Today is Tuesday, painting class day. One of the classmates sent a group text yesterday saying that our teacher, Gail, has covid and won't be at class, but this classmate has keys to the store and will open it up for those who want to paint and visit. In December, I started an oil painting of an old rusty tractor. The plan was to give it to my "son from another mother" for a Christmas gift. However, I had forgotten how long it takes oil paint to dry; I should have started in July. I will work on it today, but I really wish Gail could be there, because I could use some advice.
* * * * * * * *
After yesterday's disappointing testing of the fringe embroidery designs, I sat down at the computer and pulled up copies of the designs so I could see how they were built. I ended up trying to edit my own flamingo design to add fringe to it, but it was a big pain in the butt, one to which I was unwilling to subject myself right then. But I learned some stuff in the process, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. If/when I have a need for a fluffy flamingo, I'll know how to make one.
* * * * * * * *
A couple of years ago, I was given a book of Beatrice Potter tales - big, thick thing with ALL of her stories and illustrations. I briefly admired it and shelved it - was delighted to have it - but never got around to looking closely at it until yesterday, when it occurred to me that it might be instructive to my critter-drawing.
Boy, was it ever.
She made a squirrel recognizable as a squirrel with just a few strokes of a pen and some watercolor. Scratch, scratch, swish. Pure magic.
Each tale in the book is prefaced with a bit of history about the story - when/where it was written, and to whom she sent it. Interesting stuff. But man . . . the stories . . . . When Benjamin Bunny goes missing, his father goes looking for him, switch in hand, and whips him when he finds him. (I am old enough not to be appalled at the thought of whipping a kid with a switch. As a child, I suffered one or two of them, myself, and will freely admit to having laid-in to mine with a wooden kitchen spoon on occasion.) And Old Brown Owl, when he has had enough of Squirrel Nutkin, snatches the squirrel up by the tail, intending to skin him. (I have never skinned a squirrel, but I have eaten one.)
Conclusion: There needs to be a Beatrix Potter revival.
No comments:
Post a Comment