Museums And Art That Seduces.

Every once in awhile I feel a craving for some Humble Pie, and spend time in an Art Museum.

I roam the galleries with my sketchbook, drawing other art lovers, and seek my favorite artists. 

Often I'm not the only live artist in the galleries. Here are children totally focused on doing their version of a portrait, in the National Gallery in London.

Invariably I encounter a painting that needs to be captured within the pages of my sketchbook.

In the Tate Museum, a guard keeps watch over a reclining lady.

Nearby, a guard sleeping on the job. The abstract painting a bit too boring?

In the Detroit Museum Of Art, my dear friends Vincent and his friend and sometime nemesis,
Gauguin. I would consider cutting my ear off for either one of them.
NAAAAAA!

Closer to home in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, this child, so vulnerable, by Vincent.

 And finally, a woman I adore; Ms. Frances Sherborne Ridley Watts, by John Singer Sargent. Also to be discovered at the Philadelphia Museum Of Art. Whadda' woooman!

Thomas Capano, Murderer, Is Dead.

There is now a little less evil in the world.

Thomas Capano is without a doubt the most evil person I ever drew in court.

He blamed the murder of his beautiful young lover, Anne Marie Fahey, on this woman, who had also been his lover, for eighteen years.

The police had no body, but Capano's brother Gerry finally admitted he'd helped Tom dump Anne Marie's body sixty miles off the Jersey shore, in an area known as "Shark Alley."

During the very long trial a fisherman realized the trunk he'd found floating at sea, with a bullet hole in it, was the trunk Anne Marie's body had been stuffed into.

Here Capano is being led out of court for cursing the prosecutor, whom he hated.

At the end of the seventeen week trial the jury found Capano "Guilty!"

The judge sentenced him to death, but eventually that was reduced to life in prison.
And that is where his life ended this past Monday, in his cell.

I saw Capano as an evil clown, trying to distract everyone as he juggles his donuts in the air.
Happily, he is now peddling on the path to Hell, and last I heard, there are no donuts in Hell.

Labor Day Water Colors.

If you've been following this blog of mine, then you know I'm in love with this view.

It is a view I grew up with, as a child in South Jersey. And now, as an artist, it seduces me.
My brothers and I played Cowboys and Indians in those woods, my father grew strawberries in the fields. 

In early morning wild turkeys search for food in the hollow. At dusk deer venture out to feed.
I feed off all of the shapes in the landscape as I wed pigment with water on the paper's surface.
Do you like one of these water colors more than the other? Tell me why.



 

Labor Day's Labor Of Love.

Last Saturday I got a call from my brother Bob.

Seems our Dad had once again been taken to the Emergency Room.

During the three days Pop was in the hospital his faithful and long-caring friends, Leona and Martha, visited him every day. He still has that Ternay charm.

A crazy thing happened on the day Dad was to be released. My brother Frank woke me at 5:30 a.m., asking me to take HIM to the E.R.! We Ternay men were obviously being "tested."

One of my jobs, between visits, was to pick up prescriptions. Pop is now at home, and Frank should be released within the next few days. Life goes on.
Stay tuned.