somepinkflowers

haiku my heart with history

joan of arc heard them
voices deep inside her head
& so she saved france

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~~~for more delicious haiku my heart
with
recuerda mi corazon,
please, pop in over here~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

{{  recently finished reading this book
and enjoyed it tremendously... who knew?   }}

 

tourist tuesday and the natural history museum, london

Quickly, quickly come with me down Cromwell Road.

Imagine you are the great, great, grand niece of Audubon, or the far but fond cousin of Darwin.

Mind the small ones as we field*trip over here!

Fair warning:  If birds in cages give you grief, turn back!

Whilst we are not visiting all 90 million specimens housed at the Natural History Museum, remember this is no zoo.

Embrace the scientist that is in your heart and walk with me through the Bird Wing of the Museum.

The Bird Wing!

I know, I know!
But it is here that we learn to call the bits & pieces by their name.

Crissum.
Rectrices.

We look eye-to-eye with wondrous creatures from the past.

We get up-close-and personal with the everyday.

We watch future Audubons at work.

Maybe this one cannot travel to the jungles of Africa to capture her subject.
{{ Her water smuggled inside a recycled plastic bottle unless she paints with apple juice. }}

Here is the cousin of the ones that mate under the full moon near my own bedroom window.

Even in this state, the feathers call to me to touch.

Behind glass they perch and soar. They waddle and list.

I image that if I worked in London I would want to work here.

Unless, maybe, I could obtain a dream*job dressing windows down the road over here.

This place is a Noah's ark of dead things, I know.

Still I am drawn here time and time again.

It is here I think upon the poor dodo.

Also, I worry about the species that are disappearing even as I type this word.

Some birds I have at home but here they let me openly adore.

Another artist hard at play. This one with colored pencil.

I imagine how he spends his day.
Sitting in his own chair brought from home.
Coloring.

"On my way to draw the owls, dear!" he shouts out to his wife as she weeds her garden. Or maybe she is over at Hyde Park sketching the fresh & tall digitalis.

Down the hall school children are laughing.

But, here, now, there is the quietness of respect.

Always remember to look up and down the hall.
Here we could see everything, if only we had time.

I leave you with the blue-winged kookburra and dreams of northern Austrailia.

Diversity!
I am so in love with it.

 

haiku my heart with foreign films!

international!
HOLY subtitles, Batman!!
right in my wee town!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~for more delicious haiku my heart
with
recuerda mi corazon,
please pop in over here~~~

~~~~~~~
How many films can One watch in 4 days?

{{ St Augustine Film Festival }}

making medium muffins

Straight away let me tell you this----> You are not perusing a tutorial on Encaustic Anything.

Everything I learned about encaustic painting I did learn from this one over here.

What you are reading now is a Love Story~~a waxy crush, if you will~~ started sometime ago by this one.

I am besotted with this part--->
the way one can, embed with wax, giving things a dreamy look...

From time to time I photograph my somewhat artistic endeavors and share them here but tutorials are bothersome for me due to: 

1. Details.
2. Interruptions.

I am not so keen of measuring things exactly, growing up next to my grandmother as I did, where we eyeballed most thingies in the recipe department.

Grandmother's Egg noodles:

• Pile some flour on the counter and make a well in it with a spoon.
• Crack open a brown egg and drop the inside parts into the flour well.
• Fill up one half of the egg shell with water and pour the water in the well.
• Throw away all egg shell bits unless an egg*shell art*project is planned.
• Sprinkle with a dash of salt and, maybe, some bits of fresh parsley.
• Knead from the outside in to make a plump yellowish ball.
• Roll out and cut into lengths using a sharp knife.
• Let noodles dry over a wooden spoon held in place over the counter with a heavy Mason jar filled with dried field peas.
• At dinner*time simmer noodles in chicken broth until tender.
• Eat.
• Yum.

The above is not my Grandmother's Egg noodles.   It is a slab of beeswax.

Whilst writing this posting thus far I have been interrupted by phone by my mom, who will be 89 on Thursday, who lives 2 towns away in an Assisted Living Facility, who thinks every day she is still at work at the local high school from whence she retired about 25 years ago...

"I had to work yesterday on a holiday!"my mom complains, referencing Martin Luther King Day. "We ALL had to work over here even though the news was all over the TV!"

Having learned the way her mind works these days I go ahead & jump right in.

"I am so sorry you had to work, Mom!" I answer, a heartfelt & true ~loving daughter. "Everyone there knew that you could be trusted to run things while they were off."

"It was a day of service, Mom. You did a great service. You will get off next time and someone else will take a turn." I am on a roll here, getting into useful deception. It helps to have a creative mind sometimes.

"Plus, Mom, you got paid 2 times your normal pay!" I am out~and~out making things up now.

"Well, OK!" she says feeling wealthier.

So.
No tutorials from moi.

Let me just say this--->
You need to melt in  Damar Resin with the beeswax in order to keep it stable for painting. Stronger. Something like that.

I like the witchy mixing up of things, melting away on the burner. I enjoy the getting~ready~to~proceed parts.

Mostly I long for a cauldron.

I am hoping Damar Resin is a sustainable resource.
It often contains wee bugs and twigs like lovely Old Russian Amber.
{{ I love that it does.}}

The mixture must be strained, although, I rather like The Odd  Dark Thing swimming around in my wax.

Not one thing in the world smells as good as beeswax melting.
Unless it is sugar cookies, with a touch of cardamon, baking.

In my garage studio I keep the door wide open to safely ventilate.
Birds fly in sometimes to see what is up.

As my wax medium muffins cool I see the world reflected in my efforts.

Each one is filled to the top with possibilities galore!

On a cool day the wax sets quickly.

Each little muffin will go on to Bigger Things.

Don't they look yummy!

What happens next to the wax, you want to know? Some will be introduced to color.

This is one of my little encaustic paintings right here. But I need to motor.

Gene, who cuts my grass religiously and with much enthusiastic energy, wants to talk with me about Early Poison Ivy Control Methods.

We will see.
We will see.

If you get an art crush on wax or want to see more dreamy encaustic paintings:  Do pop in over here and tell Judy I said hello.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PS--If you thought you saw my naked foot up there in this photo, well, you did.

Yes, I know I was standing on a cold concrete floor in the winter*time.

Yes, I know I was standing near melting Hot Wax. Yikees!

I think better with my shoes off. What is a girl to do?

 

{{ hiding in the studio but here is a hint }}

{{ I will give no more hints but this one --->
beeswax is involved in the nicest way! }}