Showing posts with label
sparrow painting
.
Show all posts
Showing posts with label
sparrow painting
.
Show all posts
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Sparrow
Sparrow / Oil on black canvas / unframed / 5x7 / $68 including shipping
Sold!
AS I AM SITTING HERE
in the kitchen, posting this painting of this plain little sparrow (who I think is adorable), The Today Show folks are talking about the no-longer-Prince Harry and no-longer-Princess Megan.
For some reason, I begin to wonder if maybe, at one point, sparrows were the royalty of the bird world, and then they turned it down, walked away, leaving the glory to the eagles and cardinals and the other big, flashy, famous birds.
And now, they are just happy to be sparrows.
Seems possible, doesn't it?
***
FOR THOSE OF YOU
who receive this blog by email, I apologize about the illegibility of the Martin Luther King Jr. speech yesterday. If you want to read it - and really, it's worth it - please go to my actual blog -
carriejacobson.blogspot.com
- and you should be able to read it there. It took me forever to get it right on the site - never occurred to me that the emailed version would not change the type and background. Sorry!
***
For Today
"Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark."
-Radindranath Tagore
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Little Wing
Little Wing / oil on black canvas, 5x7, unframed, $68 including shipping
available - please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com
LAST NIGHT
, when I let the dogs out, I heard Canada geese calling, their cries ululating, thin, eerie, wavering loudly through the wintry air. They call me to the past, to other cold nights, in Idaho, in Montana, in Maine, nights that could not have been darker, more strewn with stars.
We picked out the easy constellations, watched the greenish dances of the Northern Lights, marveled at the distant glow and blur of the Milky Way, and counted dozens - or hundreds or thousands? - of meteors shooting across the black infinity.
And I thought that it would never stop. That these shared, clear nights would be as regular as the comings and goings of the birds, as typical, as predictable, as unending.
***
A Thought for the Day
GUY WILKINS WAS
an artist who lived here in Wachapreague. He died just about the same time we moved here, and I have always, always been sorry that I never met him, never painted with him.
Friends on the Shore here have paintings of his, and I wish I did, too. His paintings are bright and colorful, cheery and different and unusual. I have a postcard of one of the general store here in town, and I look at it almost daily, loving its color, its attitude and its odd perspective.
Guy Wilkins also wrote poems, and I'd like to share one with you here. It is from his book, "Day Moon."
Derelicts
What a full blown beauty you were
That day we first set sail
We had lavished every spar and every rail
With the best in varnish
And the brass we thought would never tarnish
And the gloss would never pale
Now look at you
Warped and twisted
Like the rest of us
With the brass we thought would never tarnish,
Tarnished
And the luster somehow vanished
Oh I wish they could have seen us
You and I, when we were young
To see paintings by Guy Wilkins, please visit
http://www.guywilkinsartist.com/
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