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Ready to goWhen you constantly create art, you eventually run out of room.

Time for a Summer Art Sale!

The pieces below are marked down for the next 2 weeks only, July 31-August 14.

Pastels, ink doodles, framed, unframed…there are lots of options. Some of them are my favorites, and they would love to find a home on a wall near you!

Contact me today to purchase your favorite! 

Art is available for immediate pick up or shipping (shipping costs apply). Cash, check and credit card accepted.

Click on the image to see the full view


Retro Icons

Mary Liz Ingram —  March 30, 2014 — Leave a comment

I’m gearing up for my art show next Saturday, April 5th in Crestline! Over the next few days I’ll introduce you to the pieces making their debut and ready to find new homes.

My newest series “Retro South,” is all about history, color and icons of the South, and even more specifically the city I call home: Birmingham.

Take a look and follow the links to read more about each piece:

Yellow Truck



Sloss Furnace & Airstream

Rusty Train





Old Rusty Train

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 26, 2014 — Leave a comment
Speeding along, with rhythmic persistence, miles covered by churning wheels.
Barreling forward to each destination, no unplanned stops or slowing on the horizon.
Without forethought, the emergency brake is pulled, a screeching, steaming, crashing halt.
With a wheezing sigh, the train lies still.

Always moving, never resting, the time had come to stop. No phone, no work, no have-tos. I pulled the emergency brake on my full, ever-pursuing busy life.

As I approached my front door and weekend respite, I felt the embrace of a self-chosen hibernation. Once the door closed behind me, nothing or anything lay ahead. Quiet, rest, refueling was expected.

But that’s not how a train stops without warning.

More like a shaking, grinding, shuddering, momentum-stopping standstill.

Welcome to my Saturday morning: the aftermath of a much-needed break from everything.

I slept…I puttered…I slept…I puttered…I ate at my parents, then returned to climb in bed at 7:30pm. My head hurt all day, like being purged from the addiction of busyness.

Come Sunday, I felt clear. I felt calm, rested, connected in a real ways. Detoxified of stress, anxiety, pressure, burdens, I began to recover and reemerge with a more restful, more mindful perspective. A greater goodness crept into my tired should. My thoughts settled on family; I said “yes” more to my children. Half-formed thoughts stirred and stirred.

I followed the free string of my thoughts, now cleansed of distractions, and found myself thinking of our stories. My heritage, how I came to be here through my family. We seem to listen so late, wait so long before grasping the value in the stories of family. I decided it is time to listen more intently, to learn the stories in the lives of others. To understand the paths of my family that kept converging until mine began 32 years ago.

Like a magpie, I’ve collected treasures: symbols of the past, bits of history, connections to another time and place. I looked at a few of my favorite things and ended my weekend journey with a crock pot of taco soup and a dinner visit to my grandparents, where my children played dominoes with my Paw Paw and my baby sang “Wheels on the Bus” with my grandmother. It was  a night that unexpectedly glowed. A moment that would not exist if I hadn’t stopped and listened.

I found a different peacefulness from pulling the brake. It equipped me with a new grounding that helped me survive the tangled week to come…

At night, especially on these clear, cold January twilights, I hear a distant train whistle blow. Signaling approach, calling goodbyes, reminding us to pay attention. The train pushes on, going places in the darkness with light bright and pace steady, knowing when to stop, when to refuel and when to commence another journey.

Old Rusty Train, 8x10 pastel

Old Rusty Train, 8×10 pastel


Old Wooden Train, charcoal & conte sketch on paper

Old Wooden Train, charcoal & conte sketch on paper

On the ninth day of Christmas sketches…

Slow as molasses. This phrase has NEVER been used to describe me.

I’m a busy lady, like those “9 Ladies Dancing,” and I like to get things checked off the list and done ASAP. On the go, that’s me.

It’s early morning and I am (shockingly) awake. It’s quiet and dark, and I hear a Birmingham train whistling in the distance…the world is slow and sleepy. My cats are stretching, the neighborhood is still. An important piece to my Christmas journey has floated into my thoughts:

take it slow.

There are so many wonderful things we like to do at Christmas: the carousel at the mall, Zoolight Safari at the zoo, advent calendar activities, visiting Santa, watching all our Christmas movies, making S’mores on the fire; we thought about taking a quick trip to Atlanta or Nashville.

All those activities are fun, but too much fun is just too much. We’ve resolved to take this Christmas slowly…

do less, enjoy more.

I can already breathe easier, as the sun begins to rise and the sky begins to lighten. Longer hugs, slower S’more roasting sessions, less rushing, less fussing, more peace, less pressure.

We’re taking the slow train this Christmas, and enjoying the view.

9 Ladies Dancing

9 Ladies Dancing