Archives For story

One-armed bendy Santa, charcoal and conte sketch

One-armed bendy Santa, charcoal and conte sketch

On the third day of Christmas sketches…

We all like something weird, some little trinket that strings along memories that other eyes can’t see. It holds sentimental value like a treasure, though it may be locked away in the trivial shell of an old toy.

Each year as I pull out decorations, there are a few pieces that stand out more than others; a few that I dig around for, searching through attic-musty tissue papers in the Christmas box. My one-armed bendy Santa is one of those oddly precious objects.

He has a wonky, yellowed beard, mismatched painted eyes, and an excellent wooden cone hat. He’s one of those toys where you push the round base from below and it makes the figure slump, then you release it and he pops back up. He’s old and you can tell…he was part of my paternal grandmother’s collection, and he has been around my whole life.

Now, this is the grandmother who was an artist. She taught me the basics of art and let my cousins, sister and I have regular, free-for-all craft time at her house. She was quirky, inventive, interesting and fabulous. And she collected EVERTHING: rocks, bells, books, flowers, these little toys…you name it. She had a room in which the walls were completely covered in framed family photos (aka “the picture room”).  I apparently get the urge to collect and create from her, along with a lot of other quirks that my sister likes to point out. Ha!

Anyway, this little cockeyed, one-armed bendy Santa makes me think of her, my delightfully eccentric grandmother, and it warms my heart each Christmas.

3 French Hens

3 French Hens

Layers of Life

marylizingramart —  November 11, 2012 — Leave a comment

Ah, the complexities of life. We all have a story, layered with triumphs, tears, mistakes, redemption, tragedies, success, joy and pain. Most of our stories are hidden behind our personas, whether they be smiling faces or bitter scowls; woven so tightly together that the layers are unseen, making up one image. These thoughts were on my mind as I created my newest piece, a 16×20 cotton boll in soft pastel. I begin my pieces with under layers of dark black followed by bright colors: turquoise, fuchsia, purple, bright green, gold:

Continue Reading…

Thistle

marylizingramart —  April 21, 2011 — Leave a comment

 

About a week ago, while running errands with my family, on a persistent whim I decided I wanted one of the several thistles scattered along the shoulder of the road. As with most “whims,” there was not much reason for it…I just saw a tall, spiky, blooming thistle and became briefly obsessed with pulling one out of the ground. Partly driven by nostalgia, remembering a trip from my youth when my parents pulled over and showed my sister and I a thistle, partly driven by an “educational opportunity” for my own children (and humor at hearing my daughter say “thithle” with her slight lisp), and partly driven by an artistic impetus, I cajoled my husband into making two loops on a busy road so I could pop out of the car and pull up my coveted thistle.

It was one of my finer moments: dressed in nice clothes, climbing out of a little mini van, carrying a brightly striped child’s pullover (for spike-protection), dashing down a weed covered hill, watched by a whole intersection of onlookers merging off and onto the interstate, I quickly yanked up a thistle before scurrying back to the car with my strange prize. I’m sure I looked totally normal…

When I got close to my chosen thistle, which was much larger than I expected, I had a moment of panic that after all this trouble, in front of all these anonymous commuters, I wouldn’t be able to pull it up, and there I would be tugging in vain before retreating to the car in shameful surrender. To my relief, it came up with a quick snap.

My thistle has been blooming steadily all week in it’s little jar of water and giving me lots of opportunity to draw it, observe it, and reflect upon why I am fascinated by this odd plant.

At once both soft and jagged, with downy coverings and serrated thorns; both beautiful and dangerous, with soft red tufts of flower tempting the touch, while fingers must weave cautiously through the plentiful thorns. Strikingly harsh with it’s stiff, sharp leaves, and artistically intriguing with it’s curving, striated stems and colorful urns of flower. An unlikely place to find beauty, grace found among thorns.

Here are my impressions/studies of the thistle; I plan on trying it again soon with some different techniques.

3 Studies of a Thistle, 5×7 soft pastel on card coated with pastel ground