see how an ex-prisoner attempts to rebuild his life using art as his vehicle. The producers had told me they didn’t know what would happen with the footage, whether it would eventuate into a documentary, a TV series, one program, a movie or what? Mark would be in the States for one week. He would meet various people, including at least one gallery. This was his first day; this was his first gallery.

I liked him. And he’d apparently been looking forward to meeting me. He even carried a clipboard with a sheet of questions. Early on he wanted my opinion about whether one should tell interested clients his background. I affirmed that he should. People want to know who it is that made the art, what’s their story, how they happened to become who they are. If it’s a unique story, all the better. And when they buy the painting and display it, they’ll tell the same story to their friends.

He listened carefully to all this and thanked me for it. But there was another question: “How much do you tell them about how you made it?”

“Same answer,” I said, “that is if they care. I tend to tell people about my process of a given painting whether they care or not, because I think it’s interesting. So, yes, tell them.”

He thanked me for that too. Then he asked me how to succeed as an artist.

“That’s a harder one,” I told him. “There’s no one answer. First,” I said, “Define success. If it’s all about money, how much? How consistent? Maybe there’s never enough? If you define success as happiness it’s easier, you may be there already.”

He thought that was interesting. “But you’re successful,” he said, making a broad sweep of all my paintings on the wall.

“I’m successful on the latter part,” I said, “but you have no idea how many of these paintings are actually selling . . . and the same with all the seemingly successful artist in the galleries up and down the street.”

“Okay,” he got that, but what he really wanted to know was whether he could hope to make some money, some real money, some consistent real money on this new venture. I told him there was no one way that I know of, that every artist finds his own way . . . or doesn’t.

One thing I did tell him that I’ve discovered and that I tell other artists, “Go through every door that opens, and . . .” he broke in with his big rowdy laugh and finished my statement: “Bash down the others.”

It was, “knock on all the others,” that I was going to say.

“Why were you in prison?” I was curious but didn’t know if he’d want to divulge.

“I was naughty,” he said.


“I was naughty nine-teen times!” He laughed.

“But I never hurt no one.” He emphasized this. “I’m tall but I’m not strong; I’m weak.”

He wanted to know how I got into art. I told him a brief version of my story, which he found interesting, and I was interested in how he got started.

“It was inside,” he said.

How long had he been there?

“Just 20 years.”

“Twenty years!?!” He passed it off as if comparing to others with far more.

He told how one day he was just so angry with everything he took it out on a wall, marking it all up. When the guard saw it he said, “That’s good art! I’m still going to wash it off, but you’ve got ability.”

That got Mark’s attention.

After that he said he started doing it more, drawing on whatever he could find. But it really began when he got to acting out again and they threw him in solitary.

“Solitary confinement?

“Yeah. Have you ever been in solitary?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“It bad,” he said, “just those padded walls. I had some books and stuff, but then I got an attitude and they took all that away too, just to really punish me. I was in solitary for three months. Can I show you some of my art?”

“Of course.” This is what artists do, they show their work . . . especially to another artist, in a gallery. He’d brought with him a standard portfolio bag for flat art and a relic of a small suitcase, the kind you might find in a consignment shop for someone wanting a touch of nostalgia. He opened it and brought out a small piece of wire sculpture mounted on a block of wood. It was really quite fine. I wish now I had a photo of it, and of his paintings, and of him, and of us together. But I didn’t think of any of that. Wouldn’t there be plenty anyway? The cameras were rolling the whole time . . . though we’d become completely oblivious to them.

I got down on my knees for close inspection of the little sculpture. It was of a prison bed, complete with prisoner in it and even a piece of torn muslin for the “sheet.” I thought, “Wow, he really is an artist.” But still quite naive.

He called it his “two dimensional work.”

I said, “No, that’s three dimensional.”

“Two,” he argued.

“No, the work on the walls is two dimensional, with height and width. This has hight and width and depth, it’s three-dimensional.”

“Whatever,” he said.

Later he showed me a colored drawing of a two-decker British bus which he called a “self-portrait of a bus.” Again I had to correct. “It’s not a self portrait unless you’re in it. There’s nobody at all in your picture.”

“Yeah, but I did it. It’s a self-portrait.”


He showed me more of his paintings. One was a rear view of prisoners from slightly above, another of nature from behind bars complete with heavy lock, another was of one of his two daughters . . . “from two mothers,” he said, “one I don’t speak to. But I love my daughters.”

For the most part the colors were in brown tones, the substrate was manila file folders, some with labels in the corners that had been torn off. The perspective in the drawing was good, and I saw no evidence of any pre-drawing, further impressing me. I told him one reminded of a Van Gogh where he had painted prisoners in an exercise yard. Mark found this very interesting. Of course Master Vincent was never in prison, but often dignified the down-trodden.


Detail of Van Gogh’s Prisoners Exercising.

“Can I tell you how I made them?

“Of course,” I said.

“Feces,” he said, and waited for it to sink in.

“Feces?” I repeated, as the next level of this whole odyssey began to take shape.

“I had nothing else, he said, “that and a little bit of blood,” (and some other fluids the body produces that I won’t mention here).

“What did you use to put it on?” I asked, the line work being too fine for finger application.

“I made a brush,” he said.

“Of what?”

“Hair. My own.”

I admit I’m as stunned now as I recount it as I was when I was first hearing it. It’s no wonder the producers wanted me to know nothing before we began. And no wonder they’d done quite a bit of vetting of me, that I’d be one to handle it all in stride.

The fact is, I did. Though there’s an element of disgust in it all, there’s something positively creative and eminently resourceful about it. It’s no wonder he’d had these questions about how much to tell, of background, of methods.

Of course that is the story. He did have ability. But really no more, as I reflected later, than a talented high schooler who should be encouraged to develop it. But his story of how he discovered it and what he used to overcome the extreme limitations of resources, not to mention personal freedom, that’s the story.

He asked me if he should keep on using that approach, now that he’s out, or if that would be, “too much of a gimmick?”

I agreed it would be. But who knows? A lot of “artists” have stooped to a lot of things and got rich snowing the public. Artists with a “con” in the front. Only here it’s an Ex-con artist. (My joke. Don’t know if he’d have laughed.)

Our interview was at a close. I gave him a few more pieces of counsel as to how to succeed, in his case, mainly to be patient and not be tempted to go back to his old ways (like bashing down doors). In it all he thanked me, shaking my hand numerous times, like I’d really been an encouragement.

In his gratitude he left me with a boisterous, “If you’re ever in South London, just tell them you know Mark Cline. You’ll be taken care of.” (That was the first I heard his last name, and in fact I’ve forgotten it now. I only think it was Cline.)

I must say I enjoyed the whole process, and the crew, as they gathered up their equipment, seemed satisfied with what they got.

It was on the way home I got to wishing I had got his full name and some indication as to when it might air on BBC’s Channel 4. Later I put in a call to one of the young women that had first approached me. With no response, I called the other. I did this for a number of days, leaving messages, sending texts, and growing a little annoyed that though I’d been cooperative and dependable, I wasn’t getting the courtesy of a call back. After a week I finally got a recording from one simply saying, “This phone number has been discontinued, good by.” What? I punched in the number of the other woman and, again, “This phone number has been discontinued, good by.”

What was that about? A scam? But to whose profit? Very strange.

The whole thing, really.

If I ever hear more, or learn if anything is to be aired, I’ll let you know.

Meantime, here are a few points that might benefit:

Be resourceful—you may have more than you know very close at hand.

Measure your success by your happiness over your income, you might be closer than you think.

Go through all the doors that open, and knock on all the others. (And don’t be tempted to bash them down.)


Studio Show this Weekend–Three Artists

May 17th, 2017

Here’s the announcement for this season’s show. Lots of new art is on display, but as much as anything it’s an “open house,” a time for friends to gather, share some wine and cheese, and just enjoy the time. Come. And feel free to bring some new friends. See below for a preview.




Check the Rug
The show occupies every room in the house, even overflowing into the garage (above). I couldn’t resist the addition of the new rug when we happened on it at Lowe’s. To me it looks very much like the designers were inspired by Anne’s work. And why not? They’d know a good thing. And her work is all over Pinterist, a place artists often go for inspiration. It’s not a copy of any one design, rather a combination. Compare, for example, with the monotype at left, or below. Imitation is the best compliment, no?


Forgetting the Past (above) and Rewriting the Narrative (shown small) are among Anne’s pieces in show.Ali-wall-wide

Allison’s Show
This year daughter Allison Moore Adams will also be showing an array of her new work. The above is just part of it. Her theme is “Ground Breaking Girls,” portraits of notable women, present and past, who have made a difference.


Small Pieces

Among the many paintings, of all sizes, are a number of new small works of local interest, like the San Juan scenes above.

This is just a sample. There are easily 200 pieces of art on display. Then there’s the painting at the door, free to the one who guesses the number of paint caps in the jar.

So come if you can. You’ll love it, and it’ll be great to see you.


Demo Feedback

April 20th, 2017

Here’s a quick look at how a painting is made, or at least how one was made, during a live demonstration.



Both Anne and I are sometimes invited to make a presentation in some community of artists. The one in Huntington Beach is large and active, maybe a hundred people. I’ve been there four times. For the first half I talk, then after the break I start a painting with whatever time’s left, maybe half an hour (talking then, too). After this last time I received a very nice note and these photos from the president and corresponding secretary. As the note itself carried so much information about my approach, I’m sharing it with you here.


Here I am just minutes into it. My canvas unstretched, taped to a board. Note the house-painting brush and my famous ironing board for palette.

Dear Hyatt,

On behalf of the HBAL Board of Directors and our league members we express our appreciation for your highly delightful and very informative demonstration on March 1, 2017. Your comments on your approach to creating your paintings: “Begin the painting very loosely, tightening up little by little as  you paint, but only go so far; paint with confidence and just let it happen; and practice a lot” is wisdom we painter folk can all follow. Your approach is inspiring: First to


Here’s where I left off, still quite messy and needing plenty of fine-tuning. This stage is in fast drying and watery acrylic, the masked-off white edges left for the stretching process.

paint the large areas, then the background, cover the canvas with color and then work on the drawing, using negative spaces. The idea of standing when painting, with a large mirror behind you, is novel and obviously a perfect way to check your drawing . . . as well as your advice to merely suggest things in the painting, to add mystery and create interest.

Hyatt, your demonstration was packed with information and inspiration, and as you said, “painting should always be fun . . . do not let yourself get depressed.”


Flamenco Style, oil over acrylic, 42×28, click for details.

That was the note. I was grateful, particularly as they really did capture my main points for how to approach a painting. I was impressed. I hope you find it informative.


Crestline 2017

February 16th, 2017

Thanks to our friends Bruce and Sandy Wegner we had use of their cabin in the mountains again this year. Since Anne was just juried into the Laguna Festival of Arts again, she had plenty of reason to produce lots of good art.
(Double click on photos for larger views.)



That’s the cabin on the left. Sorry its such a small shot. You can see it larger, and our blog on last year’s time here. Above is how the place looked after we turned it into a studio and had been at it a couple of days. That’s her press on the table (under its blanket) next to the computer, where I spent a lot of time.


Anne brought a lot of unfinished pieces, awaiting further inspiration and more time to work on them. In these almost two weeks she worked on 40 pieces!
One of the challenges is where to put them all as they’re drying. All the walls were used as well as this guest bed.


Monotype printmaking, the way Anne does it, involves a number of layers. It’s part intelligent design and part discovery of what will happen. Here she’s just lifted the plate off the paper after running them through the press. Note where part of the red ink was masked off by those ovals, also of her making.


To give an idea how these things can change with every new layer, the above shows the finished product (right) with how the piece looked just before that. Even that one (left) had multiple layers to get to that point.


Here’s another “before and after.” You can see why it’s sometimes hard to know when a piece is finished. I’m always looking at her unfinished work and calling it beautiful. But she’s not satisfied till she’s satisfied.


Talk about transformation, here’s another. You can hardly tell the one on the left led to the one on the right. But the first is forever gone, serving now only as underlying intrigue for the finished work.
For her book showing many more examples of finished work and how it’s made, click on Art Under Pressure at right.


While Anne was super productive in both quantity and quality, I painted very little this trip. Here I am getting started on a little piece I didn’t keep. I spent the majority of my time writing, another of my interests/artforms. So at least I wasn’t frustrated when the painting wasn’t going so well.


I was trying a new style which I thought would be easy, but wasn’t. Here are three small works I kept . . . nothing like the numerous big ones and a score or so of barn paintings done last year. (See the book created from those at right.)


Did I say I was less than pleased with some of my work? Here’s how four of them ended up, in the flames. I will say our fireside times every evening, with a book or a movie, were part of the delight of everything.


And finally, a selfie in a mirror on our last day, celebrating our 51st anniversary (tomorrow). With five children and 16 grandchildren, most scattered around the country, we’re rich. And grateful for all things.


Sandstone Show features Hyatt and Anne

January 3rd, 2017

For some years Anne and I have been part of Sandstone Gallery in Laguna Beach. Each month two of the nine participating artists are featured. This is the first time for both of us to be featured at the same time. It’s always a fun evening, with all the galleries open and lots of people out. You’d enjoy it.


Sid in a pose just right for a painting.

Here’s a quick look at the painting used in the advertising. When Anne and I were in France last spring we took in many, many art museums. We were inspired by everything. Now and then I’d come across a piece that enthused me to try one similar. The above, Portrait of Sid (16″x20″) is my result of that. In many ways it’s not so different from approaches I already use, but perhaps taken a little further. That’s Sid herself in the black and white photo I came across from 1967, about the time we all went different ways.anne-w-anne

Here’s a portrait of Anne photographing a detail of Portrait of Anne.

It was in Colmar, France, where we came across the painting entitled Portrait of Anne, by Russian painter Nicolas de Stael, done in 1953. I don’t know if Anne was taking this picture because she loved the painting as I did, or its name. (I’ve always loved that name.)


Fowl cry foul
The sky she’s falling again
Bovine first to know.

Both of us were taking pictures all the time, her with i-pad, me with i-phone. But I also did a great deal of sketching. The book I produced after the trip is available and featured here. As you can see, though the painting is strong in its use of color, it also holds up in monotone with bold graphic elements. Since I was also writing haiku for the book, here’s the one that accompanied this page:

Saint Petersburg painter
Translates woman in essence
We know his language. 

The sketch on the facing page is after an aquatint print we found in the gift shop, a process particularly of interest to printmaker Anne. There’s my haiku for that one, too.


Whispered Announcement, monotype, 15×10.

Here’s just one of the numerous original prints Anne is showing this month at Sandstone. As with so many of them, it was a long time in the making . . . begun in the home studio and completed much later during our artmaking hiatus in Oregon two months ago in November.

Here’s the announcement for the show, complete with times and address. Hope to see you, then or sometime.


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New Book: Barns of Iowa

December 2nd, 2016

Here’s a book full of fun renditions of beautiful barns in their colorful and imaginative environments. And here’s an overview of its making.


It’s another of my 8-inch square series, in full color. The original of the cover painting hangs prominently in the inn’s lobby.
For all these photos, click to enlarge.

It’s been about two years since the project started. That’s when I was approached with making a couple of paintings for the University Park Inn and Suites in Ames, Iowa. They were redecorating their whole operation, new furniture, new fabrics, new colors, everything, all under the guidance of a professional hotel interior designer. From my two or three paintings they would produce prints to hang in each room. But I countered with a better idea. I would make original paintings for each room.


Matted and framed. When there was to be two in a room, I made a matching set.

Of course, the expense of that was a factor, but I proposed quickly done pieces with a minimum of direction coming from them. They would just supply photos, I would make renditions, and they would accept whatever I sent. They agreed and we were off.



(Top) A view of Toledo, Oregon and (bottom), two painters enjoying life.

As the redecorating of the whole place happened over time, they didn’t need everything at once. So I supplied the paintings in spurts, working on them during our various art-making breaks in different locations.

The above two photos are the setting in Oregon where we go every year (and were again last month). That prominent building is not a barn, rather a converted church, the studio of our host, artist Michael Gibbons. That’s him chatting with me in front of a group of just completed barn paintings.



(Top) The cabin in the pines and (bottom) 21 barns produced there.

Some will remember previous blogs that featured these trips. We set up a studio in these various places; Anne works on one side and me on the other. In the end we photograph our production. The above photos were taken earlier this year in Crestline, California . . . a place we will return to again soon.



(Top) The secluded get-away in Swan Valley, Idaho with a private trout pond. (Bottom) Two artists at work (never fishing).

Here’s another “cabin,” this lent by a friend who built it. Quite majestic, no? Here you get an idea of Anne at work too. We take her press along and all of her paraphernalia, as well as all my stuff for painting–acrylics and oils.

Barns are not a subject I’d done much before, more like never. But it’s a fun one, particularly when with a worry-less, carefree abandon of anything goes. Well, almost anything.  A few of them fought back at me and I’d have to bear down. But I tried to always keep it light. Here’s a sampling of how they look in the book. If you click on the pages you can even read the haiku.







While the inn owns all these paintings, it’s only in this book that they can all be seen. The originals are all spread around in the rooms. It makes the book all the more special.

The haiku came late, actually after I had the first draft of the book in hand. I realized it still needed something. So, with the five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables rhythm I let the mind flow and they just came out. Actually, they were written a lot like the pictures were painted, with a light touch and not much worry.

In the end, the folks in Iowa loved them all, the paintings and the books. Here’s a quote from the owner, Anne Burgason, after their first books arrived:

“The books, in hand, are so delightful!!  What a fruition (is that how that word is spelled?) of two years of creative, inspirational diligence…and a melding of artist and entrepreneurship.  We couldn’t be more thrilled with the gift and tool it is to us.  The poems were the perfect ending inspiration and addition.”

So there we are, another book. You can have it too. Good for gifts, and good for you.


For pricing, more samples pages, and ordering info, click here.

For a list of all our books, also great for gifts, chick here.


Altered Art and Upcoming Show

October 13th, 2016

People often ask me how long it takes to make a painting. I’m fairly fast so often the answer I give can impress. On the other hand, sometimes a painting can take years to complete. That’s when I take another look at a piece long finished and think, “I could do that different.” So this blog will show a few examples of where that has happened lately.

Then, at the bottom is an announcement/invitation to our next show at the house. Get it on the calendar as it’s coming up the end of this month.


Red Sun Hat, 36×24, oil. Click on titles for availability.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of changing the background color and maybe brightening up the colors a little. The original version was fine but simplifying the background heightens the contrast and gives a little more drama to the beautiful figure caught in time. (Click on pictures to enlarge.)


Firefly, 28×19, oil

Speaking of adding drama, sometimes a strong color contrast is the ticket. Here was a piece I did years ago, out of my head as I remember. I came across it in my storeroom and started experimenting with it. I thought to take a picture after I’d begun with some red lines to reposition the arms. In the end I also turned her head, gave her a new garment, a new background, new hair and a new fitting title. Don’t remember what she was before, but now she’s a firefly.


Living Wonder, 30×24, oil

Here’s one that changed dramatically. Actually I only used the earlier painting as a blank canvas for the new one. The risk of showing these is that some will say they liked the first one. But I’d reworked it a couple of times some years ago and was never particularly content so away it went. Actually the new painting at mid-point held a certain intrigue, but no, I was after a large and dramatic floral. A new wall flower? (Again, click the photo to enlarge.)



Out and About became Still Water Night, 36×48, oil

Sometimes a “representative” painting can turn into an abstract, and sometimes it can go the other way around. I had the first one,  for some time, even showing it in a gallery, but when it came back I looked at anew and saw something else . . . like water, which then needed a boat to define it, and a few lights here and there that, though abstract, really do happen in nature what with reflections and all. Hope you like it; I do.



(Top) Out of the Blue Golds, 30×30, oil and gold leaf, and (under)  Rose in Gold, 32×26, oil.

In the case of both of the two paintings above, the workmanship was fine, the statements were complete, but neither had gone anywhere so I decided to dress them up in gold. That’s gold leaf on their garments. Nothing like a new set of clothes to change ones whole outlook. Click to examine that gold leaf work.


Walking Away iii, 47×28, oil

One more, just to illustrate again what a background can do to enhance the drama. I’d always liked the scumbling work on that sundress, paint over paint over paint to get a great texture. And I liked the simplicity of that hair, unlike with the dress, done in just a few strokes. It was a fine painting, but I was in the groove of refreshing paintings and altering background, so there she goes. (Click painting twice to better see that scumbling.)



Here’s an invitation to our next show at the house. In addition to the pieces shown above will be an array of new work, by both Anne and myself. And again this time there’ll be a good selection of “entry level” small works, highly affordable and beautiful. And, of course, it’s just fun. So come. Its pre-Halloween weekend. Pie will be served. (Costumes optional :-)