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A Rear View

Mary Liz Ingram —  March 17, 2014 — Leave a comment

It’s been nine years since I sat on the cool marble bench, in a brightly lit room, surrounded by people.

One of my dearest friends by my side, we stared at a very nice, very shapely rear end.

We had quite a conversation about this certain rump, exposed and shining in the overhead light.

We laughed and closed one eye, pretending to give it a pinch from our seats.

We even took a few pictures.

Michelangelo knew how to sculpt a butt. David has quite a nice tushy.

That was not the only time I’ve been mooned by a statue.

We residents of Birmingham, Alabama can be mooned any day of the week by our resident Roman god of the forge, Vulcan.

Sloss Furnace, 12x14 pastel

Sloss Furnace, 12×14 pastel

Vulcan watches over “the Magic City,” which grew so fast in the early 1900s due to the abundance of materials and ability to make iron and steel (hence Sloss Furnaces!). He has a pretty cool story. We had to write reports all about him back in my early school days. Here’s a snippet about Vulcan, but you should really check out Vulcan’s full story.

“Vulcan, Birmingham Alabama’s colossal statue is the world’s largest cast iron statue and considered one of the most memorable works of civic art in the United States. Designed by Italian artist Giuseppe Moretti and cast from local iron in 1904, it has overlooked the urban landscape of Alabama’s largest city since the 1930s.” (source)

So in my pursuit of capturing iconic landmarks and pieces of the “Retro South” with my pastels, I of course am obligated to give homage to Vulcan.

Now, Birmingham residents may notice what I chose to depict in his hand. Vulcan, restored in 1999, now holds a spear. But when I was growing up, he held a lighted torch. It glowed green on days when there were no traffic fatalities, and red when someone had died in an accident.

Perhaps a little strange, a little morbid, a little heavy for kids, but my sister and I were obsessed with seeing if anyone died or not each day. I confess I was a little disappointed when this quirky signal was changed. But hey, my kids still love to see if they can spy Vulcan atop Red Mountain whenever there’s a chance.

And they thought it hilarious the day we were at Vulcan Park, standing on his pedestal overlook, high in the air, looking up at his big naked booty.

Vulcan, 8x13 pastel

Vulcan, 8×13 pastel

Big Brag…

Mary Liz Ingram —  March 4, 2014 — 1 Comment

Please excuse this blatant brag post…

I must. I can’t help it.

I received this email last week about my oldest child, and I’m so proud of her that I just have to share!

Good Morning,
 
I wanted to let you know that your daughter is my February Student Spotlight! This month teachers were looking for students in their classrooms who show “Tolerance”. This is a student who recognizes and respects the opinions, practices, or behaviors of others-even if they are different from his/her own-and welcomes new experiences and people into his/her life! She will be recognized at an assembly…. and this will remain a surprise for her until our counselor recognizes these students during the morning announcements sometime next week!

As I write this, she doesn’t know of the award. I love that she is being honored for something that just comes naturally to kids, but seems so difficult for so many adults.

We can learn so much from the small ones in our world, if we just pay attention, watch & listen.

Daughter, charcoal sketch

Daughter, charcoal sketch

Keep Dreaming

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 10, 2014 — 1 Comment

Sunday morning, lots of PJs, snuggling and drawing. The 2014 Winter Olympics play on the TV, a recording from last night replayed for the kids.

My 8-year-old videos the already-recorded figure skating on a phone, enthralled by the young Russian who spins so fast you lose sight of what’s what.

Videographer, ink doodle

Videographer, ink doodle

 

My 6-year-old draws pictures of snow boarders and dreams of flipping through the air (something, I would argue, he already does off of my furniture).

Dream Sketcher, ink doodle

Dream Sketcher, ink doodle

The baby watches and rocks on her horse, periodically coming to see the drawings I’m doodling while sipping my warm coffee.

Horse Rocker, ink doodle

Horse Rocker, ink doodle

You know, it’s hard being a parent.

Being responsible for the nurturing and raising of a child, not to mention three. Responsible for encouraging talents, providing opportunities, while still keeping life carefree and simple and full of freedom to create and explore. So many, especially Americans, pack out their weeks with back-to-back extracurricular activities on top of homework and high demands for excellence. I’ve always promised not to buy into the crazy-busy schedules, letting my kids try one activity at a time.

But then I had three kids.

In a week of 7 days, extra stuff fills up the afternoons faster than I thought. What should they try? Dance? Piano? Gymnastics? Soccer? T Ball? …..

Swaying between doing nothing and too much, I let the Olympics inspire me this cold winter morning, and I signed up my flippy, head-standing, hands-walking son for gymnastics. It just felt right.

Ninja Training

Ninja Training

On the plus, the gymnastics teacher has tried out for American Ninja Warrior, one of my son’s actual dreams (he has trained by walking down the walls of the hallway, climbing door jambs, setting up courses in his room).

So it’s a go. And it works because it perfectly coincides with my daughter’s dance class. Knocking out two birds with one stone in one afternoon.

*Slow Exhale*

It’s a tough thing to be somewhat in charge of helping your child’s “dreams come true.”

I’m going with gut instinct and crossed fingers.

And lots of love.

Ice Skating Dreams, original photography

Ice Skating Dreams, original photography

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

-Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, Dream A Little Dream of Me

My Yellow Truck

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 7, 2014 — 1 Comment

So there’s this yellow truck…

I. Love. It.

I don’t know why…It’s just an old yellow truck that lives at the tire store across the street from my neighborhood. The tire people put it inside at night, and park it out front every morning. It’s big, it’s shiny, it’s very yellow. And I love it.

I try to take pictures of it every time I’m close enough, but could never get the whole thing. Finally, thanks to the patience of my daughter, and me looping around a few times in our car, I got the money shot. Well, sort of. There are always bushes blocking the front.

But I rigged it up with a few successful photos and variety of angles, and finally…FINALLY…I present to you my much-awaited “Yellow Truck,” 15×15″ pastel.

Yellow Truck, 15x15 pastel

Yellow Truck, 15×15 pastel

Intermission over, the curtains raise. The mother enters.

Scene 3: Piano & Jumper Cables

Another night passes and we find the mother once again fixing breakfast in the kitchen. Boosted by the happy ending of her suspendered adventure of the previous day, her outlook is bright.

The work day commences and comes to a well-ordered end in time to make an early carpool arrival – ensuring a timely appearance for her daughter’s second piano lesson. In line for half an hour, with snacks prepared and resting thoughtfulness underway, she sketches and thinks and waits.

Rear View Mirror Doodle, ink on napkin

Rear View Mirror Doodle, ink on napkin

Ah, the cars crank and brake lights glow. Ready for the slow crawl around the corner towards the school, she turns the key. Tick tick tick – nothing.

tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick – nothing.

Nothing, Nothing, NOTHING!!!!!

It’s too much. It’s the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

With wide, glazing eyes she waves the moving carpool line around her unmoving car. She calls her husband and her mother and her stamina fails.

She cries.

She sits in carpool line and cries. Pitiful.

Knowing the eagerly awaited piano lesson will be missed, she sits deflated and calls the instructor. But wait! Cancellations have been made and another lesson time is available whenever the mother can get there! Saved from the tears of her daughter on top of her own, another surprise approaches.

A kind stranger, circling back, pulls in front and signals for the mother to pop the hood. With jumper cables and an understanding smile, with his bouncing daughter watching from the back seat, he starts her car! Again, the mother cries, but this time overwhelmed by the kindness of others.

The day is saved and the mother carries on.

 

Scene 4: Sanitized Lungs

Night falls and the tired mother sinks into the couch, a glass of wine and a heated blanket. Surely, surely, that’s enough fun for one week. With an inner pep-talk, she tells herself that tomorrow is Friday…just plain Friday. Work and done.

Morning comes and father is ill.

With little sympathy where there should be more, the groggy mother impatiently fusses at father for not taking his medicine. Upon further discussion over medicinal locations, and the lack of discovery, she exclaims in short-tempered exasperation “You’re a MAN!!!” and stomps to the shower. Poor father, getting the brunt of a bad week at 6:00am.

With a haggard disposition and weary eyes, she puts her head down and pushes through the day. A pendulum of kindness and frustration, she tries to regain her balance and clarity. She takes father to the doctor, with three silly kids bobbing and chattering behind her.

Lysol

Lysol

The diagnosis seems a cruel joke: severe flu and bronchitis.

Father is settled onto the couch, as quarantined as one can get in a small home of five people. The mother takes a deep, careful breath and puts on another metaphorical hat, dosing medication and spraying lots of Lysol. A spaghetti dinner and chicken noodle soup are readily provided by friends, and the mother continues to scurry back and forth around the house, tidying and germ-killing and care-taking.

Sitting at her desk in the quiet of an afternoon family rest, the mother reflects upon the strange, yet ordinary stories of a long, long week. There always seems to be a snag, a hole, a bump, a crash that must be navigated. She knows you can’t change it, you just have to take what comes and find some humor in each adventure. It helps her carry on and find a warm spot to rest at the end of the day.

Curtain closes.

“Maybe we do the right things, maybe we do the wrong, spending each day, wending our way along. But when we want to sing, we sing. When we want to dance, we dance. You can do your betting, we’re getting some fun out of life.” -Some Fun Out of Life, Madeleine Peyroux

Tired Tiara, charcoal sketch

Tired Artist with Tiara, charcoal sketch

 

Check out the previous installments:

Such is Life, Act 4 part 1

Such is Life, Act 1

Such is Life, Act 2

Such is Life, Act 3

On Christmas morning, the family is gathered round the tree, sharing thoughtful gifts and making memories. We’re all there, my mom and dad, my three kids and husband, my sister, brother-in-law, my little niece and nephew. We’ve spent time and effort choosing meaningful gifts to share and enjoy.

Some of us may or may not be wearing some wonderfully horrible pajama shirts from the 80s, recently recovered from the attic. Some of us may or may not be wearing spectacularly tacky (and award-winning, I might add) Christmas sweaters. Some of us may or may not have received man-sized superman jammies, and home-made ties.

Let me pause a moment.

Yes, we are very silly. We had a jolly good time. Merry Christmas!

This year we introduced “Granny gifts.” You see, my Granny – whom I reference quiet often as passing down art and so much goodness into my life – she gave some terrible gifts. I mean it. One year, “the year of the beret,” she gave almost every girl a red fleece beret. It was a little weird (somehow I was overlooked..whew!). In her memory, we decided we would sneak in a Granny gift here and there, and you never know when it’s coming.

Switch back to the serious, sugary Christmas experience:

My sister is opening a small watercolor of her son on his tricycle. “Awwwww…” Then she opens a watercolor of her beloved Golden Retriever. “Ohhhh…Eloise!!!” Then a sketch of her baby girl. “Ooooohh, so cute!!!”

Then BAM. The Granny gift. A large, obviously framed, picture-sized gift awaits unwrapping. I can hardly contain myself. Snickering and rocking back and forth in my Christmas sweater, I watch her warily tear the paper.

What’s new pussycat?

It’s an ink and colored pencil portrait of my sister and Tom Jones – that’s right – riding a unicorn with a backdrop of rainbows. Boom.

Full Color

Full Color

I’m sure you have your share of inside jokes, and I’m sure my Facebook have been unable to avoid my sister and my “obsession” with harassing each other with Tom Jones. It all goes back to her move to Savannah, when she met her neighbor, the non-singer Tom Jones.

Upon hearing the name, I belt out in “She’s a Lady” and “What’s New Pussycat,” to her confusion and horror. She had never. heard. of. Tom. Jones. Flabbergasted, we first call mother and let her sing a few tunes, proving I am not the only weirdo around.

Then we proceed to google Tom Jones.

OMG.

The wealth of questionable pictures readily available on the web sparked a flood of fun. We text and post and share awkward Tom Jones photos with our own captions like there’s no tomorrow. You should try it, it’s fun. And if you’re looking for a treat for the eyes and the ears, just take a peek at this video (give it a minute, you won’t be sorry):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UxU8s7Au0A

Anyway, back to my story. I mean, how could I not create and give her such a treasure?! Oh, Tommy, what fun and joy you bring to our little lives.

The Sketch

 

A Few Doodles…

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 11, 2014 — Leave a comment

After a few weeks of intense commission completion, making sure the fur moved correctly and the eyes sparkled appropriately, I was ready for a few doodles.

The first doodle to share with you is a 5×7 watercolor of Jerusalem, a gift from my family to some friends who travelled with my husband to Israel last Spring:

Jerusalem, 5x7 watercolor commission

Jerusalem, 5×7 watercolor commission

My sister was the Christmas recipient of several watercolor and ink doodles to adorn her new built-in bookshelves. When I say “doodle,” I mean I didn’t take time to sketch first, or stick strictly to detail. I give myself more freedom and relaxation as I doodle away with a brush or pen!

Oh, but there is one more special treasure coming…stay tuned for the grand finale of doodles…

Furry Friends

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 9, 2014 — Leave a comment

While I’m parading pet portraits, here’s one more I did as a Christmas commission. In this pastel, I put two friends together from separate photos, two beloved pets who passed away recently. I was touched to hear on Christmas day that the gift was treasured, thoughtfully given and happily received!

Cottage Charcoal

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 7, 2014 — Leave a comment

This Christmas, I was honored to draw a very old cottage located in Americus, Georgia.It was an old civil war doctor’s office that was moved and restored into a one bedroom cottage.

It’s so fun to be a part of meaningful and lasting gifts!

Bear

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 5, 2014 — 2 Comments

You look out into the night. You see two shining eyes and a big tongue. It’s Bear. Not A bear, but Bear, my grandfather’s very large, very sweet, very black, very loved Belgian Sheepdog.

I had the privilege to draw this pampered dog for my Paw Paw’s Christmas present, given by his family. Here’s how it turned out:

Belgian Sheepdog, 9x15 pastel commission

Belgian Sheepdog, 9×15 pastel commission