DNA

There are things you are born with. They are as inescapable as your own DNA and love for your mother. That is how it is with my fondness for ducks. One would think you could take the boy out of the swamp, place him in a dry desert land for thirty years and the marshyness would dry up right out of his blood. Well, not so. The dynasty band has jumped on my wagon and I'm not too happy about it. I have been bog slogging once again (not to be confused with blog sogging which is what I'm doing now) and the wetlands are awash with wannabee fowlers and they are testing my patience. The true love of the duck is an inherited trait passed down from generations of royal blood imbued with the rankness of rotting cattails, mud, and  muskrats and a heart that beats in rhythmic syncopation with the wingbeat of every wild goose flying south for the winter. You do not become a waterfowler by watching uncle Si on Wednesday nights. I need to paint a bird or two to get this out of my system. The tire swing pictured here is part of my therapy...also I am selling off part of my duck herd.  I have too many beautiful Black East Indie ducks.  Seven are for sale.  If you're interested in either you can find more info. here.

Sailing Pheasants

Beautiful brace of ring neck pheasants.  Ahh, reminiscent of days gone by.  It has been too long since the savoryness of upland game from the north country has graced my table.  These two fellows were persuaded to sit as models for my still life painting sometime back in 1995.  As I recall, these were hanging just outside my shop door in Billings, Montana. Of course it must have been in October or November of that year...the founding of my unsuccessful catch-and-release hunting club. I came about this long lost painting through a series of unfortunate events. But like a faithful boomerang it came back to me...one of my very first oil paintings. The long painting of slippery sloops is a brand new effort. It will be made available for purchase here.

Fearsome Foursome. California/Arizona

The weather change has been nice.  Warm days with dry cool breezes and fresh evenings make for open windows, no air conditioners or swamp coolers and... happy paintings.  We went to the Getty museum a couple of weeks ago, swam in the surf, and thoroughly enjoyed Los Angeles'  traffic-filled freeways.
I've picked up a new tube(or 2) of pricey oil paint and, as I've mentioned before, it's always nice to change things up with a new color on the palette.  Two of these are sold but the others are presently available here.
With the recent inspiration from the J. Paul Getty and my near-death-drowning in the surf at Huntington beach stay tuned for some fall colors.