Fall Harvest has Inspired Artwork through the Centuries

"Auburn Nights" 20 x 16 Oil on canvas

Autumn’s color and crisp clear weather define my favorite season of the year. Pumpkin fields, apple orchards, and yellow cornstalks turned into scarecrows on doorsteps. The smells of bonfires, burning leaves, wieners and marshmallows roasting on sticks. The colors of yellow ochre, red orange, burnt sienna and raw umber capture the mood and the feeling.

When my children were still of trick-or-treating age, we’d pile into the car and drive out to a favorite farm where we’d purchase apples for making sauce and jack-o-lanterns for carving.

Ripe and delicious the wares tempted us to buy candied apples or sometimes stay for fresh apple pie and vanilla ice cream. Crunchy leaves underfoot accented the fun as we carried our finds back to the car.

Sometimes we’d buy a large jar of golden honey dripping with goodness to be used in cooked cereals and hot teas. Grandma would take some of the sticky stuff and make spun taffy rubbing her hands with butter and stretching the hot concoction until it was almost white. The sugar-sweet candy melted on our tongues.

On Halloween night at our house, I made a big pot of chili that the children were not too crazy about eating. But when they returned from “trick-or-treating” with their father in tow, they had to down a few bites before they were allowed to open their bags of candy.

At our house, Halloween costumes were hardly ever purchased. Every year, we scrounged the house for possible costume parts. After many Halloween celebrations, we ended up with a large costume box filled with various themes and sizes. The box was a big hit with neighborhood friends; and, for years, provided hours of entertainment for the children throughout the year.

The Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes my husband and I wore to an adult party were in the box plus the simple white pillowcase with cutout eyes and a cottontail glued to the rear.

Ears were tied with string and the white cotton case could become a rabbit or a sheep depending on how tall the toddler was and how long the ears.

One year I became a Geisha girl using a silk Japanese robe my son had given me. I wound pantyhose around a 1960’s fur hat and turned it into black towering hair.

After my face was painted white and makeup had been applied, I finished my “look” with white stockings and black platform thongs. My friend said that was either the ugliest costume she’d ever seen, or the best one there; she couldn’t decide which.

Many people go through life wearing disguises of one kind or another. They hide behind a false front and then take off their mask when in their own familiar surroundings.

We all try to make a good impression and put our “best foot forward.” We want people to like us. But there comes a time when the masks either come off willingly as people try to gain intimacy or the disguise is revealed painfully later on. The adage “better late than never” doesn’t work in this case. In relationships the “sooner the better” you find out the truth the better.

In your interactions with others watch for these red flags:

• Outbursts of anger or temper tantrums. The person’s mask sometimes slips to reveal these important inconsistencies. They may apologize profusely and have convincing arguments for their behavior, but trust your own gut instincts. If the other person is covering up an uncontrollable temper, imagine the fireworks when the mask comes off permanently!
• Irrational behavior. Tirades, spending or eating binges that come out of nowhere may be deep-seated and bubble to the surface when a hot button is pushed. This person may have emotional issues that are way out of their control and probably yours.
• Public outbursts. If causing a public scene doesn’t bother them, then erratic loud behavior in private may be the “norm.” When their own actions don’t embarrass them, nothing you can say or do will make any difference. If you dislike public displays, make a fast exit from this person.
• Treatment of other people. How they treat their mother or other close relatives may tell you a lot about their history and habits. If they treat strangers and outsiders better than those who are close, beware! This type is a performance artist always looking for applause and admiration. Around family they really let their hair down. Courtesy and thoughtfulness go right out the window.
• Beliefs and values are out of step with actual behavior. Some people brag about being honest yet they look for every excuse to justify cheating, slipping into a second movie theater without paying, covering up a mistake or blaming it on someone else.
• Possessiveness that requires an accounting.  “Why didn’t you call?” “Where were you when I called?” Who were you talking to just now?” You’re constantly bombarded with questions from this insecure type. They doubt your answers. They want to control your time, your friends, even your relatives. They smother you with affection, but it’s just another means of control. They want you all to themselves. Your life, your needs, your wants suddenly become smaller and smaller until you disappear altogether.
• The green-eyed monster disguised as love. “Were you flirting with him?” “I saw you smile.” “Your line was busy for 30 minutes! Who were you talking to?” As the song goes: “Every move you make, every turn you take, I’ll be watching you.” When the mask finally comes off, it becomes obvious the only person they love is themselves. With this jealous man or woman you’ll feel guilty even when you’re not. You can’t do anything right. Being human is a sin.
• A raised fist, a not-so-gentle jab may just be the beginning. Physical abuse is escalating behavior. In the beginning it may start with shouting and name-calling. Eventually the threats turn into action. If you see a glimpse of this when the mask is still on you’d better watch out! When they’re in their comfort zone they may take the velvet gloves off.

Watch out for those red flags, not only on Halloween, but every day of the year. When the smile and boasting phase is over and the disguises come off, be sure you don’t end up with a real goon or ghoul!

Bring it, Grab it, and Sell it now!

"Auburn Nights" 16 x 20 Oil on canvas, available @ http://carol-allen-anfinsen.pixels.com 

Neatness has its drawbacks. I find that “out of sight, out of mind” is what happens when I over-organize. Items or projects that have deadlines also must be near at hand and visible forcing me to critique them often, and to make necessary changes when ideas are fresh on my mind. 

If my schedule doesn’t permit, I at least make a note or use white charcoal to highlight the adjustments on canvas. Knowing where your gear is stashed away is another matter. When I sell something, I want to know exactly where my weigh scale is and my packing materials so my turn-around time is cut short.

Having a specific place for drawing papers, pencils, markers and charcoal makes it easier to capture an idea before it gets away instead of wasting precious moments scrounging for the things you need.

These same tools will assist you when you want to make quick edits or adjustments on a painting. If you are forced into hunting for the right object, you may forget what you were going to change in the first place.

"Fall in Apple Valley" (MN) acrylic on silk, available @ http://carol-allen-anfinsen.pixels.com 

Everyone has their own unique way of working. The important thing is to keep working. I find I’m a little rusty after summer travel and vacations, plus this past year ill health impaired my ability to keep doing the things I love. I’m hoping it’s like riding a bicycle, but it’s not. Practice is the byword that keeps those brush strokes fresh and intuitive. 

Now I’m playing “catch up.” Plus I’ve always believed in going that extra mile. Using the best products to create and then adding in something special makes satisfied customers smile which turns them into repeat buyers.

Painting by Julie Paschkis

One of my favorite artists and authors is Julie Paschkis. She knows all about going beyond what is required. She once took a Spanish class in order to illustrate a book for Spanish speaking children. Words are used as design tools to enhance the learning experience. 

Her artwork is so joyful it literally jumps off the page. 

You’ll enjoy her web site:  https://juliepaschkis.com/

A video allows you to meet the artist as she shares her work: 

The Grass always feels Greener Between your Toes

"Looking Outward" 3-D acrylic on glass window
with canvas behind, dog between.

The days of summer are behind us unless, as my husband says, “You live in the Tropics.” If you’re one of the lucky ones, you’re still enjoying it and walking bravely where others fear to tread. When I first encountered the lizards, snakes and other vermin running across my pathway, I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk barefoot in the grass. I was still plagued by memories of Washington where the morning after a mowing the velvet grass was covered with dew and mammoth snails that came out of hiding. After the sight of them, I never allowed my virgin feet to walk through that grass again! 

Children never think about “What Lurks Beneath.” They run barefoot, tumble and roll in the sweet smelling carpet without a moment’s hesitation. They’re uninhibited. I have to hand it to them. There’s something about walking barefoot on a green lawn or plunging your feet into warm soft sand that brings you closer to the earth and fills your heart with greater appreciation for the simple things of life.

 The people who garden here in Florida are covered from head to toe. Not only are there boots on their feet, but they wear hats, gloves, and long-sleeved shirts even in the heat of summer. You never know what’s going to jump out at you.

 
One of our land stewards at church came running inside after he’d poked his head into a dumpster. A wasp or bee stung him on the nose, and being super allergic, he was in a panic. After dousing his nose in cold water, he took off like a flash for a dose of epinephrine.

My fear of spiders goes way back to a near-death tangle with a brown recluse. I was hospitalized for ten days, had gangrene and serious blood poisoning. It’s no wonder that I’m always looking out of the corner of my eye for anything creepy and crawly.

 
So, you see, while you’re complaining about the cold up north and the impending snow, perhaps my sorry lament has made you feel better. While I’m swatting mosquitoes, you’re enjoying the crisp and colorful fall leaves. I’m sweeping palm frond seeds off my porch for the second time today, but you may be witnessing that first gentle coating of white sparkling snow.

 

It’s all relative of course. The grass is always greener in somebody else’s front yard. If we take time to appreciate the here and now, we’re the better for it. Smell the roses when they’re blooming. Enjoy the crunch of leaves underfoot. Taste the snowflakes while they’re clean and untouched. Enjoy the sunshine – bless the rain. Live your life to the fullest.

"Sea Breeze" acrylic on 2" deep wrap canvas

What’s not to Love – or Hate?

A glimpse of my December art show at Arts for Act gallery in downtown Fort Myers.

Yes, I’m one of those sappy people who watched Sound of Music to hear once again the familiar and wonderful songs of long ago and to watch Carrie Underwood’s take on a timeless classic.

What I was not prepared for was the avalanche of hatred aimed not only at her, but at her faith after the showing. Was the criticism aimed at her performance? No. It was simply a barrage of anger leveled at her Christian faith and her belief in the Bible; cheap shot in my opinion.

Are these the same hate mongers who demand free speech for themselves, but wish to deny it to others? Are they the ones who yell racism and discrimination whenever it suits their political agenda with little evidence to back it up. A ploy designed to stir up trouble?

More of my paintings on the brick wall in the interior office (sorry for the lamp glare!).

Where does this kind of hatred come from? Envy? Self-loathing? An empty soul? Christianity is a religion of love: “Love thy neighbor as yourself,” “Love your enemies,” “Do good to those who despitefully use you,” "judge not," "forgive and you shall be forgiven," and on and on.

Christians are sinners who are striving to do better. They are given ugly labels they do not deserve. They are only human. Why is it that when they stumble or reveal their vulnerability they are laughed at or worse called a “hypocrite” for making a mistake? The mockers defile them with crude language while their own behavior would make a sailor blush.

My paintings along the back wall of Arts for Act Arcade Gallery downtown Fort Myers -- entire month of December!

I’ve always cheered for the underdog, but when did we start putting vulgar language and crude behavior on a pedestal? Since when was innocence a negative and raunchiness applauded? Our “ship of state” is sinking into the mud, and I for one am saddened by our descent into degradation.

I think that’s why I paint portraits of children and enjoy painting scenes that children will find funny or inspiring. I like their fresh perspective, their trusting and simple belief in goodness and their frank and open dialogue. If someone is unpleasant or mean, they’re not afraid to tell it like it is. They see through the outward trappings of poverty and color into the heart. They can spot evil and avoid people who give off negative vibes.

"Beach Buddies II" mixed media on canvas

We should encourage this goodness before it becomes tainted by peer pressure and adult provocation and perversion. These are our children. They are our future. Do we want a world where hate rules and crude behavior becomes the norm? Where will we find inspiration or beauty in such a place? How will we survive if the passion to deface and destroy becomes the norm as it was in Rome?

"First Daffodil" acrylic on canvas

Pheasants and Fall

This time of year brings back childhood memories. Here is one of them:
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I sailed over the wooden bridge on my bicycle and slid onto the gravel pathway that skirted Willow Park. The trail wound through marshland, giving visitors glimpses of wild geese, ducks, and birds in their natural habitat.

I stopped my bike and walked through the knee-high grass. I refused to leave to chance the possible sighting of a duck or a bird, even though a sign said “keep off.” It was my lucky day. In minutes, I spied a pheasant’s nest. I knew about pheasants from my uncle Vern who hunted them in season and shared his kill with our family.

The nest was hidden in a clump of Johnson grass like a forgotten Easter basket. Nestled inside were four greenish brown eggs just waiting to be found. I moved closer. Where was their mother? Was she lurking somewhere in the underbrush or had she deserted her nest? Was she alive or dead?

The pheasants my Uncle Vern flopped on our kitchen counter haunted me: the glassy eyes frozen in stare, the shiny green head, the white neck ring splattered with droplets of blood, the speckled brown wings, the striped tail feathers, the buckshot battered breast.

I knelt in the damp grass. The eggs were still warm and as smooth as sugar candy. I wanted them – all four of them, but I could only carry two. Cradling an egg in each hand, I returned to the path and mounted my bicycle. At least I could save two eggs -- two pheasants. I would keep them warm and hatch them out myself. After all, their mother had abandoned them. What if she didn’t come back?

I rode carefully down the gravel pathway, over the bridge and onto the asphalt pavement; struggling to protect the eggs and to guide my handlebars. I was excited about the prospects of incubating the eggs at home. I imagined the babies growing up under my watchful care until they could flap their bronze speckled wings and soar to freedom.

A bump in the pavement shattered my reverie. I braked. The bike swerved. I cushioned my fall with an outstretched leg and a tight grip on the handlebars. Whoosh – crunch, the sounds of multiple crackles reverberated through the air. I felt sick watching the life giving yolk and slimy white gook ooze through my fingers. The eggs were shattered. The precious gift of life I had held only moments ago was gone.

Years later this painful memory would shape my respect for life – all life. God alone knows the miracle, the purpose and the potential that exists within any given seed or embryo. Who am I to act in God’s name, determining who will live or who will die, weighing the value of one life against another?

The word of the Lord came to Jeremiah saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” (Jeremiah 1:4-5)