And reaching way up high

I take the paint brush in my hand

And dip it in the sky

Then I take that color

And brush it on the white

It makes the sky I love to see

So purple bluey bright

Next I take a wider brush

And sweeping with my hand

I gather up the colors

That I see upon the land

Russet, Ocher, Umber

Purple is there too

I stroke them on the paper

Making ground beneath the blue

Finally I finish up

With lines and dots and z’s

Gray, blue, green, yellow, and red

I wash in leaves and trees

Last I mark my signature

And with another day

Love is turned to beauty

Isn’t that Love’s way?

Imagine, imagine
Can you imagine?
Pretend you’ve been sleeping
Quiet, drifting
In the soft blackness
Without sensation
Now awaken only awareness
Imagine movement
Being propelled forward
By some vast force
Benevolent with wisdom
Awareness of vision
Blinding vast beauty
Celestial stardust swirling and sweeping
In colors that touch you
And power that streams
Through your innermost being
Yet all this creation
Pales in significance
As the Magnificent One
Is manifested

Imagine, imagine
Can you imagine?
His presence is in you
Around you and through you
With startling brilliance
A nova is born
The light and the glory
Are eclipsed
By His laughter
How can I hold this much joy in my soul?

Imagine, imagine
If you can imagine
Then maybe you’ll glimpse
This God I have known
Still a great mystery
Beside the history
Of infinite God
In human form

Imagine, imagine
Continued perception
Reveals a connection
An overarching connection
Through time and through space
For all of creation
Both matter and spirit
Are networked in wonder
Through one great design
I feel I am spinning
Within this complexity
Surrounded, cocooned
In eternal light
Mathmatics and Music
Science and Drama
Dancing and Painting
Propelling me on in perpetual song
My spirit grows quiet
Love rocks me gently
Waves of soft pounding
Shores of my heart
Am I a child
In the womb of time
About to be born?

In the stillness
I hear your love song
Love need not return
When you are never gone

Meet Tom Copella, another amazing artist, trying his hand at his first stump bear carving.

Meet Robin Boni, fabulous carver and artist, who joined to sculpt a third stump bear.

Rick led the way, blocking in the form with preliminary cuts.

Tom and Robin followed, shaping their own creations and adding to the song of the humming chainsaws.

The sawdust flew, the sun warmed the yard, and the men continued their rustic dance. Three bears emerged from the woods and I, Greylocks, enjoyed the spectacle with mountain air and coffee.

Tom began to add detail to his bear’s head using the tip of the chainsaw.

Rick took time to demonstrate techniques to hold the chainsaw for the best control and endurance.

Here we are, Graylocks and Tom with Baby Bear. It is the first day of my artist’s retreat and I feel I’ve entered the most fantastic modern fairy tale. There is so much to see and experience, new art forms, mediums, and a rich resource of talented warm people.

Thank you, guys, for your inspiration! You are truly living your motto here at the studio and generously sharing it with me. I can’t wait for tomorrow!

]]> http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/2009/09/10/graylocks-and-the-three-bears/feed/ 0 happiestdustmite http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/2009/08/16/pinchin-trail/ http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/2009/08/16/pinchin-trail/#comments Sun, 16 Aug 2009 21:16:37 +0000 happiestdustmite http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/?p=151 ]]>

Paul and I returned to Linville Gorge last summer and tried a different trail from our previous adventures.Pinchin Trail was located on the same side of Linville Gorge as Wiseman’s Overlook, only  further downstream. It was well maintained, but rugged and quite steep in places. These pictures were taken in early October, 2008. As we left the parking area, the trail led into the typical hardwood and pine mix of trees.We knew we were in for some steep hiking from the topographical map. However, experiencing the actual grade, with a backpack, was a bit more strenuous than we expected. We took it easy and paced ourselves. I found it hard to keep my balance a few times. I’m not sure if my pack was too heavy for my weight, or if I’m just not as strong as I’d like to think I am. I had visions of turning an ankle and having to crawl out on my belly. Not a pretty sight!Purple Asters and other autumn blossoms added splashes of color to the foliage. Soon we came into the open and found a surreal landscape. There had been a fire on the mountain some years back. The undergrowth was well established, but all that remained of the trees were blackened trunks.About half of the way down the gorge we rested at a unique rock outcropping. The panorama was extraordinary! Rock faced cliffs lined the mountain face on both sides of us. Ahead the land dropped away and we could just see the break in the trees where the river wound down through the gorge.The gorge appeared to widen downstream from us. We had a good view of Shortoff Mountain on the opposite side.Past the outcropping, the trail descended steeply  on a tongue of land to the lower forest. We could see more of the Linville River. The burned trunks seemed like huge frayed quills thrusting from the bracken.At the bottom, we dropped our gear and cooled our feet in the river. Afterward we set up camp in a cleared site at the trail head. A stream fed into the river, providing a water supply and there was a large stone fire ring. Then we went exploring. For Paul, it was a photographer’s paradise.   A few other hikers passed our camp, but not many. We were alone to share the solitude and beauty of this wild place.The lower forest was lush and cool. The area wasn’t damaged in the fire. The terrain was more level near the river and the damp leaves cushioned our footsteps. On the morning of our departure the sky was heavily overcast. We decided to leave early in order to allow ample time to get out of the gorge, hopefully before rain began. We didn’t want to get caught on those slopes in mud.I got this photo as Paul approached the outcrop above me. You can tell from the angle how steep and rough this part of the trail was. I found it easier to keep my balance going up than I did coming down.We took a long break  at the rock formation where we stopped on the way down. We knew the toughest part was behind us. Baby, did we feel the burn! When he asked me if we would do this trail again, I couldn’t help burst into some lines from The Way We Were. You can see the cliff areas behind him with the burnt forest. It was a beautiful stark world!Yes, I shamelessly hug trees and talk to inanimate lifeforms, especially after making it back to the parking lot! I simply must tell them how wonderful they are. To trace the bark and touch the tiny moss caps are a few of life’s little pleasures. Others are to get in my car and ride the rest of the way home,  take a hot shower, and sleep in a soft bed with air conditioning!

After several prototypes, the final pavers were approved with this design featuring a laser etched portrait of the driver, the number for his car of choice, and the year he was inducted into the NCARHOF. This is the first paver we completed in October 2008. The portraits were laser etched onto black granite by Picture This on Granite. The pavers were designed by Vickie Wilson, and fabricated by the craftsfolk at David Allen Company using white marble, black granite and rustic terrazzo.

On the sidewalk in front of the Charles Mack Citizen Center…

near the corner of N. Main Street and E. Moore Avenue…

the walk begins. Follow me, as we recognize 13 men, all racing legends!

So the first becomes the last…and new inductees to come. Who will it be in 2009?

]]> http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/2009/08/12/mooresville-remembers/feed/ 1 happiestdustmite http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/2009/08/11/north-hills-plein-air-festival-raleigh/ http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/2009/08/11/north-hills-plein-air-festival-raleigh/#comments Tue, 11 Aug 2009 22:39:24 +0000 happiestdustmite http://happiestdustmite.wordpress.com/?p=130 ]]> I don’t consider myself competitive, in the sports sense of the word, i.e. my team is great and yours stinks! I do enjoy pushing myself to learn new things and develop as a person. August 9th culminated a Plein Air competition which had been running for 3 months. Artists could submit 3 paintings done on location at North Hills Mall in Raleigh, North Carolina. I learned about the competition from a friend (thanks, Chris) in early July and the race was on. Could I paint three images in the few weeks that remained? Well, I could try!

This is a painting of the Renaissance Hotel, painted in acrylic, 11 x 14, over a period of several days. This seemed like the most interesting angle of the building and the only place I could be out of the way of delivery trucks and other vehicular traffic. It came with the heat of baking pavement and the intermittent fragrance of dumpster de jour from a restaurant. Even so, the sight of an artist in public seems to be a magnet for the curious. All kinds of people came and spoke to me. I didn’t have business cards yet, but I painted my business email on  slips of paper out of my mileage notebook. Hey, it worked!

The Flower Vendors set up in front of the Alexan on Thursdays. It took me two trips to complete this and both times I was run off by a rain storm. We couldn’t take pictures and work in the studio, so it just had to do, time was up for my Thursdays. It was painted in oils, 11 x 14.

The Alexan is a gated apartment building. Through the metal gate, this courtyard beckons. As I set up to paint, a tall girl, absorbed in some frantic conversation, entered the courtyard and sat on the wall inside. I decided to paint her first, since I didn’t know how long she would stay there and I thought it would add interest to the painting. I shouldn’t have worried. I think the painting dried days later, before she finished. It is also painted in oils, 11 x 14. I finished this on the last day of the 3 month portion of the contest.

On August 9th, the mall held the Plein Air Art Festival with a 3 hour Quick Paint competition, music, booths and activities for kids. I set up on Main Street, the designated area for the competition. It was in the mid 80′s at 10AM when I started and the temperature was climbing rapidly. At 12:50PM I signed my painting, packed up, and headed for Art Source to turn in my entry. I felt certain I would not win an award, but I was pleased with my progress to be able to accomplish what I had in the time given. I was in such a hurry, I forgot to name it.

I didn’t take my camera with me to the festival. This photo, from the North Hills Mall management, is the painting I rendered of the fountain, again in oils, 11 x 14.

I was shocked when I realized that the 2nd place ribbon was on MY painting! It was a great event and I hope to participate again next year.

My nephews have taken up photography and I thought the Juniper Level Botanic Garden would provide ample inspiration for their budding talent.

The garden is a portion of Plant Delights Nursery located just south of urban Raleigh, North Carolina. They are open to the public 8 weekends a year for shopping and delightful excursions through the various garden areas. The rest of the year, they can be visited by appointment and provide the world with their extensive exotic plant collection via mail order. Check them out on the web, they are amazing!

Joel, the oldest…

and Jordan, found inspiration along the sunken water garden.

My niece, Victoria, discovered this tiny frog which was about the size of my smallest fingernail.

This is my youngest sister, Vonda, who has just relocated from Miami, Florida. She was glad to see that so many tropicals could live in our planting zone.

Sweet Victoria is resting in the gazebo.

My dad, with a Hibiscus Coccineus, a plant he also has at his home. We all derive our love of plants and fresh food because of his green thumb.

Pathways meander through the various habitats lined with a continuous tapestry of contrasting foliage. I have enjoyed painting  at this location with other plein air artists in the area.

An Arisaema blossom, either Jack-in-the-Pulpit or Cobra Lily, peeks out beneath the taller vegetation. In the mosaic of textures, these precious surprises are surely what gives Plant Delights its name.

Whimsical sculptures decorate the garden adding a touch of humor and playfulness.

I am enthralled with back lit plants and this border captivated me. It’s gorgeous delicate blossom spikes ranged from burgundy to palest pink and stood proudly among the sturdy blades of warm green leaves. I MUST paint them! They are in the Eucomis family.

This is the pattern of back lit agave leaves bordering the Southwest Garden. I was able to paint a fairly good image from another view there, which I will feature in a future post.

May our lives be filled with beautiful memories, of family and friends…

and may our eyes be open to the wonders of this marvelous world.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

How the darkness comes! It brings a wind, sharp and cold against my face. Though I love the storms that stream with such fierce beauty through the sky, I wrestle painfully against this storm within my heart that batters me like some frail creature. How can I stand against this illness that is taking you, brave one, from those who love you so? I can no more stop the storm that comes pressing down across the fields around me.

Questions fly like the leaves, memories ripple like the grain, and protests rush with force beyond reason, beyond comprehension. I have to brace myself against the wind.

Why? I know there is no answer, but questions surge in the belly, crying out for understanding. Why this life, this precious friend, this good man, this new father? Why? The storm carries away my questions.

I feel so selfish when I consider his suffering and the hurting hearts who sit even now beside him. I know they are each in their own way sending him their love and comfort, even as I am. The storm dominates the land and changes…changes everything. What is my sorrow next to theirs?

In the distance I hear the rumble of thunder over the wind. The air smells of the approaching rain. I think of the days ahead, the friends who will remember and honor him, people I will never know, but who have shared this one man’s life during his journey. The first tears of the storm above me begin to fall.

A sudden splash of light reminds me that the darkness isn’t everything or endless, no matter how it seems to dominate this hour.

As the rain forces us to seek shelter, we continue down the road, driving just ahead of the edge of the storm. Time is passing with the landscape, the furrowed fields and new crops. I am reminded that each season carries with it a promise of life, of fruitfulness. I consider the faith of my friend, the promises he believed in, the promises I share.

Small windows of blue and a general lightening of the incoming clouds hint that the worst of the storm has moved beyond us. Soon the wind is tamer, no longer threatening in its intensity. I know there will come a time when the severity of this loss will ease, and  laughter will compete with sorrow as the source of my tears when I think of him. I know…but today reason seems far away.

The future is beyond my view, even as the road ahead. Sometimes we think we know tomorrow. When we are following familiar roads, it is so easy to assume the days ahead will remain unchanged. Times like this remind me that I cannot really see very far. I need to make this moment count, to live with a generous heart and share joy and love, like the way he lived.

We circled through three counties. The storm began to break up, but the sky was still overcast to the west. We didn’t expect to get any sunset pictures, so we headed home. On the way, we stopped at the grocery and the sun found an opening, shedding a glow of splendor across the sky.

Paul stood in the parking lot and shot the glowing panorama. I sat and waited, drinking in the beauty, smelling the rain freshly fallen and wondering how something so awesome could follow the darkness of the previous hours. I wondered if something beautiful would come from the shadow of loss that still shrouded my mind. A car pulled up near us and parked next to Paul. The woman who emerged suggested he look back the opposite way.

We turned and saw a huge rainbow stretching unbroken to the treeline and shining against a violet background. I wept…at the beauty…at this prism of promise…at the hope displayed anew in my soul.

Oh friend, how grateful I am to have shared a portion of your life! You were a man with a playful, fun-loving spirit. You cared deeply about people, having an intuitive ability to touch hearts and bring insight with your perspective. Your influence always turned me toward optimism, joy and hope. May the love song that I sing to you be reflected in my life, that I will live as you lived, laughing and loving with an open heart. I carry the hope that something beautiful will come after this darkness and that in eternity, I will see you again.

They checked the hive for the queen, which Earl says is like looking for Waldo. She eluded them, but the evidence of her egg laying capabilities shows she’s a good queen.

Apparently the critters have been unbeelievably busy, augmenting with comb additions wherever they could find space. This bodes well for a good honey crop, according to Earl.

Adding a new box with frames a different size creates a space for the bees to store extra honey, Earl’s potential harvest.

Thanks for sharing the fruit of your labors with us, Earl. We’re glad you’ve got hives. Special thanks to the amazing performing Wenzel brothers who provided street entertainment during the inspection visit!

Even having been prepped for the performance by my son, Josh, I wept at the courage, humility and beauty that unfolded in that tiny segment of history. The inspiration overwhelmed me for several days and I pondered the wonder of her unpretentious determination to step toward her dream and also the transformation of the audience and judges as they received the revelation of the precious and extraordinary gift of Susan’s talent. Where smirks, the rolling of eyes, raised eyebrows and comments whispered to the side indicated mocking and derision, there came the dropped jaws, wide open eyes and forward leaning postures of a multitude awakened to an amazing discovery and leading on to an explosion of joy. I dare say few have received such a sweeping transformation of admiration in so few moments, invoking a fresh humility in the hearts of the abashed critics, self included, and a sort of hope that maybe we “fellow ordinaries” of this world might carry within us something quite beautiful that the world has not yet seen.

I realized, upon reflection, that this beautiful real-life story is very much a picture of the True Christian Church, the Bride of Christ, and the message of the Gospel that she carries. Jesus warned us that these things of God are not going to be recognized as beautiful by the world of men who are not in touch with His Spirit. Both the scriptures and teachers of the Word through the ages tell us that the things of God do not automatically move us to responses of appropriate adoration, but that God Himself must open our hearts, minds, eyes and ears to understand Him and even override our own inclinations toward wrong before we want to believe and follow Him, loving Him above all other loves. Yet, when that revelation comes and that mysterious power of Grace energizes us to this wonder of Beautiful Truth, we too join the audience that is captivated by the Celestial Love Song we find resonating from the far reaches of the Universe into the depths of our own deepest hearts. We are transformed, with abashed humility into subjects bearing worship too strangely wondrous to fully express. We then become in turn, the vessels which bear the Message and Presence of that Love, the ordinary becoming extraordinary, and walking out upon the stage of life take a courageous step toward our dream, to be like Him, to rock our audience with the Eternal Love Song. May we all have ears to hear.