Cherished - SOLD

'Cherished' SOLD



6" x 6" oil on panel

$65 plus $10 US shipping or $15 International

 

All the news stories rolling in about the horrible tragedy that happened in Connecticut have made me cherish the life and health of my sweet boys even more. I can't imagine the pain those families must be feeling. They've been in my prayers and thoughts so often this weekend. And made me appreciate the blessings of piles of laundry and arguing brothers because it means my children are still here, alive and whole. 

 

This is one of the oil paintings I finished a while back, and it was one that I really, really liked. Although photographing it was a pain in the patella, I still think this isn't a real accurate match, but it's the best I can do. I loved the innocence in this sweet baby's face and the way she nestled in so close to her parent's shoulder.

 

I'm writing this post while still wearing my fluffy Rudolph pajama pants while looking at the glow of the Christmas tree. It's so peaceful. :)

 

I haven't been doing much painting lately with the hurry to finish up Christmas stuff (namely my tradition of making something handmade for my boys each year, and shipping out paintings, for which I am so thankful to my wonderful buyers!), which means I also have been slow to reply to emails and comments. But I will as soon as I can! I'm sure you all are feeling the crunch too. :) I hope you all have a great week! Huzzah for being alive one more day!!

Full Cheeks - SOLD

"Full Cheeks" SOLD

6" x 6" acrylic on masonite

Last week I took my youngest son to the park when the older two boys were in school. That doesn't sound like a very big deal does it? And really it wasn't. But at the same time it really was.

We played on the playground, raced down the slides, ran across the giant grassy field and pretended to be trapped in the soccer net. We rolled down the hill and got the dried grass leftover from last fall all over us. He held my hand when we climbed the stairs to the playground and he told me I was his best friend.

That night I wrote in my journal about that small and simple thing, calling it one of the very best days of my life. And it was.

I look down at this little boy that I love more than anything and I can't feel anything other than an immense gratitude that he's my son and I get to spend this time with him every day. That I don't have to leave him with someone else and go to work.

He's my last, my baby, and soon he'll be going to school with his brothers and I'll look back on these days and wish there had been just a few more.

Solemn - For Mothers Everywhere SOLD

Solemn

7" x 9" watercolor

SOLD

all of the proceeds from the sale of this painting will be donated to Every Mother Counts

photo reference by Steve Evans

Daily Paintworks is hosting a fundraising challenge called Every Mother Counts. I saw this challenge posted a few weeks ago and really wanted to donate a painting, then almost at the same time I found Steve Evans photography (babasteve on flickr) which I completely fell in love with.

I looked at the photos of these children he has from all over the world and was moved to tears by their innocent, unguarded expressions and very humble living conditions. 

I thought of my life with my three children and how blessed we are with good health, and also how I may have taken that for granted at times.

The DPW auction site states, "Every 90 seconds a woman dies from childbirth. Fully 90% of those deaths are preventable. The aid organization Every Mother Counts  is training midwives in Afghanistan, opening health clinics in the Democratic Republic of Congo and shipping unused medical supplies to South Sudan. These are tangible, practical projects designed to combat maternal mortality and injuries worldwide."

I wanted to help. Every mother deserves to live, when death is preventable, through pregnancy and labor so she can hold and love her child.

Every child deserves to have their mother to protect, care for, and love them throughout their life.

I've had my share of emergencies and health problems with my pregnancies. With my last son I vividly remember sitting in the emergency room and waiting in fear for hours, when unknown problems developed, just so I could see my baby's rapid little heart beating in the ultrasound, assuring me that he was still alive and safe and that I was too. I had a doctor I could rely on and medical care was constantly available when needed. 

And I am so thankful for that.  Every mother deserves the same.

If you feel so inclined to share this post I would be so touched. :) It's not for me, but for mothers everywhere. Every little bit helps.

Perspective (revisited)

First Touch

5 x 7 watercolor

Most of you who follow my blog know that I write as well as paint, and yesterday I finally did something that I've been dreaming about doing my whole life. I finished my novel. I've started about twenty and I have one other novel that's nearly finished, but this one is the first fully completed book that I've ever written.

I was ecstatic. I felt completely triumphant that I set a goal and then saw it through to the end. It was a good feeling.

And then, about an hour later, I received a phone call telling me that a friend of mine had been killed in a car accident.

Suddenly, things like novel writing and art making seemed of such little importance.

I looked around my house, still in shock that she was actually gone, and saw my family all safe and healthy in my home within arms reach of a hug, or kiss, or a whispered 'I love you.'

And I gained some perspective. A new realization that life is precious and we have no guarantees that the people we love will be around for us to tell them, or show them how we feel one more time.

It's so easy to go through life thinking it will never change, that the people we love will always be around. 

But that isn't true, things always change.

Since last night, I've been hugging my family closer to me, trying to imprint in my brain everything I never want to forget about them, trying to live without regrets. Letting them know that they are my life, showing them that I am so thankful that they are mine, and that they are still here.

Timeless Remedy

10 x 14 watercolor

"We often take for granted the very people who most deserve our gratitude. Let us not wait until it is too late for us to express that gratitude. . . The loss of loved ones almost inevitably brings some regrets to our hearts. Let's minimize such feelings as much as humanly possible by frequently expressing our love and gratitude to them. We never know how soon it will be too late."

Thomas S. Monson



Sketchbook Tuesday, something a little different this time

my sketch of Steven Kellogg's 'Pinkerton'

      When me and my sister were little, every year on our birthday my mom would hang up a big banner she made for us. It said "Happy Birthday" of course, and then all around the letters were drawings she had done of our favorite things. Mine had lots of horses on it, and puppies, and I think even Rainbo Brite or Care Bears, or whatever my favorite books or movies were at the time.

      A few years ago she started the tradition again with her grandkids (my mom is really awesome at drawing, but she thinks she's not, can you believe that?). Now each of my boys have a birthday banner of their own, and every year we add whatever new thing they're into right now.

    My youngest son turned two this week, so on Sunday I pulled out his banner and started adding to it. I ended up looking through a bunch of my kids favorite picture books for a long time. I was sucked into the memory of reading them their favorite bedtime story over and over again.

      It's funny how you always think things will stay the same, that nothing will change, while at the same time knowing in your heart, even if you don't want to acknowledge it, that they won't.

      Anyway, I found this book that was a collection of Steven Kellogg's best children's stories. I love his books. When I was little I could look at his illustrations for hours, noticing every little detail. His books about Pinkerton ended up being some of my oldest boy's favorites too. I think it's because we just so happened to have a giant dog that is an awful lot like Pinkerton. Seriously. But we love him.

      I took a few minutes and drew this little sketch. It's not my original creation, but it was fun. And the whole time I drew it I kept thinking about my oldest boy, who's just eight years old, and how much he loved Pinkerton.

      Sometimes I think it's okay to slow down and create whatever it is that moves you. Even if it's not your own, even if some people think it's silly, even if it serves no purpose whatsoever other than reminding you that life is good.

Perspective

"My Solace"

10x14 watercolor

     I was planning on posting about procrastination. I have a lot of major art shows coming up in the next two weeks and I wanted to have something fantastic for them, something that would set my work apart from the other thousand entries. And then yesterday I got news that a friend of my family passed away, leaving his young wife and three little kids behind. I wasn't particularly close to him, but my sister was best friends with his wife, and I as the annoying little sister spent a lot of time tagging along with them. She (his wife) always made me feel welcome and loved and became a friend of my own. My heart aches for her and her family. I couldn't sleep this morning, waking up way before my alarm was set to go off. All I could think of was them and what they must be feeling now, and how I wish I could help them. It's my belief that life doesn't end at death, that families can be together forever. But still there is such pain and loss now. Knowing that when you roll over at night searching for them they won't be there, that you'll never hear their cars squeaky brakes pulling into the driveway again. It's so easy to go through life thinking it will never change, that people will always be around for us to tell them we love them one more time. But that isn't true, things always change. So I've been hugging my family closer to me, trying to imprint in my brain everything I never want to forget about them, trying to live without regrets. Letting them know that they are my life, showing them that I am so greatful that they are mine, and that they are still here.