Archives For graphite

Gift Cards

Mary Liz Ingram —  December 1, 2015 — Leave a comment

Sometimes it’s so hard to choose a piece of art for a friend! Or you want to commission a portrait for a family member, but you’re not sure which photo they would like. If you’re stuck, I have an option for you:

Gift Cards for artwork!

Gift cards can be purchased in any amount and are redeemable for commissioned or available pastel paintings of chosen value. From pastel portraits, to ink doodles, to watercolors…so many options available for your friend or family member to choose from!

Gift Card

Gift cards will be written for the amount paid & purchase intention noted (ex: 5×7 framed pastel; 8×10 unframed portrait, etc.). Gift cards will be signed by the artist for authenticity. Those receiving gift cards may upgrade to higher-priced artwork by paying the balance. 

Pet Portraits

Mary Liz Ingram —  October 21, 2015 — Leave a comment

A portrait is a wonderful way to create a lasting memory of your pet…any pet! Either in black & white or full color, I so enjoy creating a true-to-life painting to bring out the personality behind the photograph. With each detail captured, from the glint in the eye to the many hues in the fur, these portraits can be valued for generations. I’ve drawn everything from fish and dogs, to cows and chickens, to rabbits and cats.

Pet portraits make wonderful gifts…in order to ensure completion for Christmas, contact me today! marylizingramart@gmail.com

Pet Portrait Pricing:

8 x 10″: $175 ink or charcoal, $225 color pastel; add $90 for each additional subject

9 x 12″: $200 ink or charcoal, $260 color pastel; add $100 for each additional subject

11 x 14″: $250 ink or charcoal, $325 color pastel; add $125 for each additional subject

16 x 20″: $400 ink or charcoal, $465 color pastel; add $200 for each additional subject

18 x 24″: $550 ink or charcoal, $625 color pastel; add $275 for each additional subject

24 x 36″: $750 ink or charcoal, $850 color pastel; add $400 for each additional subject

Prices for other subjects and sizes available upon request.

It Figures…

Mary Liz Ingram —  July 31, 2013 — 2 Comments

“Every person needs to take one day away. A day in which one consciously separates the past from the future…. A day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for.” -Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey

Sometimes you just need a break… get away from it all, clear your head, breathe in life.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary. He so sweetly surprised me by taking me on a long journey, far away to a Scottish resort.

Okay, really we dropped off our three kids at my parents’ house and drove 15 minutes to a lovely resort which felt very far away (and they did play bagpipes at sunset!). It was a fabulous 18 hours of relaxation and peace. We were both able to hang out in our respective spa areas for quite awhile and have a massage.

Now let me tell you something about Mary Liz and massages:

I’m a bit uptight. Massages stress me out a bit. I get nervous beforehand, and try my best, in my yammering stream of consciousness, to relax. But still…massages are lovely. Somewhere in between feeling awkward, wondering how many nasty feet the guy rubs a day, and finding my happy place, I began contemplating the human body: muscles, skin, shapes of calves…we people are pretty cool.

When we returned from our mini vacation, refreshed and ready to hug our tiny people, I felt inspired to do some figure drawing. 

Right down the road, there is a figure drawing class once a week in the evening. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work in my family schedule, so… I tried the next best thing. Home alone, kids asleep, I had to draw myself. I’m not a fan of pictures or drawings of myself, but you do what you gotta do to feed a whim.

So I present to you two self-portrait sketches, in graphite on paper.

Self portrait, graphite sketch

Self portrait, graphite sketch

Self portrait, graphite sketch

Self portrait, graphite sketch

 

 

 

Lounging

Mary Liz Ingram —  July 16, 2013 — 2 Comments
Chair with apple, graphite sketch

Chair with apple, graphite sketch

Sunday mornings are made for lounging, an always calming day of rest. 

We’re always on the go: working, playing, living. It’s important to me to also stop. To rest, to reset, to pause and refresh.

Some might say that Sundays are made for church-going, especially since we live in the southern U.S., aka “the Bible Belt.” My husband works at a Methodist church, a published and well-known youth minister (www.organicstudentminstry.com!). The kids and I get up and go fairly often, but not in a rush or in perfection. It’s taken me awhile, and much attitude-adjusting, to go without stress or pressure or guilt, to go without feeling a burden of expectations. This is also part of the South.

I’m just beginning to go in restfulness, often meaning my hair is still damp, my dress is comfortable, and I’m there with my family in peace. It’s hard to add another place to be, and sometimes staying home in quiet is most needed.

This past Sunday we didn’t go to church. We rested well together. We loved and laughed and lived. We learned about bugs and plants, we ate three meals at our table together, we built forts and unloaded the dishwasher together, and we took care of one another.

These things are important too.

 

 

The sound of a few tiny footsteps brings me out of softly nestled dreams into the awareness of morning. It’s 6:45 on Sunday, and I open my sleepy eyes to a beaming, messy-haired and snaggle-toothed 7-year-old, who greets me with a whispered “Happy Mother’s Day Mom!”

Mother's Day breakfastShe holds a tray, taken off one of our nesting tables, set with her own well-intentioned version of breakfast:

  • a bowl of now-mushy cereal
  • a peanut butter granola bar
  • the “prettiest orange” she could choose
  • a little candy heart made out of tootsie rolls and leftover Easter candy
  • a small glass of milk
  • a rose pulled out of her dance recital bouquet
  • and a homemade card

Her Batman-footie-clad little brother comes pattering in soon after, with a handful of stickers and drawings especially for me. They also picked out all the yellow tubes of various paints from their own art kit, since yellow is my favorite color.

As I ate my – ahem – delicious breakfast, being eagerly watched by little expectant faces, I felt grateful for every too-sweet, soggy bite.

Peter Ilsted, "Girl Reading"Later in the morning, I followed a white rabbit down the Google trail, discovering art techniques and artists previously unknown. A Danish artist from the turn of the 20th century captured my interest, with his “Sunshine and Silent Rooms.” Peter Ilsted, along with several of his contemporaries, created paintings and prints of clean, sunlit rooms with calm, still figures…very beautiful, very peaceful, very quiet. The pieces were so calming, I couldn’t help but pause. It was as if the only sound to be heard was the rhythmic ticking of a clock on an unhurried day; snapshots of ordinary places, ordinary moments, yet full of beauty and grace.

Inspired by the tranquility of Ilsted’s work, I sat down in my own quiet, sunlit room and sketched my two older children, who were quietly playing with a few small toys at the coffee table. While drawing their busy little hands, my daughter’s crossed feet, my son’s little nose, I felt so grateful for the ability to absorb each detail in this every-day moment, and so happy to be a mom on this Mother’s Day.

Sunshine and Quiet Play, graphite sketch

Sunshine and Quiet Play, graphite sketch

“How wonderful life is while you’re in the world” -Elton John

What’s the point?

Mary Liz Ingram —  April 28, 2013 — 3 Comments

“Ah, ignore me. I’ve got a touch of existential flu”  –Inspector Lewis, “Soul of Genius”

Every now and then I have a bout of artists angst.

The Point, original photographyMy creations seem worthless, foolish, juvenile attempts. I ponder questions of the meaning of life, of my daily doings. I wonder internally and externally “What’s the point of it all?”

After purposed distraction away from my “existential flu,” I am able to reflect upon firmer footing. I hear quiet, in-progress answers.

The point of art, of “platform-building,” of more Twitter followers, more Facebook likes, more blog subscribers, art shows…well, of everything really…the point of it all is to share.

At least to me, at least today.

Sometimes our efforts are directed toward success: fame and fortune. Probably not gonna happen. I honestly can’t name a single “famous” living artist. I can name successful, well-known local artists, or respected artists in this particular group or that. But an overarchingly world-famous modern day artist? Not your household name.

Hoping for posthumous fame? It could happen…but why strive only for such a slim, seriously almost impossibly slim, chance? Not my goal… (I mean, hey, if I turn out to be amazing and take the world of art by storm, and am remembered throughout future history, I won’t complain).

Fortune? I sell art  in a satisfying amount, at what I hope are reasonable, accessible prices… Not seeking my fortune.  (yes, I have a day job, as most artists do…)

At this point in my life, the point of my strivings are to collect and share.

To collect pieces of beauty, depth, purpose; to evoke memories, some form ofgoodness, to encourage reflection and change, to share truths small and large as I find them.

It may sound mushy; “sentimental hogwash,” if you will. But I think it is a worthy endeavor.

I think this “point of it all” can be applied everywhere in life. To share what we can with our fellow beings. To share support with those who need it, to foster environments of safety & respite where it is lacking. To share peace & beauty when things seem dim, to share some sort of goodness in a world that holds on to much pain. To share a presence and an understanding that life is not easy, and you are not alone.

“We’re all in this thing together
Walkin’ the line between faith and fear
This life don’t last forever
When you cry I taste the salt in your tears”
-Old Crow Medicine Show

Reflection, Quick Graphite Sketch… I gave a speech today. I dont like public speaking…not one bit. In seminary, I took all the classes but the preaching classes. I love teaching; I can lead a pastel demonstration for hours and actually get energy from “speaking while doing.” But at a podium with a microphone? No thank you. I’ll do it, I’ll try my best, but I don’t like it. Who does like public speaking anyway? Oh right, my HUSBAND, who happens to be really great at it. Continue Reading…

My POV

marylizingramart —  July 21, 2012 — 2 Comments

Hay Bale, Graphite Sketch…My husband and I have a ritual; it helps us decompress after our busy days, and is a routine time to relax and enjoy being together. Each night once the kids are tucked in bed, we sit on the couch, each with a glass of milk and two freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, to watch one of our recorded shows. Last night we watched the Next Food Network Star. Each Star hopeful must have a “POV,” a “Point of View” that would make their own Food Network show unique. Two weeks of my daily drawings are now complete, and over morning coffee, I reflected upon my “POV”…my own point of view around which my art revolves. I know art doesn’t have to have a “point” or a “meaning,” that it can be art for art’s sake, but my organized self loves to have everything in its place, categorized and grouped. I want my art to fit together and have a meaning, a purpose, a POV. When I reflect upon my daily drawings, I see the common thread of my own human experience: family, relationships, love, warmth, what surrounds me in my place, what is important to me in my life. Linking the theme of my sketches with my current pastels and paintings, my POV emerges as, in my husband’s words, “Southern eclectic”: a mixture of rural and city, objects and figures, past and present…the story of my place. I find warmth, family, richness and beauty in the South, in its porches and fields, its trees and marshes, its people and history, its rust and wood. A representation of the story of humanity, the South is a tightly woven tapestry of good and bad, hospitality and hatred, comfort and pain, smiles and sorrow. Despite its dark threads, my South triumphs with beauty, with color, with life, with strength; in my place and through my art, I hope to reveal and foster greater peace, honest love, and a warm, genuine reality of Southern hospitality, a welcoming with open arms.

Daddy’s Home

marylizingramart —  July 20, 2012 — Leave a comment

Daddy’s Home, graphite sketch…Today’s big event is that “Daddy is home!” My kids have been counting down to this day all week. Just as my dad did for my sister and I when he travelled, my husband always brings our kids a “prize.” This week he was in rural Alabama, not a place very conducive to buying souvenirs, but he nonetheless came home with some very interesting treasures! Cue the knitted Spiderman finger puppet made in Ecuador. It makes me laugh (it’s so odd!), and it made our son very excited. So here’s a fuzzy little Spidey: a celebration of homecoming, family and the funny things in life!

Nora, 3 months, Graphite Sketch…Today is the birthday of Edgar Degas, the French Impressionist famous for his figures of ballerinas, bathers, and other turn-of-the-century subjects. He also happens to be my favorite artist and major influence on my own art. I especially love Degas’ pastels…the vibrant contrasts, the intense markings, the vivid colors. His preparatory sketches are often a combination of strong, dark shadows mixed with precise, yet loose, lines. I like to study his work and absorb what I can into my own way of seeing color and interpreting subjects. In homage to Degas, I chose a figure drawing for my daily sketch, drawing my sleeping baby girl (who was a bit squirmier than I expected, once drawing commenced!) I used my darkest pencil, marking in the shadows, contemplating the art of Degas as I recorded this day in my baby’s young life.

The Tub, Edgar Degas, Pastel

Two Dancers Resting, Edgar Degas