Able, Alto

Monsoons season is upon us. How do I know? Sighted this week; one tarantula, one palo verde beetle and one Colorado river toad.  All these come out right before the rains start.They creep and crawl around my back door looking for a way in. The crickets start to chirping too.  They've been active for a few weeks, walking, stalking, hopping and creeping around but not so much as a peep...until this week. Oh, and of course the artist has started painting billowing thunder heads and rain-laden lowering skies redolent and ambrosial, harking back to better times when the world was young.

Black Widow, Red Sky, Black Canyon

The black widow was poised for a strike.  She was hidden beneath my favorite early morning chair next to my favorite early morning lamp.  Her strong web laces strung somehow between heaven and earth seemed to float her sick black orb in just the spot my hand would sleepily and automatically go to retrieve my favorite early morning pencil. Too bad for her my hands know their craft...and the feel of the venomous strands of putrid death.  The unmistakable strength of the orb weaver's lair and the well know hissing and chirping all venomous and truculent spiders make (Gilligans Island and Lord of the Rings) tipped me off.   I quickly grabbed a spray can of my own poison; furniture lacquer touch-up.  Yes, all master craftsman of my generation know the fast and deadly effects of lacquer when applied directly to any creature with an absorbent exoskeleton. This little black beauty was the size of a large half dollar piece.  Sorry about the blurry photo...I tried the camera on "macro" lens.  The paintings here are for sale on the 'bay.

Crow & Sparrow are not friends

A bird a day.  Can I do it?  I would like to.  I'll have to see how many feathers are in my hat. FYI, the studio is full of stuffed birds, bird wings and fine feathers of various makes and models.

Rooster Steed 12x15

I think in another reality I would love to ride a giant rooster, mask over my eyes, a red scarf about my neck and silver spurs on my boots.  Wielding a Scythian sword I would fly to the rescue of every child and damsel in distress.  Unfortunately, it appears I'll just have to settle for this reality and ...paint flattering pictures of my favorite steeds .  I need to update the photo of this 'cause I worked a bit on it after I took the picture.  That's what happens when you leave a painting on the easel too long.

Charlie, Dusk, Charlotte's web

Picture Three: The web caught the last rays of a late spring eve inside the hen house. Charlotte spoke to me as I collected four brown eggs. The chickens ate her.  End of story. The moral is that pigs make better roommates than you might think.

Picture One: Charlie looked down on me while I slept.  He's my Mexican guardian angel when I stay at the in-laws (last weekend...it's Carmen's grandfather). Eddie is my oldest boy (19). He's leaving next week to spend three months in Alaska to work the salmon season.  He is the chief frame maker in our little artistical enterprise here in the desert.  He will be missed but old Eli is planning on taking up the slack while his big brother is away.  Eddie plans to send dad lots of fish fillets...and hopes to inherit the photo of Charlie Chaplin, uh, I mean his great grandfather one day.

Picture Two: New painting titled "Dusk" It measures 12x18 inches, canvas mounted on board.  For sale on auction here.

Red Dreagon 15x12, Brighter 24x15

Overheard...."One of the great injustices of our times is how a tiny minority of people can claim to be offended by something and take the rights away from millions. This culture-choking perversion is the fruit of one of the great deceptions of our times—political correctness".

Two coachwhips (red racers) rescued from the swamp.  They're fast, aggressive, like to bight and chase you down but are otherwise harmless.  Birds, rats, gophers, a few lizards and the odd horned toad have made it into the morass that during the summer months is an aqua blue gem of refreshing, inviting, invigorating liquid pile of therapy. Some people call it a swimming pool.  I prefer to refer to it as my own little duck pond.

You're Golden 30x12, Westerly 24x30

I've turned down 3 prime chances to explore the dark continent, two of them were paid for!  If the opportunity presents itself again I'll be a double fool for not pouncing on it forthwith. One of my heroes is Dr. Livingston of  "Stanley I presume" fame. Between his writings, Hemingway's and Theodore Roosevelt's I've lived a thousand African adventures and through them vicariously tasted both the pith and the marrow of blood-earnest,  life-or-death adventure.  Not that I've lacked for my own mind you. It's just that these stories were the fuel that served as the questionable springboard that sent me flying into numerous tropical and western follies of my own concoction. Teddy R. was a top-notch explorer and a keen observer of flora and fauna and culture and custom...and was as handy with a pen as he was with his favorite gun - a Winchester repeating rifle. I find in Teddy a kindred spirit. Both of us have been on the trail of  man-eating jaguars and we both have had our life-span shortened by a few years from tropical diseases (malaria & etc.) gained by following said trail of said man-eater.  I have also experienced something that has disturbed my mental equipoise on various occasions when trying to relate my scientific socio/bio observations gleaned from years of being tossed around in the blender of third-world intrigue with other supposed intrepid and knowledgeable adventurers. In my varied travels to the hinterlands of central and south America in pursuit of creatures both living and dead (remember the grave robing?) I've noticed that the native hunters, woodsmen, ranchers, gauchos and would-be presumptive go-to authorities on the ways of the wild in any given territory are very often the most ignorant when it comes to the actual habits and behaviors and true knowledge of the beasts in their own backyards.  Teddy observed this same thing. My heretofore well educated and well meaning collegues have been slow to ackowledge this ignorance in favor of  the "sincerity over substance" argument. Well, chapter 3 (pg.55) of T. Roosevelt's Through The Brazilian Wilderness puts my disturbed mental state at rest once again.  Finally someone who understands why I refused to wait up all night for the for the ghost of the lion to appear.
These two ghost-like paintings are available for sale on eBay and ETSY.

Mocking Bird Gonna Sing All Eve

I counted at least two new songs last night.  The mockingbird has been singing outside our window for the last several days, uh, nights.  As in ALL night long.  So far I have counted around 25 distinct songs. I think he found a mate 'cause last night he only went to about 12 and then sang no more.  It's the lonely bachelor that's pining for love that sings at night. It is a bit annoying but it is beautiful. Kind of like having house guests. Since Christmas over 40 people have stayed with us.  In fact last weekend was the first time we've had the house to ourselves in more than three months. That turned out to be a momentary anomaly in the time-flux capacitor because a small party of friends crashed our party on Friday and stayed the night.  We had a musical jamboree preceded by deep contemplation and spiritual agitation.  Strange combo indeed.  Every other Friday we gather to read  the scriptures out loud together.  No bible study is planned, just reading and thinking.  I know it sounds like it has the makings for a boring night out but the house literally fills up with twenty somethings and a few thirty somethings, some teens and even the odd, dare I say, fifty year old geezer can be found in our midst. Anyway, public reading of God's words is a great practice. I highly recommend it. Very encouraging and...a bit agitating.  So, after a time of this (we can usually only handle a few chapters before deep conviction hits, robes are torn and tears start to flow) we breathe a collective sigh and... break out the instruments of cheer. Djembes, banjos, guitars, horns, harmonicas and  fiddles all just magically appear and a great swell of musical gladness fills the air. It would be a regular all night hoe down if ceretain of us didn't have an appointment to go listen to the mockingbird right outside their bedroom window.  He starts promptly at 9:30

Magic Trees 15x24, Trees Near The Park 24x15 Uncle Bob, Uncle Phil

I have a fairly famous uncle. We are somewhat estranged being that he is who he is and I, well, let's just say that I'm the one who does the staying in touch. He won a grammy award in '97 for best album of the year and a whole bunch of people piled on the BD bandwagon then. All through the late 70's and 80's and even in the 90's nobody cared a whit for my dear old uncle Bob. And there we were, the faithful few pulling for him, praying for him and keeping his memory alive. Now every young pop tart that comes along lays claim to some sort of association with him. These are the neo "musicians" who have never played their harps till their lips bled, never made a harmonica holder out of a coat hanger and definitely never played their music out in a cold field in October in northern Minnesota with frozen fingers...in exchange for beer.
I have another uncle (unbeknownst to him) who lives in rural Louisiana. He is the Duck Commander, his name is Phil and he espouses and aptly expresses (albeit with a Cajun flavor) all I hold dear in this life. A & E cable channel is making a spectacle of my uncle Phil and all kinds of Johnny-come-lately dudes who have never even blown a duck call, let alone made one are gonna be rushing in to get in on the action and, consequently, make it difficult for him to invite me out to the duck blind. So it is with fame. I heard my name over the loudspeaker at the Children's Rehab clinic the other day (one of the kids) I got to thinking that this might just be my fifteen seconds of fame. For what it's worth, I have done the above with both duck calls and harmonicas and it has got me just about nowhere. However, I have a standing offer to trade a painting for a mouth harp or a duck call from Bob or Phil. Until I hear from them and get called out on tour I will be found in my little desert studio painting pretty pictures of fantabulous places both real and imagined.

Saber-Tooth dog fish in the Amazon

To consider oneself an expert on any given subject implies that there has been some serious effort put forth over a long period of time. Laboring under every imaginable circumstance to probe every possibility with tenacity, you might, over an extended period of time become, indeed, an "expert" at something. Such is the case with me in a matter with which I have become extremely familiar and, I might say, quite adept. Having had the daily practice now for many moons and having had the blessed opportunity to "try" many brands under many circumstances I do now consider myself to be an expert at flossing teeth. Yes, I have my favorite floss (Reach Total Care by Johnson & Johnson) and favorite techniques (forehand and backhand, middle finger tie off, 13 inches never reuse) and there even exists a small but very close society of fellow flossophiles that share my enthusiasm (Ana & Carmen). The picture above is memorable not because I was in the amazon rain forest dodging poison arrows and catching saber-toothed fish but because I didn't have any floss with me and no way to get any for weeks. Of course I unraveled bits of cloth to make do. By the time we got back to civilization I was barely clothed...but my gums shone with the healthy glow of a thousand sunsets.

Mountain of Dreams 30x40, Fire Storm Sky 36x24

I've been working a lot smaller lately and here's two giant paintings to disprove that theory. I've almost forgotten what a workout making these big ones can be. Lots of energy goes into elaborating a canvas this size and now that I'm not inhaling a 44 oz. Thirst buster-a-day I'm not sure where the nuclear fusion is taking place. I guess being a cinquentarian has its benefits and I plan to continue to plumb the depths of the vast and profound chasms that storehouse the secret treasures of wisdom and knowledge wherein lie hidden all that's necessary to do this. The scroll and the ring were given to me on the 30th of March. The map I can follow...but it's the dang Elvish that I'm really struggling with.

Day of Birth 24x36

I was going for the Maxfield Parrish colors on this one. They are really fun to paint but costly as they tend to use up a lot of cobalt blue. I'm going to guess that cobalt comes from the mines of Moria 'cause they sure are proud of that stuff. Anyway, this is listed for sale on etsy and the bay.

I get letters from folks from time to time via the blog. They come with no way to reply so...if you'd like to write (and for me to write back) and you don't have a blogspot ID than feel free to write me at LosHawkins@Yahoo.

Surround yourself with friends who really understand you

I don't know if you remember but way back when I was in my forties I had an accident while on the widow maker. An update is in order but first get a look at the card I received yesterday. It seems someone had the wrong birthday party on their GPS when they showed up. The retirement community is just down the road. I really don't know why they stuck around and left it (the card) but it sure would've been funny for someone who is getting up there in age. Here I will mention though that there were a number of attendees who are also eying the half-century mark. I won't name names (last names) but Elsa, Scott, Kurt and a good-sized pile of our contemporaries are about to join the fun. And now that I have passed through the time portal I must tell you that life over here is full of wonder and indescribable joys. Yes, the grass really is greener on this side of the fence and I plan to gallop like a young colt o'er the verdant hills and vales spread out before me with nary a care in the world and a Mona Lisa smile stuck to my face for many years to come.
The leg is almost in a position to do the galloping and but for a bit of swelling everything is healing up nicely. The painting pictured here is titled "The Fire Within" ...made on my birthday. No slacking here.

Year Of Jubilee

Three of the four kids are in college. They left the house today early am with my unheeded but loaded words trailing behind like so much fragrant leaded-gas exhaust fumes from my dad's '62 Rambler. (boy did that stuff smell good) "Just remember, I've already forgotten more than you'll ever know". It seems they don't really get the big picture sometimes and the older I get the more I'm aware that this picture show doesn't last forever. Lucky for me this will be the best 50th birthday I've ever had. The kids will gather around a big ol' table along with friends and family from far and wide and we will all pay homage to the amazing grace of God that keeps and protects us for so long. My uncle Bob put it pretty well once when he sang, "...By this time I'd-a thought that I would be sleepin' in a pine box for all eternity". Well, here I am on the eve of the jubilee year celebration. Carmen got me a new guitar (Epiphone es-335) and we're fixin' to roast-up a few goats and chickens and have us a regular shindig. There should be lots of festivating and general merrymaking and as the evening winds down, like all good Hobbits, we will pull out our Churchwardens and silently contemplate the morrow. Stay tuned for new paintngs to come from my well-seasoned half century-old hand.

Orange Blossom 24x30, Jaques Marsh 24x18

Just before i spit out a big mouthful of red oil paint I woke up. I'm glad i did 'cause I was about to slobber all over my pillow. It's just that the dream was so vivid. I guess I've been wondering what cad. red tastes like. Well, now I know or at least I think I do. (If you're interested, it tastes like frosting off a cup cake...till you realize it's oil paint, then you need to cough it up) Last night my junior high buddy Randy and i were climbing a snow covered hill. We kept pulling each other down as we clambered to get to the top. It was a grand and hilarious old time playing king-of-the-hill 'till Carmen started jabbing me in the ribs thinking she was rescuing me from a terrible nightmare. It seems my dream laughs come through as whimpers of fright and sounds of sobbing.
So you see, waking or sleeping, the tortured artist's soul finds no reprieve from the bouts of conscience and pangs of guilt, anxiety and self loathing we are constantly bombarded with. This is my burden and I gladly bear it for you.

Blue Moon II, Asuwer

Two new paintings to keep the subscription current.

Skylark 18x24 Man With Book

The picture above kind of reminds me of the time I was caught grave robbing in central America. I was forced to return a skull and some amulets carved from black coral and jade. It was probably for the better and since no one really ever asks why I don't have an ancient human skull encrusted with rubies and diamonds in my collection of artifacts I guess it's not missed...that much.
The evening was warm and the salt air diffused all light, casting an amber haze and foggy halo to every silhouette. I lay there with a great book in my hand letting my eyes adjust to the fragrant verses before me. Wonderful Names of Our Wonderful Lord was the title. A trio of fat-bellied spiders hung suspiciously in the corner above the bed and they cast huge shadows on the rough plastered red brick wall. Carmen was afraid. I laughed. They moved with clumsy, mechanical motions. Before the light went out this picture was taken. I dreamed that a Black Widow spider bit my finger and it glowed like burning coal, then turned black and fell off. So you see, the sources for painting inspiration are endless. All you have to do is risk life and limb and travel to the ends of the earth and eat piles of questionable food and learn several foreign languages and loose your health and get dengue fever and malaria and hepatitis. And then...buy a set of oil paints!

Los Mocosos, Petra, Jessica, Susanna, Adriel

This video contains the song of the meadowlark described in the blog post below. You can hear it clearly all throughout this short and silly comedy which contains another song in the foreground. It is not worth translating. (just look up "moco" in Spanish if you really have to know) But if you'd like to know what the meadowlarks are saying just write me at LosHawkins@yahoo and I will transcribe it for you. Carmen and i were near the coast at her folks sleepy little farming/fishing town called Los Buidbores. It's about 450 miles south of the border (from Az.) in Sonora state Mexico. Banditos were all around us, as you can see, and of course I was able to fend them off with my sword and cane as any gentlemen would.

Wine River 20x15

We made another raid into enemy territory and returned unscathed and none the worse for it, I think. It would be incorrect to say the song of the meadowlark was the great highlight of our journey but the bucolic birds were out in full force giving full throat to their magical song. One morning I was enjoying the metallic and echoed notes while sleepily lazing on the veranda in our family hacienda. My melodic and melancholy muse was suddenly cracked asunder by a blaring loudspeaker announcing some sort of propaganda as an old, rusty truck of questionable make and vintage rumbled its way down the salt/dirt track between wheat fields to our little pueblo, Los Buidbores. I scarcely paid but a half-cocked ear to what the clamorous ruckus was about. Giant megaphones tied to the top of the cab let everyone within a 5 mile radius know what we never knew we were missing and that we could get it here and now "Servicio al Domicilio" as we say in ol' Mejico. I was prescient, however, of the fact that my morning meditation and mood, as powerfully alluring and dreamy and compelling as it was, could now never be recovered. I gave myself then to listening (at 10 million decibels did I have a choice?) to the offer proffered over the loudest loudspeakers I've ever heard. And almost suddenly and without warning I was translated from one charmed hypnosis to another. Wait! What's this? A "magical potion made from shark's liver that will heal broken bones and relieve aching joints". They had me now. Am I so susceptible to the allures of modern sorcery and fish parts that I just give in to the first batch of snake oil I see? I guess the answer is yes. I bought a 3 dollar jar of the magical cream and chatted it up with the salesman for a good 5 minutes while my wife stood there grinning and chuckling at my gullibility. As we walked away from the little mobile pharmacy the loudspeaker declared..."You see that couple walking there? ...just now they were cured of a terrible cold and cough". A cough, what was he talking about? I've got a bunch of screws and a steel rod waiting to burst out of my leg at every step!

I hope to upload a video soon. In the background you can hear the meadowlark song. It's a bit different than the western meadowlark we're all used to. Maybe two notes shorter. It could be a Lilian's Meadowlark. Anyway, I will try to channel their watery, golden-flute song into my next few paintings.

Winnifred 24x30, Ruby 15x20 (Sisters)

It's rodeo week in Tucson. The kids are out of school (they even close the colleges), the spring birds are singing like crazy and everyone is polishing their boots and silver bolo ties. All wait in breathless anticipation for the crowning of this year's rodeo champ. Who will it be? I could hardly hazard a guess what with all the gayly clad entrants and what not. Maybe I'll just do like I do every year and...completely ignore this singularly Tucsonian event. I will paint away the hours and every now and then try to imagine why anyone would want to learn to walk bow-legged. Believe me, it's not comfortable. I'm contemplating taking my cane with me to Mexico this weekend. One, to stave off would be attackers and two, to garner all the sympathy I feel I got coming. From what I've heard, it seems my erstwhile Latino counterparts haven't fully appreciated the gravity of my recent injury. I'm going to set them straight hoping to get a few extra special meals out of the deal. Trees, shorebirds (they won't make it into paintings) and irrigation canals will be my photographic targets. Hopefully we'll get some good inspiration for another couple of masterpieces. Until then, enjoy these two new beauties. They are for sale/auction on the Bay.

Cold Moon 18x12, Orange Blossom 18x12, Lowland Graze 24x18

Here's three more little jewels mined from the depths. The tricky part is to know how to crack open the tectonic plates. From there the rest is easy. It's not too unlike a trip to the landfill. You think that your heavy steel crowbar will have enough snort to hold the chain as you drive off with a load of junk in the trailer. The junk, tied to the chain which is wrapped around the crowbar staked to the ground is supposed to hold the load as the trailer pulls away. This makes for an easy off-load...saves maybe 30-45 minutes. However, that 1inch diameter crowbar can (and does) bend! Sometimes you need to stake-in a big ol' spud bar to get the job done. Yeah, just like oil painting at the easel. And you thought you needed to attend a high-priced workshop to learn how to paint. Just don't forget your miner's hat and flashlight.

Goldenrod, wedgewood Moon, Westerly

Here's three new happy paintings. The top one called Goldenrod is the view we had traveling through Utah not long ago, just south of Bryce Canyon. I've not embarked on any road trips lately and am feeling it's about time I get out of the cabin and stretch my legs a bit. Does titanium stretch? I'll have to be careful with the left one. The last thing you want is a bunch of screws strewn over the roadway. I'm thinking either California near Monterrey to check on our galleries or...a trip south to Mexico to see if we can't get thrown in and out of jail for the weekend. Either way I'll keep the blog posted and be sure to take detailed notes. Meanwhile, enjoy these three for sale and auction here.

The Roaring Wind 24x18, Tree Elf 24x15

Can you be fat and fit? This, the compelling title of an article in the latest issue of Runner's World. In my case it should be called Limper's World. Do I run? Well, I fancy myself a jogger of sorts and since I have a marathon on the list of things I'll not accomplish by age 50 I guess I could qualify in a kind of round about manner. I didn't really take notes but what I recall from reading this article is that for every year you age past forty you will gain a pound per month if you don't excersise a corresponding increase of 1/2 hour per day... or eat seven meals less per week. Don't quote me on this but by age fifty you should be running about 47 miles per day and eating one leaf of spinach per week just to maintain your middle-aged physique. This to say that after 3 plus months of convalescence I am about 230 lbs overweight and need to get in about 7 or 8 marathons before my birthday ...or, I will implode. Needless to say. I don't read Runner's World much anymore. I do paint however and am on pace to break a few records...two thousand paintings and counting...here's a couple more from the vault.

Black Cavendish, Abythar 18x12 (sold) Bumble Bee 30x24

Maybe you've wondered how catch and release hunting is actually accomplished. What techniques do they employ?, you've asked yourself. Well, the picture above gives a certain amount of insight as to what really happens in the duck blind of our exclusive and soon-to-be patented club. I even have pictures of young men gazing wistfully towards the horizon, wreathed in aromatic wisps of fragrant Black Cavendish, hoping for a glimpse of wing tips through garlands of evocative haze. Of course if I let those loose on the www that could seriously jeopardize our fledgling movement, not to mention my standing with certain religious folk. Be that as it may, I intend to continue my intense pursuit of the Face of righteousness and love and to surround myself with ducks of many colors...and paint pretty pictures...and wonder if C.S. Lewis smoked a pipe along with his buddy J.R. Tolkien...in a duck blind.

BROKEN LEG UPDATE: Last eve I walked/ jogged a mile! It was the first time in over three months of takin'-it-easy that my heart had a chance to pump at over 20 beats per minute (exaggeration) It felt good (and painful) and with 50 yrs. on this planet looming like a large metaphysical portal into another world I am determined to make the best of it. March will see all kinds of birthdays of significance this year and I'll be here to gladly receive congratulatory pats on the back from friends near and far. The paintings pictured are available for purchase or bidding wars here.

Baa Baa Black Sheep 16x20

This was a recent commission. Winter notwithstanding, these sheep are as happy as they are sassy. They are, after all, black sheep and we expect nothing less from them. Maybe you've been labeled the black sheep of your family. Well, as far as I can tell you're in good company.
Another big ol' moon painting will be listed for sale on eBay tomorrow. It would have gone out today but the photography has to wait till the shiny parts dry a bit.

My therapy continues and I have been mucking through marsh and mire the last few weeks practicing Catch and Release hunting as per doctor's orders. The season was a good one and I took many a photo of sunrise and steam pouring off the effervescent effluent that flows north from Tucson's epicenter. Another 30x40 masterpiece is in the making so stay tuned.

Pendragon Circle 30x40

I've really got to get better at taking pictures or get a better camera. The bright spots get way over exposed and even working a little photoshop magic can't seem to correct it. The clouds in this have a lot of great color and stuff going on that is lost on the poor photography/image.

I named this after a Sci-Fi story we've all read. Certain books make their rounds in our family and there was a series we consumed a few years back that almost consumed us. It was an otherworldly tale of dragons and sorcerers, fair maidens and knights...not too unlike my real life. This sky above is seen at the time of day called the "time between times" when travel to other dimensions is possible. Doctor Who and I have the same screwdriver and time machine so we don't really need to trifle with "special" times to travel the time/space continuum. Most of you, however, need something akin to this painting to get you started. Feel free to check it out...for sale on eBay here.