Spy 16x12 oil portrait

This is the second version of the mare I painted. I like both. Which do you prefer?

Today was an interesting day. I have a friend who is trying very hard to get into nursing school and there is a course that is giving her some troubles. I guess it is not "some" troubles but alot of troubles and her fear of receiving a passing grade is beginning to stress her out. In every major conceivable way.

I thought alot about her troubles today and how her plans for a new future are hitting a rough patch. I know in the end she will achieve her goal. She is a natural "nurse". Even if she doesn't believe in herself I do. She is a determined smart woman who is very focused. That focus can carry people over mountains.

Sometimes that journey to our goals gets pretty rocky. Sometimes we can't see those rocks and we continue on because it is expected of us. Society today demands that you "suck it up" and continue on regardless of the pain it causes you. So you keep walking on that rocky road, your feet are torn and bloody but your smiling because you're expected to be a team player.

I think this is a ridiculous notion. Not the team player part but the continuing on in a miserable situation instead of saying

"Enough is enough. I hate this situation and I am not going to take it anymore."

As a mature student my friend is putting alot on the line. She knows her present situation is not the right path for her and she has made a choice to go another route. Even though this new route is fraught with financial difficulties, family stresses and huge nagging moments of self doubt all combined with college systems that do not support mature students with bursaries and a student aid system set up to aid only 18-21 year old mature students still struggle forward.

Why?

My own personal opinion is that mature students have learned they have value. They are a resource that is being left untapped and previous employers have lost sight of or neglected to use this important sector of their business. Neglect and abandonment causes people to become restless and mobile.

The local College in my area has an increasing enrollment and the latest numbers are to my mind rather shocking. Forty percent of the student body is mature. Mature being someone who has already graduated high school and has entered the workforce. Forty percent is huge.

Our college is small with an enrollment of 1000 students but let's put this in perspective for you. Forty percent of 1000 is 400.

That is 400 individuals who have left the workforce.

That is 400 previously trained mature responsible employees who are no longer in the workplace. Does their employer miss them? You bet he does.

If you were to hear on the news that a company shut down putting 400 local people out of work wouldn't that raise your hackles? It should. I'll bet some of you have even been involved in protests about lost jobs, but where is the support for the mature student returning to school?

Mature students who enter the education system are a welcome change to the professors who find their focus and determination an enjoyable change to the self righteous indifference of many of the young people. Mature students are more apt to volunteer in school organizations lending an experienced ear and voice of wisdom. Mature students know they have value yet here they become just as neglected as they were in the "real" world.

The demographics of our society are changing just like the enrollment of colleges but there is little in the ways of aid for them. Society feels that their assets should be liquidated, all their earnings, in some cases decades worth, should be given up to fuel their educational dreams. Mature students have families who live in those "liquidatable" assets.

Mature students have already proven they are reliable and trustworthy as they have extensive credit histories. Why not give them aid? You know they will pay you back. They have already proven they can.

With our aging demographic approaching record numbers of people leaving the workforce to enter into retirement, who is going to replace all that lost knowledge? Has no one considered this hidden segment of society? Would raising a cry of age discrimination get you booed out of a debate?

My friend has another 34 years of work history ahead of her yet she is trying to enter into and complete her nursing degree completely unaided. Our country is going to need new educated faces like hers in the workplace. Ones with a few years of real life experiences to me would seem like a great investment.

When you graduated high school 45 years of work experience seemed like a lot. Any 18 year old will agree there is little difference between 45 and 34. To them that is a long time. So why has it become acceptable to ignore an ever growing segment of our society that realizes their true value and is determined to better themselves? Their efforts not only help them personally but their efforts ensure their communities are filled with knowledgeable people who can afford to stay in the Maritimes and resist the cry of "Go West Young Man".

Did I waste an afternoon considering the trials and tribulations of mature students?

I think not.

There are 400 of them in our community right now contemplating the results of their actions. It took 300 Spartans to leave their mark on history, imagine what these 400 could do.

Pam's Spy Private Collection Oil Portrait

Commissions are great fun when you have a great client. Actually almost all my commissions have been great fun. I have been able to meet some really cool people and try some new and interesting subject matter.

The above painting is one I did for a woman who had a really nice mare she wanted painted. She did not have any really good photos and she knew I was a former equine photographer. As luck would have it she was showing this mare in my back yard so to speak, so off I went with my camera in tow.

The mare was lovely and the day was perfect and I was able to get several really nice photos of her. It came down to two pictures that I was really enamoured with and so Pam said

"You choose."

Oh wow, are you kidding?????

The only demand on this comission was that it was of this palamino mare. I got to choose the style, form, medium and photo. What more could an artist ask for?? True bliss!

As it was, I could no more make a choice than the owner so I painted two versions of this portrait and once again left it up to her to choose. Both were beautiful but in the end she chose the above image. I felt it really captured her well.

I think that about the other painting too!!

Guess Who?

Leonardo DaVinici 7x5 oilPortrait

Right now my son is outside watching the sky to see what the end of the world looks like. What faith our children have in us!

Yes I know, this is in fact another human. I spend 30+ years avoiding the human form and in the span of 2 months create 3. There truly must be an apocalypse on the way. I am pretty sure if one was to stand by DaVinicis' grave one would feel a rumbling about the soil. That would be the great master himself rolling about shuddering in disbeleif at my rendition of his form.

Sorry dude, I did my best.

I remember when I used to have my photography business and how I loved photographing the horses. They didn't complain about the light making them look fat or that I didn't get their good side. When that statement was made to me by several of the riders it was all I could do not to bite my tongue off to prevent the response,

"You have one?"

Once I photographed a very green 5 gaited Saddlebred and the trainer saw the photo and wanted it as they were trying to sell the horse. When the trainer returned with the owner in tow she stood flabbergasted and slack jawed at the picture. The trainer and I were thrilled by the action of the horse and her perfect symmetry in motion. We both knew it would be a very marketable shot. The owner/rider in the photo almost had an apoplexy on the spot and began ranting about what a horrid picture this was. The trainer and I were confused, the photo showed the talent of the horse and the potential to do higher level showing, not to mentioned made her look like a 6 figure horse.

All the owner saw was herself.

Apparently she felt my duties included making her look like a super model (which she wasn't) and reconstructing her facial features to make her appear less constipated ( I suspect was an issue).

Needless to say I did not make the sale. I did however get future work from the trainer who had no aspirations at being on the cover of Italian Vogue and I learned that dealing with people was not always a pleasant expereince.

Which is one of the reasons I have always said I will never paint people. They tend NOT to be honest. I guess "never" is a relatively short period of time and I have had fun painting these folks, especially since I will never have to hear them complain that I did not make them look like Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie.

There's a mouse in the house dear Liza!

This was the scene outside my door this am. Beautiful and crisp and clear it gave me hope for the coming day. It was all the more beautiful considering the event of the evening prior.

I was in my room contemplating the difference between velocity and acceration and trying to discern if there was an applicable real life happenstance so that I may understand this concept more clearly. Physics and clearer thinking are not two events that coincide in my noggin so when I heard my son yell from downstairs I almost dismissed him. Then he yelled again,

"Mom there's a mouse in my bed!"

The calculation of displacement using a directional component paled in comparison to this new adventure. I ventured forth to my sons room expecting my children to be partaking in some sort of jest. I am usually the object of their pranks, which is ok. I cook. Sometimes I make them eat tofu. I figure it all equals out in the end. We'll know for sure when I am elderly if they ever visit me or not.

So I enter the room in which Anna stands behind her big brother and Connor is watching his bed with an unveiled look of disgust and mortifiacation.

"It's in my bed." Not on, around or near...in.

"Are you sure it is a mouse?"

An ungentlemanly snort erupts from his 13 year old countenance and he replies with total beleif,

"I saw it's beady little eyes MOM. It scurried ACROSS my bed." He crossed his arms in defense and stood glaring at the bed. He was offended that something small with beady eyes would dare to "scurry" anywhere near his abode.

Did you ever notice that when we dislike anything it has beady eyes and it scurries? I Never imagined the Black Stallion scurrying across the white sands to Alex Ramseys whistle. I don't have to image Connors disgust, it is plainly visible. I tried to interject a life lesson about the correlation between Connors room being the messiest in the house and the appearance of said scurrying beastie. Like me and physics, the lesson whistled over my kids head without even the slightest rustle of hair.

You see, Con is a bird guy. If it has 2 legs, 2 wings, feathers and a beak it is the ultimate in cool. Apparently if it is small has beady eyes and scurries it is not.

Not quite beleiving there is a scampering mouse in my new house I begin by pulling of the comforter. The kids quickly and in unison step back. No mouse.

"Its there Mom." It is so charming that he believes this but can't grasp the concept of cleaniness being next to Godliness.

I am trying to imagine if a mouse has constant velocity and if he travels in meters per second as I lift up the mattress.

Connor shrieks pointing and Anna zooms out the door all the while I'm holding the mattress in search of the offensive scurrierer and wondering if the matress qualifies as a freely falling object and if in fact it's accelration rate of -9.81 m/s squared (-....directional component...I know physicists are nuts!) would kill said mouse or just render it younger (- velocity....??).

Yes his eyes are beady. And yes the little bugger scurries with constant velocity and accerates infuriatingly well.

Now let me tell all you non parents out here a little known fact about the males of the human species. We may think we live in a civilized society, regale ourselves in History about our brutal ancestors (I have French and Scot in me...not a real peaceful combo) and we all brag about how far we have come in our peaceful times BUT add a mouse into a young mans personal space and let me tell you the testosterone level will spike.

All that barbarity you thought you left behind with your 7x great great grandfather will come roaring back with a vengence in the form of your sons coming of age rite.

Man vs mouse. The epic battle.

Being a mother means you carried said child for about nine months and learned some modicum of patience. It is 9 pm and I know the local feed store that will sell me mouse traps and poison is going to open up in the morning. My son however, now beginning to understand the concepts of physics and the quickly changing directional components of mice and their ability to accerate over your feet as you clobber your own digit with a broom, has become a warrior before my eyes. I now understand why my forefathers were booted out of Scotland for supporting Bonnie Prince Charlie. If Connor is any indication, we were death with brooms.

Connors mode was predatory and his focus was Mr Beady Eyes. Vaguely aware that my constant nagging about cleaning his room is hindering his attempts at a victory over this foreign invader to his demense I have to duck as a pair of gubby socks are flung with disregard to my personal hygeine at my head.

Realizing with a maturity that Connor won't attain for another 30 years I return to my room to ponder the amount of displacement that said mouse is creating in my sons room. As I study the difference between displacement and actual distance travelled I am envisioning total destruction of my sons room within seconds. The noise is loud enough to have me considering the insertion of ear plugs when Anna arrives announcing that she is camping out on the living room couch becasue she is not sleeping anywhere the beady little mouse might be.

Soon after a disheveled and somewhat tired young warrior announces his intent to sleep in the spare room. His bird cage is under his arm. Apparently Simon is offended too.

The really funny thing is that Connor does not seem to be mad about the mouse being in his room as so much disgusted that it touched his bed. That its mere presence is enough to start a plague. So my young warrior retires to bed. The little princess snores softly on the couch and the damn bird sharpens his beak on the cuttle bone all night.

I know I'll never be able to envision Physics without the assistance of Mr. Beady Eyes.

The Pre Race Warm Up 16X20 Oil

It has been a while since I have been able to post a completed painting. I would love to say that I have been whisked away on some lively foreign adventure but truth be told my time is not my own lately. Some days I only get a minute essence of time to work in the studio and I miss it like crazy!

This painting is based on one of a series of photos I took during Truro Raceway's Grand Circuit Week last year. The evening this photo was taken was one of those luscious times when the evening light was rich and beautiful and the contrast between light and dark was extreme.

Have a great Thanksgiving. I am looking forward to having a huge meal on the table, complete with our own farm raised Turkey (not Connor's Lurkey!!) our own potatoes, carrots, squash and, of course, decadent Velvet Lush cake!

May your festivities be full of great food and wonderful company.

Take care and happy holidays.

Bird in hand

I love working with kids and teaching them new skills. They are open to new expereinces and their excitment is geniune. They usually know when something is not working and they abandon it while the rest of us "mature" folk struggle on with the futile hope that with enough effort we can succeed.

Success is not the goal.

My son had his market turkey project come to fruitition and while he was competitive he did not qualify for the auction. I was disappointed for him. I feared he would see this as a failure.

I needn't have worried. He took it in stride completely non plussed about the situation and telling me his plans for the next years competition. As I listened to him I wondered how as an adult we lose that acceptance of circumstance and move on without taking it to a personal level.

I know a young woman, who in truth aggravates the daylight out of me. She is disruptive, rude and selfish. She states her personal beleifs in great detail as if the rest of the world should come to great screeching halt. Several other friends have agreed that taking a post maul to her over inflated ego would be an appriopriate course of action. I am inclined to agree.

Then I wonder, she was probably like many of the young people I have worked with in the past. Passionate about thier interests and desiring to be accepted. Praying that others do not see them as odd and as a result some grow into aggressive snappy individuals.

Somewhere along the way this critter lost her support system. Or maybe she just squacked enough that no one will speak up for fear of being buried in her non stop flow of verbal diarrhea. Maybe if someone had nicely reminded her that she should remember that God gave her twice as many ears as mouths maybe she would have ranted less.

Maybe I will remind her of that anatomical lesson next time she begins another of her socially disruptive tirades. If that fails I have friends who prefer plan two.

Arranged marriages

Gorgeous George - Bluefaced Leicester Ram

You want me to do what? With who??
Marty, Clun Forest Ram

It is that time of year. The time where shepards start the process of dreaming. When they begin that first step in a long journey where they pray their well thought out plans can be become reality.

This is a time of wonderment and hope. You hope you will get perfect woolie little bundles of joy bounding about your paddocks in March. You wonder if it will ever happen after you observe two maiden (virgin for the vulgar) sheep bound like rocket blasters in opposite directions of each other.

Bella, our Purebred Clun Forest ewe was introduced to her "husband" and the result was NOT something that would burn up the pages of any romance novel. Marty, the chosen groom, being as virginal as she, decided to channel his inner gopher and tunneled his way out of his love nest to join Gorgeous George and his harem in the neighboring paddock. I guess Marty missed that day at sheep school. I am sure he broke many laws, including mine which is a big one.

Don't break the g#$ D*&n fences.

Poor Bella, she stood stranded in her paddock, abandoned at the alter of love as Marty gleefully bounded around Precious, Abbey and Eve. George paid little attention because as the experienced older male he knew he had to wine and dine the girls first if he ever wanted to acheive a grand slam.

Marty repeated the "Gopher" routine for two more days until we finally erected a wooden fence somewhat sturdy enough to prevent further escapes from his imagined Alcatraz. Poor Bella, all dressed up and the boys don't even know she's there. Reminds me of many a high school dance. Yikes! I feel your pain Bella!

Gorgeous George however is the apple of my eye and apparently Eve's as her bottom is now a very bright and vibrant fire engine red from all of Georges amourous attentions. One ewe down 3 more to go!

George is a former 4H Champion and a Blueface Leicester Ram who'se body is adorned with tight curls, the like of which would make angels weep. It is like having a Ram in Armani as far as this shepard is concerned. I have particular high hopes for the offspring from George and Precious as her fleece won 3rd place at the Provincial Fleece Competition this year. With my luck, the gopher will sneak in and I will not get my dream lamb, but some dark face ram that has a fleece not even a carpet maker would love!

But one must remember that this is a season of hope and joy at what the future could bring, as long as your name is not Bella!