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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

Time Goes By

Mary Liz Ingram —  May 10, 2013 — 2 Comments

We arrive in our Mazda 5, which we affectionately call the “mini mini space van.” I’m dressed in my skinny jeans, a loose silky top, my iPhone in my pocket ready to snap some pictures. We walk hand in hand, the kids, my mom, and I, down the street in downtown Birmingham towards the flickering sign of our destination. We wait outside the stage entrance with other families, shivering and huddled against the unexpected cold Sunday air. Most parents are holding phones…sending texts, posting Facebook photos of shivering ballerinas, tweeting a comment here and there about waiting. Finally the doors open and we usher our tiny dancers inside.

Walking around the corner, we follow the flood of locals into a glass foyer, moving slowly in the crush. The area opens to an atrium, and time seems to shift.

The crowd seems to change in my minds eye. The jeans, phones and sandals give way to an elegance from an era past, one of red lipstick and gloves.

Alabama Theater, original photography

Alabama Theater, original photography

The ornate ceiling is bathed in a golden light; rich, red velvet drapes archways and staircases. Moravian stars light up the mirrored accents; “As Time Goes By” drifts into my senses, played softly in the background. I was enveloped in a glowing, decadent atmosphere that transported me to the Alabama Theater’s heyday of the 1920s and 30s.

We make our way to our seats, and I take a moment to entertain the baby by, once again, exploring this beautiful space. We’ve been there several times before; in the Summer, the Alabama Theater plays movies like The Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Indiana Jones, and Cinderella, and they hold concerts and performances periodically. The impact of the place never gets old, never fades.

I took some photos of our visit, using a lens/film combination that brought out the richness of the place. I hope you enjoy:

For more info on the Alabama Theater, including its restoration, visit http://alabamatheatre.com/about-the-alabama/history/

You must remember this 
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. 
The fundamental things apply 
As time goes by.

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers, for especially in the month of June. There’s a wealth of happiness and romance, all in the golden afternoon. … 

-Alice in Wonderland

Honeysuckle Vine, Ink and Pastel Pencil sketch on paper

Honeysuckle Vine, Ink and Pastel Pencil sketch on paper

A quiet Saturday in May, we decided to take a stroll through the neighborhood. Our boy on his bike, Spiderman helmet secured; our eldest first trying out her roller skates, then after squeals and crashes, switching to her bike, sans training wheels; the baby in her stroller until Mommy’s hip sounded like such a better place to ride; Daddy helping the cyclists-in-training.

Golden Afternoon, original photography

The sun shining golden through the shade trees, heavily laden with rich green leaves, adds warmth to the unusually cool Spring day in Alabama. We wind our way in an unplanned pattern through the web of streets and sidewalks. As we’re admiring the fresh cut grass of a friend’s home, half-jealous as ours is still in need of a trim, a sweet scent teases our senses. Briefly caught on the soft breeze, the smell conjures immediate memories of childhood. For a moment, we are all enveloped in a completely carefree moment, gathering around the happily discovered honeysuckle vine, relishing the tiny drops of nectar that hide inside each flower.

A song floated into my mind on the tails of the honeysuckle vine, and I slowly spun and danced down the street singing it to my giggling dimpled baby girl, as the big kids successfully pedaled home. I noticed a neighbor on a porch mid-(not-so-graceful)- spin and, I’m sure, badly sung version of the Alice in Wonderland tune, but I shrugged off any embarrassment and continued our freely twirling walk home, experiencing for a moment that pure, open and innocent enjoyment of all the good things in life.

 

This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none. and this little piggy…went “wee, wee, wee!” all the way home…

Well, this little piggy was meant for market, and this little piggy found a new home. My fastest sale ever thanks to a lovely lady from the Birmingham area, he made a quick debut on Facebook and used his charm to find his own place in the world. He is a happy little fellow!

"Oink," 8x10 soft pastel on card, sold

“Pig #3,” 8×10 soft pastel on card, sold

While I was drawing this pig, I remembered a scene from my childhood…one of triumph and pride that I carried with me for quite some time. I confess, it’s been awhile since I thought of it. But how could I forget?!

It was the Alabama State Fair, circa 1985. I was there with my family, perched on my mom’s hip. I can still picture the scene, in that long-ago, fuzzy kid-vision we have of moments that make a great impression…the colors, the noise, the smell of hay. Continue Reading…

My grandparent's WWII Salt & Pepper Shakers

My grandparent’s WWII Salt & Pepper Shakers, original photograph

I was standing in the kitchen eating a good, homemade southern biscuit with a nice pat of butter in its middle, when my senses whisked me back to another house, another tasty biscuit, another just-melting-but-still-cold piece of butter.

My grandparent’s house, Birmingham, Alabama circa 1991: In front of me, at chest height while sitting, is my Granny’s oval dining room table, shiny with wood polish. Around the table, on rounded and puffed, aqua-upholstered, carved wooden chairs from an era past, sits my family – my Granny with her curly gray hair, my Grandaddy topped in a gloriously soft white tuft, my mom and dad, and my little sister with her freckles.

Eating my biscuit in my own kitchen today, I remembered how things were to be done at that family dinner table. In this formal Southern dining room with it’s sheer lace curtains, the African violets bloom in the window, and Granny’s pastel portraits of my four great grandparents hang in gilded frames upon a wall-papered backdrop. In this room, your mint iced teas must sit on the silver coasters, and the tiny salt and pepper shakers – brought home from France in WWII – are set within reach. The fresh biscuits are always served in the ventilated and covered red warming dish. Continue Reading…

When Cotton Whispers

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 18, 2013 — 2 Comments

“Art creates a kind of commentary” -Barbara Kruger

I live in the South. Sweet Home Alabama. The southern states of the US are full of a complex history, and for me, it is always strongly felt when I have the rare opportunity to gaze in stillness over a vast field of snow-white cotton.

Cotton Whispers, 24x36" soft pastel on board

Cotton Whispers, 24×36″ soft pastel on board

Stand with me a moment:

It’s a gleaming fall day in Alabama. The sky is brilliantly soft blue as the sun shines intensely at midday, lighting up the tufts of white cotton to full brightness. The grass is becoming dry, multicolored with the changing of season.

Behind me is your average gas station. We’ve stopped to fill up on our way home. You see, I’m a city girl, raised from age two in Birmingham, “the steel city,” the largest city in Alabama. We don’t have cotton fields nearby, and I have grown up in an age in which people don’t pick cotton by hand anymore. I’ve never seen people working fields with anything other than large farming machines.  Continue Reading…

1,000 Words

Mary Liz Ingram —  February 10, 2013 — Leave a comment

Sometimes a moment grabs you.

Your life is carrying on, business as usual. Then you look up, and, pow! An image, a person, a sound, a smell…it just gets you. It steals your attention away from the course of everyday life, and gives you pause. It’s a moment when your senses are flooded by emotion…nostalgia, gratefulness, love, perhaps sadness or pain.

I am working to soak in these unexpected treasures as they come. When I see my boy lining up snowballs, for instance, or I find him reading far after bedtime in his fort, I am thankful for the moment’s fullness; I snap a picture, and I create a piece of art to convey that moment that took hold of my heart.

It’s raining and thundering on this February Sunday. In my art room, I was irritably trying to muster the focus I needed to finish a planned pastel of a cotton field. My daughter quietly slipped into the room, and perched on a tall, yellow metal chair behind me. I turned to look at her, and saw her slowly smoothing a long silk scarf on her head as she watched the rain out of the window, dressed in a puffy pink tutu with her little feet propped up on the bottom rail.

She was beautiful. I soaked it in.

Rainy Day, pastel sketch on paper

Rainy Day, pastel sketch on paper

“A picture’s worth a thousand words”

 

Such is Life, Act Three

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 28, 2013 — 1 Comment

The lights dimmed and the curtain raised, the stage once again reveals the now-familiar, bustling family of five.

In the driveway of their small suburban home, the father is buckling the well-padded baby into her snug carseat, making skilled attempts to wiggle her arms through the straps, as she works hard to get them out. The mother pulls at jackets and lifts under arms, ushering the bundled older children into the back of car with their loads of explorer-worthy trappings. Finally, children strapped in place, the parents take their seats and the family van pulls onto the road.

It’s a vacation day: pancakes have been eaten, lazy sipping of coffee has ensued, relaxation has crept into this usually-busy group. It’s a crisp, sunny day and the normally scheduled, organized family feels the need for a bit of spontaneity.

Time for a family hike. Continue Reading…

Such is Life, Act Two

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 21, 2013 — 2 Comments

An intermission has ended, as the routine of life has been lived another week. The audience takes a seat once more, as the curtain is raised.

The stage, reset, now reveals a sunny winter’s day at the small home on the fringes of a bustling Southern city. The young working mother takes her place in the haven of leather armchair, a brief respite from the busy game of everyday life. On stage right, the baby naps in her crib. Stage left, the other children play together in a tango of happy cooperation and bossy annoyance.

Her head resting askew upon her supportive hand, the mother reminisces upon the events of a few days past, when the city slowed to a crawl. The spotlight centers on her place, as she recalls the day when the snow began to fall. Continue Reading…

Such is Life, Act One

Mary Liz Ingram —  January 16, 2013 — 5 Comments

Last weekend was a doozie. Sunday night about pushed me over the edge.

The curtain is raised. The stage is set:

Our story begins in a small house in southern suburbia. Alas, the sweet and ever-helpful husband is out of town on business, leaving a young working mother outnumbered 3 to 1 with the children. Friday night, darkness falls Continue Reading…