tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69612038110289078612024-03-01T13:57:35.818-05:00POSTCARDS FROM PHILLYMY ADVENTURES AS AN ARTIST IN PHILADELPHIA AND ENVIRONSAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-26335605607733866572015-05-09T16:06:00.000-04:002015-05-09T16:16:06.014-04:00Painting The Colors Of Spring 2015. Spring finally seems to have settled in just as the Barnes Arboretum opened its gates for the season, this past weekend.<br />
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When I'd taken the Barnes classes many years ago, Violette de Mazia used the word "effulgent" to describe eleven Van Gogh paintings she'd lined up to make a point about lush and luminous color. I was immediately drawn to these trees for those very sames reasons, on Saturday. (watercolor)<br />
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In the afternoon I painted this back-lit beauty, intertwined in an arbor that leads into the formal gardens.<br />
I plan to have accumulated enough paintings done at the Barnes Arboretum in the next few months to have an exhibition at a nearby gallery, in the fall. I'll let you know where and when. (watercolor)<br />
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This watercolor is actually the first done this spring, of crocus making their presence known along the path and stream in nearby Merion Park.<br />
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And here is the first tree to show color in the park.<br />
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I've been wanting to paint this old guy, who continues to arch precariously over the stream, for so many years. I finally did this watercolor of him last week, at mid-day. The light was wonderful.<br />
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My daily walk takes me along the stream. I love how the root systems of of trees demand their bit of space in the old stone retaining walls. It all makes for wonderful shapes to paint. For starters, it really is all about the shapes. One of my instructors told me years ago, "Ternay, if you get the "SHAPES" right, then you'll get the "THINGS" right. Words of wisdom I pass on to my students, daily.<br />
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Now that warmer weather has finally arrived, I'll once again linger after my Thursday morning class in South Jersey, to paint. So many subjects; too little time.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-69125787851177598892015-03-22T15:47:00.000-04:002015-03-22T16:04:23.322-04:00The Aesthetics Of Evil.I have been asked many times during my career as a courtroom artist whether I ever allow my personal feelings to influence how I depict the defendant. The answer is "No."<br />
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The only time I entertained doing so was in the murder trial of Thomas Capano, the most evil person I've ever drawn in court. He'd at one time been the City Solicitor for Wilmington, Delaware, and was on trial for murdering one of his many lovers, Anne Marie Fahey.<br />
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Capano was smart, politically connected, controlling, narcissistic, and he preyed on women with low self-esteem. To me he was also an arrogant fool. I could not resist doing this series of cartoons, depicting some of the outrageous moments during the trial. This is the first time they have been published.<br />
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Capano had blamed the murder on another of his long time lovers, Deborah McIntyre. During her testimony McIntyre told of one night when she and Capano were together at her home when her husband, a friend of Capano's, arrived unexpectedly. She convinced her husband good old Tom was there to repair their VCR.<br />
It's quite possible I exaggerated at bit here...but not too much, considering her testimony and that of others about their sexual escapades.<br />
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Eventually Capano took the stand to offer his version of events the night of the murder. I think his tail gave him away.<br />
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Here is my take on Capano being questioned by the brilliant U.S. Attorney, Colm Connolly. He and Capano had gone to the same Jesuit school. Capano hated Connolly. To me they were like two sides of the same coin; one evil, the other good.<br />
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Capano said he'd bought the gun that killed Fahey to protect his daughters, but eventually gave it to his then lover, Debbie McIntyre. At one point he rambled on about how his interpretation of Jesuit philosophy could justify killing someone. He had chained an anchor to the ankle of his victim, Anne Marie, before casting her body overboard from his brother's boat in a part of the ocean known as "Shark Alley," sixty miles off the New Jersey coast.<br />
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A few times Capano's anger while on the witness stand got him kicked out of court. Having been a lawyer in that very courtroom for many years, he no doubt knew most of the Sheriff Deputies.<br />
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Murder and Sex were the common threads running through this trial. This woman was a prison psychiatrist testifying for the defense. Although she had lots of credentials as an "Expert Witness," she proved to be inept and an embarrassment to the defense team. After meeting with Capano 15 or 20 times, her demeanor in court implied a bit more than a "professional" interest in the defendant, and the judge basically said her testimony was worthless.<br />
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At the end of the lengthy trial the jurors overwhelmingly found Capano GUILTY AS CHARGED!<br />
His death sentence was eventually overturned and he was sentenced to life. He died on September 19th, 2011. One of Anne Marie Fahey's brothers said he surely went straight to Hell.<br />
AMEN.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-44420792044385086362015-02-28T21:18:00.000-05:002015-02-28T21:33:34.994-05:00Sketching In My Favorite Places.There is a variety of places I visit on a regular basis that never cease to inspire me to open my sketchbook and start to make marks on the blank page.<br />
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One of them is "Jim's Lunch," in Millville, New Jersey. The same family has been making delicious "Diner food" there for 3 or 4 generations. This is the second sketch done of one of the current owners, Jim Maul, as he was making my "one-egg-over-easy" with Italian sausage and rye toast, and coffee. I show up there every Thursday morning before teaching at the nearby "Barn Studio of Art." Jim always kids me about not quite capturing the full length of his nose.<br />
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Just a few blocks from my home is a McDonalds. Once a month I give in to the urge...the need, to down a calorie-laden short stack of pancakes, of which I only allow myself two. And again, with a sausage patty.<br />
YUM! And oh-so-bad-for-me.<br />
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If I want something a bit more "upscale" in the food department I walk the few blocks to my favorite Jewish deli, "Hymie's." I have one particular seat that gives me a good view of the patrons. I'm often asked if I did the many portraits on the walls? I did not. They were done by another artist/friend of mine.<br />
He recently put me up on the wall. By the way, this is not a portrait of me, sketching.<br />
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Speaking of portraits. Once in awhile I'll end my day at "The Tavern," a gathering place for those wishing to partake of the "Happy Hours" specials, and hors d'euvres. I have a favorite place to sit at the bar, one that gives me a mirror image in the beer tap of those sitting behind me...and in this case, me.<br />
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On very rare occasions, when I'm still not quite ready to head home for bed, I'll stop in at an all night Diner.<br />
The nearest is the "Llanarch Diner." It has been there for a long time, and it's most recent claim to fame is the<br />
booth used in the film "Silver Linings Playbook," where Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence had their first date. This couple was not sitting in that booth, but there definitely was something going on here between the two of them. About as close as they, and I, will ever get to Hollywood fame, I suspect.<br />
OK; time for bed. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-35992613754526781572015-02-18T10:52:00.000-05:002015-02-18T12:28:59.750-05:00A Weekend Of Opera, Art, And Tons Of Snow In Boston.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Two weekends ago my friend Nancy and I, and her dog Leah, drove up to Boston to hear Nancy's daughter Rachel (right) sing in the opera "Ithigenia in Tavris." Rachel and her friend Coco are two of the many amazingly talented students at the Boston Conservatory of Music. (Thank you Coco for use of the photo.)<br />
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Once settled into our room high above the Brownstones behind the hotel, Leah checked out the view.<br />
She said there was snow as far as the eye could see.<br />
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Indeed there was; piles on sidewalks and intersections five to seven feet tall.<br />
And as we know in the week since, even more snow has been dumped on "Bean Town."<br />
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Saturday morning I decided I had to somehow chronicle the snowfall in a drawing, without freezing my butt off. Across from our hotel was the Prudential Center, in which I found the lobby of a condo. It looked out onto a snow covered garden. I settled into a warm and comfy overstuffed chair, and did this sketch in about an hour.<br />
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After lunch Nancy and I decided to brave the snow and walk to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.<br />
Mrs.Gardner was a patron of the arts, and close friend of one of my favorite artists, John Singer Sargent.<br />
The elegant home was built in the late 1900s, in the style of a 15th century Venetian palace. The three story building's interior surrounds this beautiful garden, the top of which originally opened to the sky. I couldn't help wondering how they would have dealt with snowstorms back then? Brrrrrr.<br />
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This is the last painting done by Sargent of the ailing Mrs.Gardner, when she was 82 years old. She had suffered a stroke three years earlier. Sargent's water color captures her pale fragility, propped up by pillows, wrapped in shades of white cloth, surrealistically echoing the drifts of snow surrounding her former home.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-3398205762913484822015-02-09T14:58:00.000-05:002015-02-09T15:14:42.678-05:00The Rules Of Making Art; And How To Violate Them.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Once in awhile I forget the sub-title to my blog is "My adventures as an artist...etc...etc...etc."<br />
On a recent weekend night I went to hear my former harmonica teacher, Seth Holtzman, playing a "Blues" gig.in nearby Media, PA. with his friend, "Johnny Never." They did their Art, and I did mine.<br />
But as often happens, I soon realized I had mis-spellings in comments heard, and with one of Seth's hands.,<br />
I'd totally ignored one of his fingers wrapped around the harmonica. <br />
OUCH! Where is the White-Out when I need it? Pablo Picasso supposedly said ;"An amateur artist learns the rules. A professional artist learns how to break them." This drawing will get cleaned up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazxuL1zD9oymGRx9w65C3yfcIcPGLLaDc3S7wQK0PPLVqaOJym36grnWGBHBCIwArUBzTJDHlNHvHB9ioS27BniIuh9lFn53bHUNRoy1A18tjVFxjJZ_Ww6K5GPVaePZEjHpD5a334eo/s1600/BonnardNude72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazxuL1zD9oymGRx9w65C3yfcIcPGLLaDc3S7wQK0PPLVqaOJym36grnWGBHBCIwArUBzTJDHlNHvHB9ioS27BniIuh9lFn53bHUNRoy1A18tjVFxjJZ_Ww6K5GPVaePZEjHpD5a334eo/s1600/BonnardNude72dpi.jpg" height="176" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjounpIhNFKV3q2dgLk0GaGhj8kun7-vPd3zXhATdr4uqmWoOictwL7bO_UweesD5pZhhqhan-E4BwnqfNW6g06zmd4vYp73BS1jqLmD_1l65oYrvTT05yw4o7-O_pCe2Rg-q1X1UWlT8k/s1600/Bonnard72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjounpIhNFKV3q2dgLk0GaGhj8kun7-vPd3zXhATdr4uqmWoOictwL7bO_UweesD5pZhhqhan-E4BwnqfNW6g06zmd4vYp73BS1jqLmD_1l65oYrvTT05yw4o7-O_pCe2Rg-q1X1UWlT8k/s1600/Bonnard72dpi.jpg" height="225" width="320" /></a><br />
And yes, I have absolutely no problem reaching for the White Out, or whatever else will cover errors...bad drawing, mis-spelled words, to bring my drawing or painting to a satisfying state. Notice I did not say "finish," or "conclusion."<br />
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Supposedly Pierre Bonnard (my absolute Hero) would quietly sneak his paints and brushes into museums that had bought his paintings, and discreetly touch them up, unable to bring himself to say "Enough already!" (Not sure how to say that in French?)<br />
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I've often been asked, "How do you know when a painting is finished" There are a couple of fairly good answers. "How do you know when a conversation is over?" If the person asking the question is also flirting with you, the response might be, "How do you know when you're done making love?" It comes down to a gut feeling, usually, that there is simply nothing left to do, as with this drawing. Lots of texture, cross-hatching,<br />
values from white to almost black. Anything more would be redundant.<br />
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And the fun thing for me as I draw and the sketch evolves is reaching those moments when I must make a choice. Do I stay with a drawing that is open, airy, and just done in simple "line?" This drawing was done at Barnes and Noble. I liked how these two were separated by a column, each contained within their mental and physical space, seemingly unaware of the other. And I really loved the big pile of hair on the woman.<br />
(It was bright orange.) Her "statement" about who she was begged to be confirmed on paper via my pen.<br />
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Taking this relatively simple drawing to the next level, with cross-hatching that implies a variety of "values"<br />
(degrees of lights and darks) begins to describe the environment. There is implied depth and perspective to the column..These folks now share the space. Clothing has texture, shadows of lap-tops and coffee cups let us know where the light is coming from, and as a drawing made up of "Marks" on the flat surface of the page, the total image becomes more graphic It's now more about the "shapes" of things, and less about the initial open line. I can keep adding cross-hatching to make areas look darker, and by comparison, other areas look lighter. As my boss at KYW-TV-3 used to say, "It's all a bunch of cheap optical tricks!"<br />
And a judicial use of good old White-Out, when needed. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-76418355842821857242015-01-19T16:23:00.000-05:002015-01-19T16:23:16.636-05:00Doctor King And My Art Reflecting His Legacy.Today we celebrate the birthday of Doctor Martin Luther King Jr.<br />
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This and the following partial images were done by me for a documentary about the "Civil Rights Movement", when I worked at KYW-TV 3, in the 1970s.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUyhvnix8a0qab5mGhn91Gf0bgtqLPqE6JZX0Br87g018VfTITxgANNwOpw4AdBZ3iGcB-i-7x1ccybrU_Xl_hqe-TzV_bbc83_cXtC-Kf2sUniWz1Ij6FiEcRm-IC25GT1LTn887cGQ0/s1600/Rosa+Parks72dpi+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUyhvnix8a0qab5mGhn91Gf0bgtqLPqE6JZX0Br87g018VfTITxgANNwOpw4AdBZ3iGcB-i-7x1ccybrU_Xl_hqe-TzV_bbc83_cXtC-Kf2sUniWz1Ij6FiEcRm-IC25GT1LTn887cGQ0/s1600/Rosa+Parks72dpi+001.jpg" height="400" width="242" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWTjcAIEB8-9FVRvs-2XRe1UF4NyPkUQqe5mKhtHRsX6glSd4ueT7rHQc4RIfPFVz-c8VtJAd2HlWYBVWyzVxeH2L82-NpY-c91u0ReOSnoHehVlF5KcyDTCuqmutIpdVPI5DGlRfP98/s1600/RosaBus72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsWTjcAIEB8-9FVRvs-2XRe1UF4NyPkUQqe5mKhtHRsX6glSd4ueT7rHQc4RIfPFVz-c8VtJAd2HlWYBVWyzVxeH2L82-NpY-c91u0ReOSnoHehVlF5KcyDTCuqmutIpdVPI5DGlRfP98/s1600/RosaBus72dpi.jpg" height="400" width="240" /></a><br />
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Much has changed for the better, much for the worse, and much stays the same, only in a different guise.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-22136618299777783422015-01-11T23:11:00.000-05:002015-01-11T23:11:32.222-05:00The Art Of Making Mike Douglas Thinner.One of my New Years resolutions for 2015 was to bring order to the mess I call my studio.<br />
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In the process I came upon illustrations done while at KYW-TV 3, and the Mike Douglas Show.<br />
This illustration is not by me, but of me, posing for a fellow illustrator, Charles Santore. Charlie has forever been THE PREMIER illustrator in Philly, in my opinion. I had just gotten my job in the art department, and he needed a model for an ad for TV Guide magazine. Although I worked "behind the scenes," I was never a cameraman. <br />
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I was one of seven very talented Set and Graphic Designers during my ten years at channel 3. I was the only Illustrator, but each of us got to do ads, graphics, and set design for the Douglas Show, Eyewitness News, and other productions. It was a great time to work in television in Philly, 'cause Westinghouse Broadcasting was making tons of bucks off the Mike Douglas Show, Merv Griffin, David Frost, and other local shows.<br />
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This is a piece done to promote the Douglas show on billboards, sides of buses, etc.<br />
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I enjoyed my role as Illustrator, but one of my unique challenges was doing portraits of Mike Douglas.<br />
I didn't usually have a problem getting a "likeness," but I cannot tell you how many times a portrait of Mike would be sent back me in the art department, with a request to "make Mike a little thinner." I did what I thought I could get away with without losing the likeness, sent the image back for approval, and was never<br />
surprised when it came back a few more times before the folks in the Douglas offices (Mike?)<br />
were finally happy. Over the years I've gotten the same kinds of requests from lawyers and prosecutors when covering a trail. I usually tell them "I just draw what I see."<br />
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Here is a piece done for the Merv Griffin Show, which came out of "the little theater off Times Square," in<br />
New York. I was never asked to make Merv thinner. <br />
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During its' prime, the Douglas Show had a bigger audience than the Tonight Show. The women of America seemed to love Mike and his Irish charm. Someone once said he reminded them of the husband they wish they had, or the son they never had.<br />
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The Douglas Show had a unique format for its' time. Every week there would be a "guest host," and I would<br />
do portraits of them that appeared on the set, in advertising, where ever. Here is one done of Billie Jean King. Whenever I could I'd get guests to sign their portrait for my collection.<br />
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Here is Richard Pryor. Most of these were done in ink line and, for color, Magic Markers.<br />
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One morning I found myself on the cramped little studio elevator with Muhammad Ali and his wife.<br />
Back in the 70s everything was "Super Graphics" and "Psychedelic Color."<br />
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As the "Resident Illustrator," I did many portraits of famous lawyers and infamous criminals when covering trials for the News department. I have every painting done from those trials (over two thousand) and I'm finally at work on the manuscript for my "Coffee Table" book about my many years as a "Courtroom Artist."<br />
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There were a few "guest hosts" I didn't get to draw, because for a month or so our union decided to go on STRIKE. During one of those weeks Burt Reynolds was on the Douglas Show. One of the cameramen foolishly challenged Burt as he was entering the building, so Mr. Macho Burt DECKED HIM! I could not resist doing this cartoon of the event, with a bit of exaggeration, of course.<br />
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There were other events at KYW-TV 3 that were much less violent, but certainly just as raucous and oh so much fun. Like the Christmas Party. My friend Barbara was head of the Promotion Department and a former "Rockette." I cannot recall who the guy was on the right, but quite obviously, not yet ready for "Prime Time."<br />
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Sometimes at the end of my morning walk I miraculously end up at the nearby Dunkin' Donuts.<br />
These two couples have been meeting here every morning for years. I've always wanted to draw them,<br />
and just last week finally did. One day I got brave and asked what language they were speaking?<br />
They are Greeks, and obviously longtime friends.<br />
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Two weeks ago I took the train into Philly to meet three of my friends and fellow artists at the Barnes Museum. These passengers were waiting for other trains.<br />
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After we parted I walked over to the Barnes and Noble, around 18th and Walnut streets.<br />
These two folks did not know each other, or that I was drawing them. Each of us was in our own world.<br />
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Before heading back out of town I stopped in one of my old haunts, from when I was in Art School, in the sixties. Nothing seemed to have changed, except the bartender and me.<br />
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I could not resist sketching this dozing fellow passenger on the train ride home. The partial sketch on the right<br />
is of a guard at the Barnes, who was also dozing off and on. He said I could not sketch in the galleries.<br />
Mmmm...I wonder how Monet would have replied?<br />
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A few days later, while out running errands, I gave in to a mad urge for some pumpkin pie, topped with vanilla ice cream and a few puffy squirts of whipped cream. When my students complain they don't know what to draw in their sketchbooks, I tell them "Draw anything!"<br />
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Always a fun thing to do when at my favorite Chinese restaurant is just fill the page with "talking heads,"<br />
at the take-out counter.<br />
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Sometimes when my son Mason is playing with his band, the "Tree Rats,"on "Open Mic Tuesdays", I'll hang out to draw them as they perform. Mas' is the small head left of middle, always behind his band mates because he is the drummer.<br />
Tomorrow night is New Years eve, and to each of you have a safe and enjoyable evening, wherever you celebrate. <br />
<b>CHEEEEERS!</b> <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-41801629519157791012014-12-24T08:43:00.000-05:002014-12-24T08:56:41.778-05:00The Art Of Wishing My Friends A Merry Christmas.If you were to type William Ternay Jr into Google and hit "images" you would see cartoons, portraits, courtroom art, landscapes, romantic paperback and children's book illustrations, drawings from my sketchbooks, even primitive drawings from my teen years done at idle moments in my dad's store.<br />
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Among those many subjects you'll also see some of my illustrations of a "Religious" theme, created for the<br />
Franklin Mint, Greeting Card, Print, and believe it or not, Puzzle companies. The painting above is one of my most favorites. I hope it captures the mystery, magic, and perhaps majesty of this event celebrated by so many around the world at this time of the year..<br />
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One of the Greeting card companies I deal with is "Leanin' Tree." whose market is all those folks in the south and west who are into the "Great Outdoors", camping, fishing, hunting, etc. This concept came to me one beautiful, crisp, and crunchy afternoon while standing at the top of a ski run in the mountains above Denver.<br />
I cannot tell you how difficult it is to get a moose to hold a pose.<br />
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<b>Happy Holidays friends, and the very best to you in 2015.</b><br />
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<b>Bill</b> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-79138283001138085102014-12-19T23:16:00.000-05:002014-12-20T11:49:54.793-05:00Artwork versus Art Work.There is a big difference between creating "Artwork" and the often long process leading to its' finish,<br />
the actual "Art Work."<br />
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Today I'm sharing with you a few of the steps in the creation of a posthumous portrait of "Nimbus," a majestic Belgian Sheep dog whose owner, a close friend, was mourning the loss of her companion.of many years. She needed some cheering up, although I knew, if I was successful, there would also be tears.<br />
I did Nimbus's portrait during a warm week in the fall, taking advantage of the cool shade on my porch.<br />
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When I do portraits, whether of people or animals, I prefer taking my own reference photos, so I have control over the light that describes my subject. When the subject is deceased, I don't have that luxury.<br />
This is the basic pose I used for the painting, which showed his long lines, and enough indication of his<br />
elegant "double coat," unique to his breed, and something I knew I had to capture.<br />
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These images gave me more information about the structure and details of Nimbus's powerful head.<br />
In particular my friend wanted me to capture his beautiful eyes, which she described as "the color of light<br />
coffee beans." Having done quite a few portraits of dogs in the past, I knew the ultimate "likeness" always<br />
comes down to the eyes. Pretty true with humans, for that matter. There is a saying; "The eyes have it."<br />
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After doing many compositional sketches I trace the final one onto the canvas, faintly seen here.<br />
I start with the most obvious and easiest part of the painting, just to get me going.. In this instance, one of Nimbus's favorite toys, a mailman doll. Unlike my landscape paintings, my portraits tend to be much tighter and detailed. I also early on establish the "darkest darks," (here; his paw) so I'll have a frame of reference when painting the mid-tones, and heading up to the "lightest lights."<br />
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When painting people I work either in oil or watercolor, but my preferred medium when painting animals is usually acrylics. Acrylics are water-based, thus easier when cleaning up. They also dry within a few minutes.<br />
The colors on my palette, no matter what the medium, are pretty basic. A warm and a cool version of the primaries red, yellow, and blue, an orange and a cool green, and two "Earth" colors; Raw Sienna and Burnt Sienna. I put out two piles of white; one for warm mixes and one for cool, so neither contaminates the other.<br />
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Using complementary colors I mix my own blacks, and with the addition of white, my own warm or cool versions of gray. One of my long time favorite artists, Jeanne Dobie, calls them "mouse colors." Next time you see a mouse in your kitchen, see if he or she is a "cool" gray or a "warm" gray. Or not.<br />
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Here is the finished painting of "Nimbus." I knew his owner's favorite color is "tomato red" (a warm red, not a cool red.) so I put him on a red rug in the room where his portrait now hangs. Nimbus looks down<br />
with his coffee colored eyes from his place above the fireplace. Our dear mutual friend loves the painting, and that makes me very happy. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-85530603140036849932014-12-12T17:37:00.000-05:002014-12-12T17:37:43.599-05:00Louise Ternay; Wife, Mother, Artist, Agent, And Adventurer.This past Saturday marked the seventh year anniversary of my wife Louise's death.<br />
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Louise was one of those "left-brain-right-brain" people who prided herself on her work ethic, and her ability to "Get the job done!" She did that as a Business person, and as an Artist.This is a water color I did of her<br />
when she was doing her co-op at the Fabric Workshop, in Philadelphia. Here she is cleaning a silk screen,<br />
part of the very involved process of printing images on fabric.<br />
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She explained the whole process to me one day, so I decided to do this illustration, based on her description. So many steps that must be done right. <br />
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Here is one of the many more "free form" hangings she loved doing.<br />
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As I've mentioned in other posts, going to the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts in Maine in the early seventies changed our family's lives forever. Louise expressed her love of crafts by taking classes in many mediums. Here she experimented in paper making, embedding leaves in the wedded layers of paper.<br />
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In this instance she put delicate natural fibers in the mix of wet paper, creating a subtle surface texture.<br />
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On three different occasions Louise spent a month at "Arcosanti," the experimental desert living community<br />
envisioned by Paolo Solari, seventy miles above Phoenix, Arizona.. While there she became a stone mason, building walls and fireplaces (Count Rumford) from rock she cut and gathered in the surrounding desert and canyons. It is here where the famous "Solari Bells" are made. This is a cartoon showing Louise "Before and After" her adventures...of which she had many.<br />
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In this ceramic tile her design reflects the architecture and graphics she saw while at Arcosanti.<br />
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A few years before she died, Louise took another class at Haystack. This time it was woodworking.<br />
She decided to build a rustic four-poster mortice and tenon cedar bed for our cabin.<br />
The eight poles cost us fifteen bucks at the local saw mill, and the two-week course at Haystack cost at least<br />
fifteen hundred bucks. She stripped each log, carefully cut and joined each section, and when assembled in<br />
our cabin bedroom, proudly carved "Made By Louise Kates Ternay," on the rail at the foot of the bed.<br />
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. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-55454982083845419122014-12-01T09:51:00.000-05:002014-12-01T09:51:03.659-05:00Thanksgiving, Family, And A Nostalgic Drawing.<div>
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Most of us are no doubt still indulging in leftovers, but I am indulging in nostalgia and childhood memories.</div>
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Thanksgiving this year was wonderful, delicious, and poignant. But throughout the festivities I was reminded<br />
of how thankful I am to have had the "Norman Rockwellian" childhood I shared with my parents and brothers, in South Jersey. This is a drawing I gave my parents and brothers at Christmas, in 1988, illustrating that upbringing. <br />
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On the left are my brother Bob and me in our teens. In the middle is my dad, Bud, and our mom, Helen, and my youngest brother, Frank, who sadly died within weeks of our father. Life and Death; still a magical mystery tour, to the end.<br />
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My parents had a country store, with a cast of characters from the local farming community. One of them, Billy McClintock, used to hold me over the grease pit and threaten to drop me in when I was little.<br />
On the roof is our pet crow, Blackie and on lower right is our dog. Someone had cut off her tail when she was a pup, so we called her Numpie.<br />
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In addition to the store, Pop farmed the land. I loved walking in the furrow behind the plow, especially on hot days. The freshly turned earth was cool under my bare feet. Cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, and always sweet South Jersey strawberries were favorite crops.<br />
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My brothers and I spent most weekends, even in winter, playing in the fields and woods. If the ice was thick enough we'd skate on the small pond in the woods. In the summer we'd take our horses and my Kodak camera, and make cowboy movies in the local gravel pits. I was always the noble, but of course treacherous, Indian. Forgive me, my Native American brothers.<br />
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On rainy weekends we'd play in the barn, daring each other to walk the beam from one side to the other.<br />
Or we'd have cap-pistol gunfights among the hay bales in the loft, scaring the nesting pigeons. The horse rearing below was brother Bob's palomino. It hated wearing a saddle, and would try to toss Bob.<br />
Pop got rid of that horse within a week. None of us had the nerve to use the brier covered outhouse, for fear of spiders, and snakes.<br />
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On hot summer mornings I'd often be awakened by the buzz of a bi-plane as it roared over our house.<br />
Beyond the woods were fields being dusted with chemicals dropped from the planes. Pretty horrific to<br />
contemplate, in hindsight. But I'll bet it was fun flying one of those relics.<br />
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Equally scary was our second grade teacher, "Miss Reeves." Our grade school was just across the road. I still have a vivid image of an angry Miss Reeves holding a belligerent student by his ankles, out the window, over the sandbox below, as punishment. For awhile Miss Reeves lived in the spare room in our house,<br />
so I had many reasons to not get on her bad side. <br />
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When I was a teen I'd often climb onto the roof at night to look at the glow on the horizon of what I assumed were lights from far away and mysterious Philadelphia. The lights were actually from the local town of Elmer, only about three miles away, and little did I know I'd spend most of my life living only blocks away from Philly. Note the cow staked out on the lawn. My Dad's way of cutting the grass.<br />
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With the exception of my brother Bob and me, everything I drew in this picture is long gone, except for some photos, and many wonderful memories. In the late 1950s the store, our house, the barn and outbuildings (and outhouse) and orchard, were razed. Where the barn once stood my brother Bob built a store patterned after "Seven Eleven." Above the entrance on the inside of the store are pictures of the old store, and of Bud and Helen making "Subs," and pumpkin pies...and...mmmmm... I wonder if we still have any pumpkin pie left over from Thanksgiving? I hope you all had a really enjoyable Thanksgiving, friends.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-70167131514786950052014-11-18T00:02:00.000-05:002014-11-18T00:02:02.587-05:00Coffee, Bagels, And Fine Art.Growing up in the '50s in South Jersey I spent most Friday nights, after bowling, hanging out at diners.<br />
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I still love diners, diner food, diner coffee, and diner lemon meringue pie. This is an illustration I did for what eventually became a "bas-relief" sculpted diner interior, to hang on a wall.<br />
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Here's a color sketch (not the "finish) for another client, who owns a puzzle company. In this case she wanted me to design a "Shaped" image. The "inside-outside" view is a bit "Surreal", but along the way I got an idea for yet another diner related project.<br />
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I love diner coffee mugs, and the same is true of bagels. So I thought; why not re-create some of my favorite artist's images, but also incorporate my coffee mug and bagel into the composition? No photo-shop here,<br />
just my left hand with a brush and paints. This is a famous painting by Van Gogh, of the chair in his room.<br />
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Pablo Picasso loved women, and here is one having a bit of brunch. Looks like she spent the morning bent over backwards, pleasing Pablo.<br />
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Trying to replicate the strokes in a watercolor is difficult enough, but one done by Cezanne is truly a challenge.<br />
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I suspect more people know the paintings of Dali than Magritte, his fellow Surrealist. But I think Magritte had a bit more of a sense of humor. Magritte would enjoy pointing out to you that is not a bagel on the plate.<br />
It is a painting of a bagel on a plate. This mind-twister was so much fun to do.<br />
Next one on my list will be a painting by Freda Kahlo. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-88350843569318606302014-11-11T19:37:00.000-05:002014-11-11T19:37:50.688-05:00The Obsessive Need To Fill Blank Pages With Drawings."Horror Vacui," from the Greek, refers to "fear of the empty." For a variety of reasons, hoarders have it,<br />
and historically artists in all cultures have displayed a need to "fill up that space with Art!"<br />
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"Wow, look at all that detail!" is a comment I often get from people viewing my sketches. What they are actually responding to is the variety of marks; from simple lines, to overlapping layers of cross-hatching<br />
suggesting mid to dark tones, as in the sketch above.<br />
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Unless I want an exacting portrait, I never rough things in with pencil. I start with my pen, usually on a person's eye, then let my pen take me for a walk across the page. My pen and I are not motivated by fear, but by FUN. At some point the drawing is pretty much all in simple "line." I was actually in line at the Post<br />
Office without my sketchbook when I got the urge to draw the folks ahead of me.<br />
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At some point I must decide whether to make the leap into texture. I use cross-hatching a lot when in a dimly lit bar or restaurant, in my attempt to imply the ambiance and intimacy of a place.<br />
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Sometimes, to make a dark area just a bit darker, I'l wet my finger and do a smudge; a "spit-wash."<br />
Here it is the in hair and top of this young artist. Then I've gone beyond just line, and it is an actual half-tone.<br />
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I often get seduced by what I hear people saying, or lyrics in songs, all adding another level of texture to the visual mix. This is my friend Joe de Pasquale, retired principle violist with the Philadelphia and Boston Symphony Orchestras. Now in his nineties, Joe still teaches at the Curtis Institute of Music.<br />
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This drawing was done while on vacation at our cabin on Deer Isle, Maine, in August. My son Pierce and his partner Maggi and band-mate Justin and my granddaughter Diver were performing that night at the "Black Fly Festival," in Machias. To make use of my time on the 3 hour ride the "Silver-Pop-Pop-Baby-Sitting-Roadie" did this view out the window. Lotsa' line and texture; not much actual crosshatching.<br />
As my old mentor at Channel three used to say, "We are Masters of the cheap optical trick."<br />
Next time; more tricks. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-80134692098037504352014-11-03T15:55:00.000-05:002014-11-03T15:55:45.961-05:00The Gentle Art Of Scaring Children Young And Old. Halloween has come and gone, but the fright lingers on. At least at the Ternay house.<br />
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Everyone has something that scares them silly, seems to me. For my favorite middle son, Pierce,<br />
that means Spiders and Clowns. I did this as a birthday card for him about ten years ago, when<br />
he lived with his band-mates in an old mill.<br />
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He loved it. (hee-hee)<br />
For me it's SNAKES.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-11788846087638625592014-08-03T18:14:00.000-04:002014-08-03T18:14:57.424-04:00"Creating In The Middle Of Things."The title of this post is from a book that I keep at my bedside. "Coaching the Artist Within," is one of many books written by<a href="http://ericmaisel.com/"> Eric Maisel,</a> a "Creativity Coach."for Artists of all kind.<br />
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Maisel's thoughtful and encouraging proddings help keep me on the straight and narrow path of dealing with all the "stuff" life throws at us daily, yet still maintain some form of creativity. The easiest way to keep in practice is to reach for my always handy sketchbook.<br />
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As you know by now, my sketches are done in a variety of locales, some on the fly in line at the post office or market, or a more lengthy wait at the doctor's office, or when I'm settled in at a restaurant or bar, or Barnes & Noble, or at an airport. The woman above and I had drops in our eyes at the Ophthalmologist..<br />
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Our local School Board was trying to quietly push through a project that would create a depot for High School buses in an already crowded residential area a few blocks from my home. Neighbors were up in arms about the proposal, needless to say. I felt an obligation to document the Board's confrontation with my fellow irate citizens. <br />
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I never know where my pen is going to take me.<br />
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But wherever we travel I know I'll encounter a cast of unsuspecting fellow characters, and a wonderful pile of shapes on the page.<br />
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I'll soon be creating a little book with drawings done over the past forty-five years at "Hymie's Deli."<br />
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And as long as they are performing within 25 or so miles from me, I'll show up to hear <br />
<a href="http://www.backboneblues.com/">"Dr. Ben's Backbone Blues Band."</a><br />
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I cannot resist putting in comments uttered by bartenders and fellow patrons. The total often makes for a funky composition that just evolves.<br />
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This man was more than a bit befuddled by who was paying for what...and yes, I know; <b>TMI!</b> <br />
Life and all the accumulation of stuff continues, and my sketchbooks get full.
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Last week I posted this portrait of my wife Louise on Facebook.<br />
Her birthday was on the 10th of July. She would have been seventy years old.<br />
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That image is one of many in a little photo essay I did about a wonderful old Inn, "The Watson," at "Twin Lakes," in the Pocono mountains of Pennsylvania. Our vacations there were nostalgic reminders for Louise of vacations spent there with her family, and eventually as a waitress.<br />
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The waitresses quarters were in the cramped, hot attic.<br />
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Part of the tradition of working as a waitress at the "Watson" was adding your signature to the many scrawled on the rafters over many years.<br />
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Here are the Innkeepers, Mr. and Mrs. Watson, with one of their sons.<br />
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Generations of families sat in rocking chairs, enjoying the view of the lake from the shaded porch,<br />
while waiting for the call to good old "Family-Style" dinners. Louise is in her favorite spot, and our first son,<br />
Will, is waiting for his dad to play horseshoes.<br />
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The chef taking a much needed break before shoving dozens of buns into the ovens for dinner.<br />
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I think the following images speak for themselves.<br />
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One year we took my mother Helen with us. It was her kind of vacation spot, for sure.<br />
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Each bedroom at the Watson House had at least one of these decorative Victorian wrought iron beds, covered with many coats of paint. After the Watsons finally closed the Inn in the early 1980s, Louise and I drove up to Twin Lakes one final time, to purchase one of the beds, which I still have. <br />
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The vacations spent at "The Watson" as a young family were at the very beginning of what would be our rich<br />
forty-three year marriage. As with most relationships we had our share of bumpy roads. Sometimes we were not even on the same road, but in hind-sight we realized we were destined to be there, for each other, when needed. I think this picture sums it up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirW9YTLChXTnbiX4LaI6MNMpZ_n9kZ6tUnEKVwA9Jiu7kfIIiGtiezvE9dcZWH7vIcuOA3RyR3gW0sedIvumieNJC39tqmea746IteIbS5fR_oa_EYdgNCgKhppD-keurmxDmwWamM8N8/s1600/2ndBill+MirrorWatson300dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirW9YTLChXTnbiX4LaI6MNMpZ_n9kZ6tUnEKVwA9Jiu7kfIIiGtiezvE9dcZWH7vIcuOA3RyR3gW0sedIvumieNJC39tqmea746IteIbS5fR_oa_EYdgNCgKhppD-keurmxDmwWamM8N8/s1600/2ndBill+MirrorWatson300dpi.jpg" height="400" width="294" /></a>Near the end of her life Louise would often<br />
ask me, "What are you going to do,<br />
Bill; what are you going to do?"<br />
Good question.<br />
Whatever it is, I seem to be doing it.<br />
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Thanks to my dear friend Peter Sasgen<br />
for making such beautiful prints over 45 years ago.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-52485979803198146482014-07-06T11:21:00.000-04:002014-07-06T11:39:18.813-04:00Painting At The 300th Birthday Party Of The Barns-Brinton House In Chadds Ford.<br />
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I recently had the pleasure of spending a Saturday painting with two of my fellow "Plein Air"<br />
friends,<a href="http://www.brunobaranfineart.com/Welcome.html"> Bruno Baran</a> and <a href="http://jacalynbeam.com/">Jacalyn Beam,</a> on the grounds of the Barns-Brinton House in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania.<br />
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There was a gentle rain when I arrived, and I found Jacalyn in the shelter of a tree, already half-way through one of her exquisite small oils.<br />
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Here is a sketch of Bruno as he worked on one of his paintings, also in oil.<br />
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By ten a.m. Reenacters were in place and mingling with the public as everyone celebrated the 300th anniversary of the Barns-Brinton House, a wonderfully preserved former colonial tavern built in 1714.<br />
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Because I enjoy talking to people about the process of doing a painting, especially when working in watercolor, I ended up finishing only one painting on this day. <br />
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Here is my painting, which I believe captures the historical ambiance of the day. Happily the Director of the <a href="http://www.chaddsfordhistory.org/">Chadds Ford Historical Society</a> felt the same way, because she bought it.<br />
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In spite of the hot weather, and for some, heavy clothing, the Reenacters stayed in character throughout the day, dancing and sharing their knowledge of what life was like for Colonial Americans 300 years ago.<br />
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At times I felt like I was on the back-lot of a Hollywood historical film set, with all these folks "in-character."<br />
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Mmmmm...perhaps next year I will join them.<br />
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<b>I hope you had a wonderful July Fourth weekend!</b><br />
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This recent Fathers Day was one of those days. I headed off into a sunny morning to first of all have breakfast at "Hanks Place," in Chadds Ford, the heart of Wyeth country. One of my cherished memories is having had a conversation with Andy himself, and an introduction to his muse, Helga, at Hanks.<br />
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I had decided most of this day was going to be spent wandering the galleries of the Delaware Art Museum, in Wilmington. I had an hour to kill before they opened at noon, so I stood in the shade and drew this bronze guy, the "Crying Giant". If he could stand he would be about 30 feet tall. Imposing, but he is a gentle giant.As I drew I truly felt empathy with him, and even more so when I read the sculptor, Tom Otterness, had created him in response to the 911 events.<br />
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I constantly remind my students painting and drawing is, first of all, about "shapes." And of course that is even more so when creating sculpture. The "positive" shapes are usually the subject itself, but equally important are the "negative" shapes, the spaces surrounding the subject...or in the case of three-dimensional sculpture, the spaces that weave in and around the art. The beauty of sculpture is those positive and negative shapes/spaces change as we move around the piece. This wonderful pile of geometric shapes is welded Cor-Ten steel with a beautiful weathered patina, about 25 feet tall.<br />
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Once inside the museum I almost immediately encountered, and fell in love with, this elegant female named "Ruth."Ruth is a life-size pearly white sculpture carved from marble by her creator, Randolf Rogers. The actual title of this piece is "Ruth Gleaning," referring to Ruth from the Old Testament.<br />
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One of the reasons I wanted to visit this gem of a museum is because of the incredible collection of works of American Illustrators. There are many wonderful images by Howard Pyle, considered to be the "Father" of American Illustration. N.C. Wyeth, patriarch of the Wyeth clan of artists,was one of Pyle's most famous students. <br />
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In total contrast was this wondrous and captivating piece by Tony Oursler, "Sybil and Me."<br />
Projected onto an eighteen inch ball is a very detailed video, a closeup of an eye, wrinkles, eyeball and eyelashes subtly moving, as the artist continually watches the 1976 film, "Sybil." Although I did not capture it in this sketch, if one focuses on the eye, you can see vague images of the film. Erie, surreal,<br />
and I thought wonderfully creative. I am constantly dazzled by my fellow artists.<br />
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When the museum closed I headed for one of my favorite places to draw, eat, sip a Manhattan, and end this date with me. "Buckley's Tavern", in Centerville. has long been a favorite hangout for Wilmington locals.<br />
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I could not resist one final stop; one more indulgence, before heading back to Bala Cynwyd.<br />
Just as they are at "Hanks," lines are always long at this ice cream stand on Rt. 202.<br />
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When I finally got home I was greeted by our next President, Ms. Hillary. My son had given her to me the night before as his gift.. All in all a most enjoyable way to spend, and end, this Father's day. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-48854506720989532992014-06-14T23:43:00.000-04:002014-06-14T23:43:59.094-04:00Some Kids Just Don't Get Enough Lovin' From Their Pappys. In the old days of the Wild West a man's sons often went astray.<br />
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Frank and Jessie James had a lust for robbing trains and stagecoaches.<br />
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Before Wyatt Earp and his brother Virgil got street cred as Deputy U.S, Marshals<br />
at the gunfight at the OK Coral, they and their brothers were constantly being run out of towns and territories<br />
for causing commotion amongst the local populace.<br />
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The Youngers took rowdiness to a new extreme, spitting in public places, causing commotion day and night, and were rumored to be cavorting with wimmin of questionable moral fiber at every opportunity.<br />
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The Dalton boys were just a downright nasty bunch who actually killed people. Eventually citizens formed Vigilante groups, taking the law into their own hands. Here are the Daltons, laid out for public display after a gunfight that concluded with their demise. One would hope; "Lesson Learned."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkG6HM7fbvOFVIXCZTXNpR8hccr3vdCgymoLqte6F5gJFXxLJtAljZmrphmFj6dTc6WZm9HKn7wfGFDaIynphJVzm5ogJZL5TkGRIJ0UbYlQuq7Pom_OGv3jN1j67bsT0INIsozryH_Do/s1600/OldWestTernayBoys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkG6HM7fbvOFVIXCZTXNpR8hccr3vdCgymoLqte6F5gJFXxLJtAljZmrphmFj6dTc6WZm9HKn7wfGFDaIynphJVzm5ogJZL5TkGRIJ0UbYlQuq7Pom_OGv3jN1j67bsT0INIsozryH_Do/s1600/OldWestTernayBoys.jpg" height="560" width="640" /></a></div>
For some reason Historians of the old west have overlooked the once infamous "Ternay Boys," varmints<br />
in their own right. Rumor has it the sons, Mason, Will, and Pierce, were encouraged by the family Patriarch, "Wild Bill," (center above) to live life to the fullest and savor every moment, whether sad or yoyous, to celebrate the unique qualities of their fellow humans, and to not take crap from anybody. <br />
<b>Happy Father's Day.</b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-68346839681436962532014-05-22T02:14:00.000-04:002014-05-22T02:14:25.175-04:00The Art Of Living A Very Full Life.When he was just a mere lad, my father, "Buddy" Ternay, was told by his 7th grade teacher that he<br />
would not be going into the 8th grade unless he completed a report about the country of China.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1IqVMtmOTSyhdiWQNMGB2LYm91cnd3jZOxtKy8GPyrTdK25HIxApMOeQFKwhjQHRgXM2m4LbJy2yndU963ZNCkAzubWuM2v6WQwb5gEfe7reAcwqMFG3b1cHT9JIaYS1a64jYp3fWmEs/s1600/PopYoungOldFarm+72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1IqVMtmOTSyhdiWQNMGB2LYm91cnd3jZOxtKy8GPyrTdK25HIxApMOeQFKwhjQHRgXM2m4LbJy2yndU963ZNCkAzubWuM2v6WQwb5gEfe7reAcwqMFG3b1cHT9JIaYS1a64jYp3fWmEs/s1600/PopYoungOldFarm+72dpi.jpg" height="320" width="236" /></a> Having been raised by a tough and very independent Irish mother who didn't take crap from anybody, my father told the teacher, " I am going to be a farmer and I can't see how knowing anything about China will make me a better farmer." Pop walked out of the Olivet School on that day and never looked back. It was the end of his formal education.<br />
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My father was a very dapper young man.<br />
He got his nickname because his good<br />
looks reminded many of the then popular<br />
movie star, Charles "Buddy" Rogers.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoEkymnlg3OS-_539Ysv6dcqLeGF3CoTa3CTcz8zkaqi2c0l8kTIGSIqhOpUWTfc7dtP9S8Gm-HoexZWQstRgk7M9iP-45vxb_TORTrvCMxkAUuVProZk-YNwoowMKR2ZPlX13TKiVoUI/s1600/BuddyRogers72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoEkymnlg3OS-_539Ysv6dcqLeGF3CoTa3CTcz8zkaqi2c0l8kTIGSIqhOpUWTfc7dtP9S8Gm-HoexZWQstRgk7M9iP-45vxb_TORTrvCMxkAUuVProZk-YNwoowMKR2ZPlX13TKiVoUI/s1600/BuddyRogers72dpi.jpg" height="200" width="192" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOYOv6FNo4JjnhC8JdyI3Adl3BwA7J-7ptF4lm91LoG7zOfMuvKghfN5_s-CvTuL5LSQZ3kLbhOf8Pzh5fDXDm0z5Dam5gDnorth6jSWeIciwEB8FLVGR2O_yCfvHjYz5bvmYl9BGQBk/s1600/PopNMomYoung72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLOYOv6FNo4JjnhC8JdyI3Adl3BwA7J-7ptF4lm91LoG7zOfMuvKghfN5_s-CvTuL5LSQZ3kLbhOf8Pzh5fDXDm0z5Dam5gDnorth6jSWeIciwEB8FLVGR2O_yCfvHjYz5bvmYl9BGQBk/s1600/PopNMomYoung72dpi.jpg" height="280" width="320" /></a>.<br />
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My dad met my mom, Helen Mason,<br />
at a "Speakeasy" in Vineland, New Jersey. They soon eloped to Elkton, Maryland, to get married. It seems running off to Elkton in the heat of passion was what young couples did, kinda' like another fad of the times, marathon dancing.<br />
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Their passion soon spawned three sons; William T. Jr., (with the gun) Frank, and Robert.<br />
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Bud and Helen were married for sixty-four years.<br />
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In addition to being farmers, they put in long hours in their country store.For over 31 years it was the social hub of the local farming community. The store also got raided every month or so because of the poker games played in the back room, late into the night.<br />
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My dad was famous for his "Subs," and at Thanksgiving, for his delicious Pumpkin pies.<br />
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When he finally retired, he had the dilapidated store moved to the field behind his house, nestled<br />
into the hedgerow. It was his visual "touchstone" to an enjoyable part of his past.<br />
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At 2: 34 p.m. on the 16th of May 2014, our father died, very peacefully, in his house and on the land he had<br />
farmed and loved for over sixty years. A week before he passed he said "If you own farmland, you've got to grow something on it." This is the last drawing I did of my father.<br />
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Although he was very much an Agnostic, I like to think that Pop's spirit will forever be linked to the fields he cultivated, plowed, nourished, and harvested, on his little piece of South Jersey. <br />
He will be missed by many.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-40853445319019651822014-05-02T12:48:00.000-04:002014-05-02T12:48:42.255-04:00Sketching And Unwinding With The Locals. <br />
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Yesterday my Dad finally got his wish; to be released from the rehab facility he's been in for the past twenty days, and get back to his little South Jersey home, and his five tomato plants.<br />
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After my visits with him I would head out to find a place to eat, have a drink, unwind, bring my journal up to date, and of course, draw.<br />
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If it was in the afternoon I might meander the aisles of a nearby Barnes and Noble, checking out Art books I really couldn't afford.<br />
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Or get coffee and something evil at the Dunkin Donuts.<br />
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If later in the evening I'd explore local bars and restaurants, where "characters" were in abundance.<br />
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One Friday night I found myself surrounded by locals who were hard-core...and often very talented,<br />
"Karaoke" singers. I was tempted... but decided instead to indulge my ego within the comfort and safety of<br />
my sketchbook pages. Maybe next time. <br />
Welcome home, Pop.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-76230535727920000532014-04-15T10:20:00.000-04:002014-04-15T10:20:50.261-04:00Back In The Hospital, Sketchbook In Hand.Six months ago, when my 101 year old dad was last in the hospital, he and his roommate revolted.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eZdZSVgq7Kf6U0d-eF1dzJckY27SgKC4_MeAJR4rwNfnqAgd9GKHEl85Y_zL2I_AQ0r8bIPOuZjdvmNKZuyc4UXCqLyvBT-i7ImXLWVRH5Pn5kahl2yrnLs1Pn6lat5xAg-PQ-rYzgA/s1600/CartoonDadsHospitalRevolt+72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3eZdZSVgq7Kf6U0d-eF1dzJckY27SgKC4_MeAJR4rwNfnqAgd9GKHEl85Y_zL2I_AQ0r8bIPOuZjdvmNKZuyc4UXCqLyvBT-i7ImXLWVRH5Pn5kahl2yrnLs1Pn6lat5xAg-PQ-rYzgA/s1600/CartoonDadsHospitalRevolt+72dpi.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
Each had been hallucinating for days, for various reasons. My dad even called 911 in the middle of the night.<br />
This cartoon still hangs on the wall in the Nurse's Station.<br />
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Unfortunately, about two weeks ago Pop had to once again be admitted to the hospital, for the same recurring problems.<br />
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Needless to say, he was not a happy camper.<br />
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These days, when anyone asks what's wrong with him, he replies "Too many birthdays!"<br />
But when asked what he attributes to his longevity he delights in saying, "Fast horses and slow women!"<br />
Actually I may have that backwards. <br />
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To cheer him up I stopped one morning to do a quick sketch of one of his favorite places to visit; the lake at Parvins State Park, near his home in South Jersey.<br />
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He looked at the sketch briefly, smiled, then went back to sleep.<br />
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Pop is now in a rehab facility. Like the energizer bunny, I suspect he still has lots of life left in him.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-9736646332101047942014-04-04T01:48:00.002-04:002014-04-05T17:59:22.716-04:00The Innocent Eyes of Children. I seem to be experiencing a need to share with the world the creative expressions of my sons and granddaughter, Diver. Today Ms. Diver is SEVEN years old. Taaaa-Taaaa!<br />
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Diver's gift to me this past Christmas was a book, written and illustrated by her. On various pages her Mama Maggi wrote Diver's words, verbatim. The following is the first chapter of five. Enjoy.<br />
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Stay tuned for chapter two of Pippy's adventures.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6961203811028907861.post-74132510394261749722014-03-30T12:24:00.000-04:002014-03-30T12:24:57.430-04:00A Creative Marriage From The Get-Go.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQ-E27liXqezVDuLhYPe0E68jGjeNHg2iCJHmNH4TLE4Rh6LOl9eXbe3xQ004IdyO2CQV_wuFMB0BmgoZlQEshmgiDnobWlGMI2tVmmeK5tDofrsb7DeVQbX-QfQ6ZF2M9ORky9ve0iM/s1600/Louise+WithBoys72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQ-E27liXqezVDuLhYPe0E68jGjeNHg2iCJHmNH4TLE4Rh6LOl9eXbe3xQ004IdyO2CQV_wuFMB0BmgoZlQEshmgiDnobWlGMI2tVmmeK5tDofrsb7DeVQbX-QfQ6ZF2M9ORky9ve0iM/s1600/Louise+WithBoys72dpi.jpg" height="441" width="640" /></a></div>
My wife Louise really loved her three very creative sons, Will, Pierce and Mason.<br />
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Two Saturdays ago Will had the pleasure of marrying his fiancee, Stacey Doll, in a very unique and creative ceremony in Chester county, Pennsylvania.><br />
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The day was sunny and warm, which I suspect could not be said for the middle of the Brandywine Creek,<br />
where the ceremony took place.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5H5zLPSZqkEw2J61XEMEC8ZLl8Xx0KukU00hH06pvni6sjEv6cZ672f6QdInkmOylPlc98sHOjHAN0iPhyu8wVCEwLrUMnOVOyqhA5zoUxk9qHm7lWECaXkX9aNOnWOWFWOIBqO-VQI/s1600/WilStcyWdngBrdg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5H5zLPSZqkEw2J61XEMEC8ZLl8Xx0KukU00hH06pvni6sjEv6cZ672f6QdInkmOylPlc98sHOjHAN0iPhyu8wVCEwLrUMnOVOyqhA5zoUxk9qHm7lWECaXkX9aNOnWOWFWOIBqO-VQI/s1600/WilStcyWdngBrdg.jpg" height="472" width="640" /></a></div>
About thirty friends and family members looked down on the bride and groom as they exchanged vows.<br />
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And of course posed for photos as they braced themselves against the current. The event and the beautiful environment were overflowing with love and metaphor.<br />
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The reception was held a short distance away in a rustic and very historic Inn. I got there early and went wandering up on the second floor. I do lots of sketching in old Inns in South Jersey.<br />
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As I heard people gathering in the dinning room below, I could swear I saw fleeting images of guests<br />
enjoying social events in this very inn, many decades in the past?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwJtDC1Rt4AOyXCCSipFm5sc78loNYuuaqnuheLwdEfGC4Ae5SmvT6SQoPVOpCZVC6mS4JNmh-_xPh_nl_AkOax0PoTlyz8bcKqxMhpf1wk5U8BsdCwMs-5umJ2kU_RmnHZjj6R0MCv8/s1600/WlStcyWdngCake72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwwJtDC1Rt4AOyXCCSipFm5sc78loNYuuaqnuheLwdEfGC4Ae5SmvT6SQoPVOpCZVC6mS4JNmh-_xPh_nl_AkOax0PoTlyz8bcKqxMhpf1wk5U8BsdCwMs-5umJ2kU_RmnHZjj6R0MCv8/s1600/WlStcyWdngCake72dpi.jpg" height="400" width="312" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw6oMIYw56eVbvdD7tTAjskzawcraNORuHRiWFtYBbCgQxLsU0Jd1J2A8k81cM9oVMo9NDK7DBBiPzRmHSK01FiEe9b0FgGkQg8O3OQnolzTz2Wnnv1OGZfWu-rbJ054fKr05nOLFrAs/s1600/LouiseTostingFlorence+72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaw6oMIYw56eVbvdD7tTAjskzawcraNORuHRiWFtYBbCgQxLsU0Jd1J2A8k81cM9oVMo9NDK7DBBiPzRmHSK01FiEe9b0FgGkQg8O3OQnolzTz2Wnnv1OGZfWu-rbJ054fKr05nOLFrAs/s1600/LouiseTostingFlorence+72dpi.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a> Wherever she is, I'm sure Louise was offering her love and best wishes to her son Will, and his new bride.<br />
Welcome to our family, Stacey. You and Louise would have been like two peas in a pod. <br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03993326014397185465noreply@blogger.com3