Murals and decorative painting: 1991 to 2010

 

As with window painting, mural and decorative painting is always subject to the expectations of those who have commissioned the work. While not inclusive of all of the work (example: the Todd County museum also commissioned many murals for interior dioramas and displays, which are not displayed here) during the years of roughly 1991 to 2010, this is a fair representation. Missing are also a large mural painted for the kids waiting area at the Long Prairie CentraCare Clinic. Remodeling was done around this mural several times but the area is no longer a clinic. Several murals were completed for the St. Mary's education center and this, too, is no longer used. The large military airplane mural, as well as a large eagle and decorative painting were created for the Long Prairie VFW and this building was demolished several years ago.

The painting of the dinosaurs in two little boys bedroom are memorable as an artistic failure. Those little boys, depicted riding the dinosaurs, thought that when the painting was finished the dinosaurs would come off the wall and they could really ride them! Art can only go so far in meeting  expectations.

Window painting: decade of the 1990s

 Window painting may not seem like a serious pursuit for an artist. Yet this exercise in painting in public, in atmospheric variables, and with time limitations, was valuable time spent in creative development.

Watercolors 1992

 

It was another two glorious hours spent in the woods this morning! I've been working in roughly the same part of the woods for the last two weeks. There are so many trees down from either natural falls or cuts. It provides a great workout.

An owl hooted from the far corner of the land when I went out. I saw wood chips beneath a large tree but no tracks and realized a woodpecker had been foraging for food. The rabbits, squirrels and deer have been very busy leaving tracks in the 3-4 inches of snow.

My difficulty of the day was that both chainsaws' chains came off several times. The good part is that I've become proficient at putting them back on out there in the woods.

 

My Woodlot Transformation

It was the 12^th month of Covid isolation, or the 8^th, or maybe some other time designation related to the virus that had overtaken everyone on earth. There seemed to be no agreement on when it started, or even where, for sure.

I looked out on our woodlot, an area that encompassed perhaps a third of our 40 acres, and saw the fallen trees and branches mixed in with the healthy leafless trees of December. Was it within my physical ability to take on this woodlot’s cleanup as my new fitness program? Might that be the perfect way to keep my mind occupied while the world whirled on? Would a project seemingly larger than myself keep the stresses of Covid, a rabid political climate in the whole United States, and winter’s usual dark days at bay?

I was a veteran of jogging, walking, step aerobics, Curves, Snap Fitness and line dancing. Besides the fact that I felt uninspired by the lack of meaningful products from time spent in these activities, the virus did not allow much of anything except jogging, which my hip replacement no longer allowed, and walking which didn’t produce the effects I wanted.

But as I looked out the window that day, I saw a long-term project that would show daily accomplishment. I would be outside in the sunshine. The woods would reflect my time spent and exhibit piles of branches and tidy stacks of wood. But was I up to it?

I had used a chainsaw only once. It was a small gas saw with a 12 inch rotating chain blade. I wore a hooded sweatshirt with a string to cinch the hood. Somehow the motor swallowed the end of the string and quickly wound it up tight, bringing the rotating blade within inches of my face. Of course it was my lack of safety knowledge in using such a tool that made using it dangerous. I don’t recall if the string choked the motor or if I managed to hit an off switch. I wasn’t hurt but I was a modicum wiser. I was also fearful of using a chainsaw when others could do it safer and with more skill. Which I allowed them to do for at least another 25 years.

In 2020, though, there were an assortment of chainsaws in the family, one of which was lightweight, battery operated, and made noise only when the trigger was activated. At eight pounds, the saw wasn’t so heavy as to make it difficult to manipulate yet it could provide a workout. Perfect.

Other women had also demonstrated to me that we could handle a chainsaw if the proportions were right. My daughter Chelsea wielded a small chainsaw with the aplomb of a woodswoman. Daughter Dawn had her own saw. My friend Sharon was 81 and along with a similarly aged female friend had used a small chainsaw to clean up a fallen tree in her yard. Retired teacher Reta had taken on a project of cleaning up an abandoned 8 acre park and she worked at it summer and winter.

The woods was there and the chainsaw was within reach. But I was 67 years old, overweight, out of shape, and full of excuses if I wanted to make them. But I needed a daily workout and decided this would be it. 

Corvus and Covid

     Corvus, the crow, has taken on the persona of Covid-19, the virus. The watercolor series  processing the 2020 viral pandemic now includes a dozen images. This series grows weekly as the social isolation and distancing continues.

Price gouging, scams and lies

Regional governors form a cohort to deal with the virus. Minnesota's governor Walz emerges as a leader.

A tribute to those lost to the virus.

New cranes added to the flock!

There are extraordinary additions to the crane flock! I am absolutely delighted, charmed, excited by their presence!

You might wonder why I put so much time and effort into the stories of cranes. I might wonder as well. But they really do captivate me and I get immense enjoyment from seeing what that little flock does.

This weekend we hosted the annual deer hunt. Since all family members made their way home for a few days, we celebrated Thanksgiving, too. During a few free hours, Beth, my primary crane maker, set up a card table and along with other volunteers, magically transformed small pieces of paper into miniature white cranes. There were even a few butterflies, a box, and a ball of origami origin. The grandkids got involved when Beth got out the acrylic paint, pans in which to pour paint and dip cranes, and a few brushes to encourage the paint in proper directions.

Red cranes, green cranes and a few marbled cranes and butterflies gathered in a safe place where they could dry and not fly before they were ready. Beth very carefully, with a small brush, gave these cranes white eyes and yellow beaks. After that coat of paint dried, she added black pupils in the tiny eyes and then, with a single hair, added white highlights.

With the hubbub of the “holiday,” I didn’t see where the cranes went, until the next day. I went into my studio and found little flocks of two or three red cranes near the crow on the window sill above my desk; three red ones on the east window sill; four green ones behind a foam-core box; and more grouped in ones and twos on the little vases standing on the west window sill (these from a recent small flowers in small vases painting series). One bold crane landed on the shoulder of a ceramic bust of Artemis and is looking upward with adoring eyes. One is on the spout of a Grecian urn. I even found a few blue ones. Three are jostling for position on a candle holder. One red one and one blue one crowd the top of a silver vase which holds an American flag.

Boy are there new crane stories to tell in watercolor! I can hardly wait to get started!