A Walk on the Wild Side

I’ve never been to Africa. Wilderness parks and my own neighborhood provide a glimpse of wildlife. All I have to do is put on my walking shoes, grab my camera and head out the door.

On my journey, I’m also looking for palm masks which eventually drop from the Queen palm tree. My hope is that it won’t be damaged by the fall or partially rotting from too much moisture. The possibilities expressed in the unique shape and markings of these masks lead me into the far realms of imagination.

I may see a golden panther waiting there or a grizzly baboon with a blue nose. Sometimes a chunky contemporary face beckons my brush to let go and have fun.

I’m also surrounded by ideas and the creatures I may pass on my morning walks: an armadillo, a coyote, or even a black bear. There are herons, egrets, ibis, roseate spoonbills, wood storks, Sandhill cranes, eagles, hawks, ospreys and feral pigs just to name a few. They all become inspiration for paintings, illustrations or masks.

With Halloween coming up, one of them may even end up in black and orange. The woody masks must be treated with care. As they dry out, hairline cracks may form in the wood. The grain is so porous that it soaks up layers of paint. The hairy dry strands that fringe the edges sometimes get bumped off as I work.

(This is odd shaped and contemporary)

(Could make a funny face?)

People love to wear masks. Children enjoy the game, too. We like to become something we’re not or pretend that we’re a celebrity or a monster. Our real feelings are usually hidden behind a frozen face that refuses to give any clues as to what we’re thinking. But during this one time of year, we put on a new face and “let it all hang out.”

Politicians wear a mask while campaigning; but once the election is won, they forget their promises and become just another “Washington Insider.”

Lovers may wear a mask in the beginning of a new relationship. Looking our best, showing only those traits that we feel might be acceptable. If the bond is solemnized too soon, the “coming out party” may be a shock or at least a jolt of reality.

     

   

 

Caught up in the glitter and dazzle of romance, the nitty-gritty everyday struggles are masked. Once the make-up is off and the real you comes forth in all its fury plus a boat load of attitude, the feel-good veneer of the honeymoon period is gone. Some couples come crashing down only a few weeks or months after the marriage.

For those unwitting spouses, the fall is long and deep. For couples with children, the entanglement may take longer. Often in the bloom of initial romance, the red flags are ignored or not revealed. Dishonesty becomes a giant hurdle that can’t be overcome.

(This very large mask could end up a fish or . . . )

(a funny-faced baboon or water bird?)
What do you think?

  

It’s great fun to wear a mask when a mask is called for on Halloween, at Mardi Gras time or during other annual celebrations. But all bets are off when the masks come off. An old saying comes to mind: “Lasting love is not about finding the right person, it’s about being the right person.”

The Mating Game is a Fascinating Dance of Chemistry and Attraction

"This will be perfect!"

I'm not a photographer, but sometimes I get lucky and come up with a winning photo or two. I decided to repost one of my favorite blogs with photos.  

Mating season is underway here in Florida. The other day, I drove into a parking lot and nearly mowed down a great egret that was wandering about in a drunken erotical swagger. In the movie Bambi, Disney’s Thumper called it “twitterpated;” and by the flashy green down between the egret’s eyes and bill, I had to agree with that spunky rabbit. 

Being twitterpated is not limited to birds. Alligators get downright mean and nasty when the urge to mate overtakes them. One lusty gator saw its reflection in the sliding glass door of a local resident and pursued the image aggressively thinking it was a prospective mate. The terrified homeowner called animal control when the twitterpated reptile stood upright against the glass to “get a little closer.” Lucky for her the door held until local authorities arrived. 

One memorable morning, a “testy” gator proceeded to crawl across the road in front of me. Apparently a grate at the edge of the pond prevented the gator from swimming under the roadway to the other side, presumably, to meet its prospective mate. The gator drew quite a crowd as it hissed and snarled across the asphalt, warning passers by to stay their distance.

"This will be a fine nest."

Even anoles get in the act; pumping their bright red throat fans to impress the opposite sex. This undulating process goes on all summer and into fall as these lizard-like creatures mate and nest. During the winter months, anoles and lizards hibernate, and I rarely see them scurrying across my path.

Love bugs are another southern phenomenon. These red-headed black bugs spend their entire adult life copulating. The male and female attach themselves at the rear and remain that way even while flying. They splatter themselves over windshields and car radiators from April through May.

Shortly after mating, the love bug male dies; but that doesn't dampen the female's incredible urge to reproduce. She simply drags her dead mate around until she lays her eggs in the grass; and then she dies, most likely from exhaustion. Her eggs will hatch in the warmth of rotting grass mulch and become the next season's wave of love-bugs.

"Do I smell alll right?"

Squirrels in my neighborhood get downright silly during the mating season, which usually happens two or three times a year. They showoff, turn backward somersaults, and play games like “twitch” the tail and “tag you’re it!”

For two seasons running, squirrels built their nest in our cabbage palm. The mated pair cleaned and secured their nest in the spiked bark that protruded from the top of the tree. Their nest included escape tunnels and front and back points of entry.

During the gestation period, all was quiet except for excursions, in turns, by the parents to obtain food. After about two plus weeks of silence, three babies appeared. The youngsters brazenly crept to the edge of the palm fronds that made up their front porch and peeked over the side. Before long, they were chasing each other through the tunnels and playing “hump” games in preparation for future mating and nesting experiences of their own.

"It's a long way down, father. Will our babies be safe?"

When the squirrel mama decided her litter was ready for life outside the nest, she carried each baby by the scruff of its neck much the same way a cat carries its kittens. One by one the tiny squirrels were transported to a nearby live oak. The process was repeated until all three babes were safe. 

Two families of squirrels were born and nurtured in my cabbage palm, and then hurricane Charlie whipped through the area and scattered the nesting bark to the far winds. Many times the squirrels and their offspring returned perplexed, sniffing and searching my cabbage palm for evidence of their former home. I miss those squirrels.

"Three Newborns" (photo a little blurry -- they move around fast!)

Ode to a Loggerhead Turtle – Antiquity in Fluid Motion

A large loggerhead turtle was released on the beach yesterday after a long rehabilitation effort to make it well and strong. I shudder to think of the thousands of dollars this cost taxpayers.

On the other hand, I’m humbled by the familiar story called “The Star Thrower:”

“A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.

“She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!”

“The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference to that one!”

“The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved.”

— Adapted from The Star Thrower
by Loren C. Eiseley

"Window on Pine Island" oil on wrapped canvas

It would be wonderful if we could save all the hurting children in the world and all the abused animals. What an enormous job for one person! But we can save the ones that are nearby. We can contribute to organizations that do the work for us. We can help our family, our neighbors, our friends and community.

That noble loggerhead turtle was valiant in facing the elements and the wide blue-green Gulf to transition back into the wild. I worried that our efforts to save him would be in vain. What danger awaits him out in the deep? Will he find his way back home? Although he was tagged for identification, we may never know.

"Pelican at Rest" oil on canvas; prints available

If we were to question every effort to help a living creature, a person, a child because the end result was unknown there would be little good done in the world. We help because we must. It’s called compassion, empathy and character. If we cease to act on these divine qualities that reside within us, the world would become a savage and brutal place.

Nature ravages earth's population enough without our adding fuel to the fire. This morning on our walk I saw a baby bird sprawled on the sidewalk. The storm of last night had blown him from his nest. He was a wet wilted pile of feathers; neck and legs outstretched in rigor mortis where he’d fallen. The sight brought back all the times I’d tried to nurse a baby bird back to life and failed.

The future is a blank slate. We can’t stop doing good things just because we don’t know if it will change the outcome. You or I could step off the curb tomorrow and that would be the end of us. Fearing the unknown is part of human existence. But that knowledge shouldn’t affect how we live our today's. 

For that reason, I’m going to assume that the loggerhead released into the ocean finds its way back to a wonderful existence where it may live for another 100 years. Marvelous creatures they enshrined with dignity and mankind’s history imprinted on their backs.

"Beach Buddies" mixed media on canvas

Develop the “Moleskine” Habit – an Endless Supply of Ideas!

"Namesake" 24 x 18 acrylic on canvas

Why these flowers were ever called “Tiger” Lily in the first place I was unable to discover. Since they're covered with brown spots, why not Leopard Lily? I got so caught up in thinking about this I wanted to do a painting called “Namesake” and dedicate it to a ferocious tiger.

The stamens on the lily look somewhat like fangs and the tawny color of a tiger certainly blends nicely with the orange lily’s unusual curled back petals. The drawback was that the flowers are small when compared to a tiger or even a tiger’s head. With my head full of sparks and a passion to paint, I took brush in hand and had a blast with this flamboyant portrait.

This is how creation happens. We go from point A to point B which opens up a kaleidoscope of options and threads. My advice: never let a brain flash get away! Even the start of an idea deserves at least some space on paper to nail it down.

"Namesake work in progress" The first laydown of paint to canvas."

I’m a big fan of those delightfully small “Moleskine” books for jotting down inspiration or sketches.  I save every tiny binder! I review my notes from time to time to make sure there are no "big fish that got away." When one fresh idea is used, either in a blog or a painting, I draw a faint line diagonally through it and put “ok.”

Personal anecdotes also become a part of the history. I wrote this down when my husband was diagnosed with prostate cancer: “Today is Dick’s CT scan. We watch people come and go. Some are pale and sick looking; I suspect the results of Chemo.

“Unexpectedly, a friend from church comes in and sits nearby. He’s having a scan before undergoing surgery on his nose. Skin cancer is a common problem in our sunshine state. It appears that almost everyone with a diagnosis of cancer undergoes a scan to be sure the cancer hasn’t spread to other parts of the body.

“You can see the fear and concern written on people’s faces. Somehow you never think it’s going to happen to you or someone you love.

"Namesake work in progress -- placing the flowers"

“Dick doesn’t need me to be here with him nor at every appointment; but I know if I were in his shoes, I'd want him to be with me. It’s a question of support; a show of love and empathy. We will get through this together. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Thankfully, my husband’s cancer had not metastasized. After 45 radiation treatments and many follow up appointments, he has stayed cancer free for the past three years. The following notation in my Moleskine kept me on track: “Don’t worry about bad things that haven’t happened yet. It will save you a lot of anxiety.” This quote was taken from a novel I read called “The Shoemaker’s Wife.” 

Committing your ideas and meaningful quotes and information to paper is a lifelong habit that will provide a lifetime of inspiration. If you haven’t developed the habit yet, it’s never too late to start!

"Flash Dance" 16 x 20 oil on canvas

Grab a Brush and let the Healing Begin!

"Lady in Waiting" 11 x 14 oil on canvas

Why is art one of the most popular methods used in healing? We certainly don’t need more artists in the world. What is it about the practice of touching brush to canvas that heals the soul?

My conclusion is the “focus” that painting requires. The very act pulls you out of yourself and takes you on a journey of line, color, texture and form. Feelings are given life and anguish melts into fluid that is pushed and pulled into a heartfelt story.

(Work in Progress with edits)

There is beauty in the finished product. Discoveries are made about one’s self. Inner turmoil is released and anger spent. As paint flows, tears run. The horrifying and ugly are confronted and expressed. Unspoken words are visualized and controlled rather than running wild in the fear worn caverns of the mind.

Afterward the cleansed heart heals, the pain dissolves, and the artist is refreshed. Is it any wonder that people want to take up art to see what they’ve been missing?

That’s exactly how I began to paint many years ago. A friend, knowing that I was depressed and struggling with a growing family and a difficult marriage suggested I join her in a neighborhood class taught by an artist in her basement studio. I tagged along, not knowing what to expect.

It was love at first brush. I found my niche! And in the process, I lost myself completely in each canvas. My self-esteem blossomed, my coping skills increased, and I never looked back.

From my Garden, front walkway.

For some, healing begins with music. I met a wonderful woman who heals with her guitar and a song. She visits hospitals, rest homes and other areas where suffering is paramount. Her comforting melodies have helped terminal patients get a grip on their illness and passing. She has increased hope in the hopeless.

"Peace Plant"

We have all witnessed children with physical or emotional disabilities make great strides around animals such as horses and dogs. They overcome fears, gain self-confidence, and feel better about themselves. The warmth of touch and connecting is a key component.

Discover your passion and begin the healing!

Amarylis on my Linnai.

My friend Inez

People don't normally name the birds and animals they encounter, but after watching one ibis for over six years, I simply had to. I named her Inez. What was it that made her stand out? First of all, she had a bad limp that made it difficult for her to keep up with the other ibis when they foraged for food. And secondly, she came back to our neighborhood again and again for over six years. We're practically family.

Today she had two young ibis with her, sporting the brown feathers of youth. Her second family, although, I suspect there may have been a third. I was so happy to see them, even though they are skittish around humans. When there are long absences, I worry. She is usually gone when she has a clutch. But has always returned.

One day I was out walking and spied the remains of an ibis; nothing but a ball of tail feathers, a beak and the legs and feet. I was beside myself, thinking it must have been Inez for she doesn't move as quickly as the others. Today we saw a hawk devouring a white feathered bird in the field and I stressed out. There were snowy egrets flying about, it could have been one of them, or it could have been a cattle egret. There are many in the field where the cattle graze. When I saw Inez and her chicks, I was overjoyed.

Inez is a courageous ibis. She has regained her wing strength and flies as well as the others now, but the limp remains. I admire her for keeping on in the face of a crippling disability. She made me think about the countless children in our world who suffer in the same way. That was my motivation for writing "Inez Ibis Flies Again, The Story of a Courageous Ibis Who Never Gave Up."

If you know a child who needs encouragement and the will to "keep on keeping on," please take a look at my picture book. Samples are available at both of these web sites:
Ebook http://smashwords.com/b/8340
Hard Copy http://www.blurb.com%252fbookstore/

You can also purchase hard or soft cover books directly from me via Etsy.com or my Etsy tab on Facebook: Carol Allen Anfinsen or AnfinsenArt.