Crime Scene

I was on my way to meet a friend. It was morning and the shadows were long. The night had been cool, although bright sunshine promised a warmer day. Pono bounded ahead of me, excited about the cool air and the prospect of being outside. I was still a bit groggy from sleep as I trudged up the dusty hill. This wasn't the kind of meeting that had been arranged ahead of time, but this friend is the kind who stays in one place.  She's steadfast and dependable. It didn't even occur to me that she might not be there. As I approached her usual spot, I looked up. At first, it didn't register. I knew something was amiss, but I was still groggy enough to not realize what it was. Then, it hit me. She wasn't there. It didn't make any sense. She was always there! Confusion.

When I finally reached the crest of the hill and looked around, I saw it all. The evidence was all there in front of me. She had been cut - hacked apart, really. The marks in the sand clearly showed how she had been dragged from where she was standing. She was in pieces. Someone had burned her. I felt pain, sharp and deep. Tears didn't come at first. I merely stood there, shocked and frozen. How could someone be so cruel? Who would do such a thing? It was unthinkable, yet there it all was, in front of me. And I was too late to do anything to save her.

I then began to think about her and what she meant to me. Her beautiful, long limbs. Her strength. The way she flowered last spring. The way she looked when the morning light hit her. How I always felt comfort when I saw her. She asked nothing of me, or anyone. I am convinced she knew things I didn't. Now she is gone. Forever. She died, for one night of campfire pleasure.

Waning

A new, untitled monotype.  7 x 5 inches.

Yes, I know.  It's been a rather long silence from me. My computer crashed!!!  Even though I have an old computer I can use, it just isn't the same as my beloved laptop. I have been able to retrieve MOST of the essential data from the crashed computer, but it took days and more patience than I really posses. That is my version of "the dog ate my homework."  Excuses are so lame.

Mostly, I am still a little wiped out from the studio tours. I have been printing new monotypes and even a new linocut. I have been running around, delivering art to people who bought things over the art tours weekend. I have been bundling up in warm clothes, as the desert suddenly turned cold, dark, and gloomy.  (seemingly overnight.) I have been writing down recipes that I will never make. (a new hobby.) I have been running and walking with the fuzzy dog. I am reading a book called Cutting from Stone, that was lent to me by a friend. And, ultimately, I am waiting impatiently for my husband to come home. Without the business of preparing for the Art Tours, I have suddenly found myself thinking about how much I miss him, and perhaps that has added to my downward spiral. I guess this is the "after tours crash."

Please don't worry about me. I will survive. I am not looking for sympathy or even good advice right now. I am just telling you what I have been up to. I think I am also trying to purge myself of this state I have found myself in by writing about it.

So this is a short post saying that I am sorry to not write anything more interesting.  AND, I am sorry that I haven't caught up with all of my fellow bloggers. I truly am! I am just not myself. A faint version of my usual self writes this, waiting for the tides to change. Just like the moon, I wax and wane.

Someone left a book at my house during the Art Tours. Is anyone missing a copy of Pressfield's book? If so, email me.

Happy Hummingbird

November first!  Wow. 

The Art Tours last weekend was a wonderful, busy few days.  A big, smoochy thank you to all who came out!  I cannot thank you enough for coming, for your comments, and of course, to those of you who found a piece to take home with you.  You ROCK! 

Came home from a run with Mr. Pono this morning to the sight of my Autumn sage literally covered with hummingbirds.  They were zooming all over the front courtyard.  Now how could I let that go without trying to capture a few moments for you?  I couldn't. 

Love.

I'm pretty sure this is a Black Chinned Hummingbird.

Happy November!

Cottontail painting

The house and studio are coming together for this weekend's Hwy 62 Art Tours.  I have been working hard, and I hope everyone enjoys all the new paintings on the walls.  The screaming gold frame crises has been solved with some black paint, rubbed onto the surface of the frames.  They are drying in the studio.  They may or may not be dry in time, but I have decided it isn't that important.  I do appreciate all of your helpful suggestions!

Feeling groggy after a restless night - there is just so much to do.  I will make this brief.  I apologize to my fellow bloggers.  I haven't been able to take the time to catch up with you.  I will stop and visit next week, when the big event is over. 

"Reclining."  Oil on board, 9 x 12 inches.  ©2011 Karine Swenson

I know many of you live far away, but for those who are nearby, I hope you will come and visit me this weekend.  9 to 5 pm on Saturday and Sunday.

Framing hell

This morning's sunrise.

 I am in the middle of framing hell: ordered frames for some new sunset paintings over the internet.  They arrived about 10 days ago.  They were ugly!  I sent them back and ordered some OTHER frames over the internet.  They FINALLY arrived this morning, and even though they are better than the first batch, I am still not happy with how they look.  (They are so shiny and gold they scream at me.)  So what do I do now, with the open studio event only four short days away? 
Panic?  Never a good option. 
Show the paintings in the screaming gold frames?  No. 
Send the SECOND BATCH of frames back and try again, paying extra money for fast shipping?  ????  AAAAaaaaaaaCK!  (okay, so I had to panic for just a minute there.  I'm better now.)  I still don't know what to do.  I keep thinking if I sit here long enough and stare into space, a wonderful, creative solution will come to me.  Interestingly enough, my muse seems to have left me, just when I needed her the most.  Don't worry, I will figure it out.  It is, after all, an imperfect world.

For those of you who came looking for me and my open studio this past weekend, I apologize for not being home.  I am showing next weekend.  It is confusing, because every year the east end is switched around.  Last year I did show on the first weekend, but this year, I am on the second weekend.  I will suggest to the Art Tours committee to keep it the same weekend, from now on.  It is too hard to remember otherwise.  I hope you won't give up on me, and still take time out of your busy lives to visit my studio next weekend, October 29th and 30th from 9 to 5 pm.  Or, you can stop by Friday, from noon to 5 pm for the sneak preview.

"Comparisons."  Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches.  ©Karine Swenson2011.

 

Our Feathered Friends

I still haven't totally figured out my new camera.  So I begin with an apology for my lack of really good photographs.  I never said I was a photographer.  Painter.  Painter.  Nevertheless, I still make my awkward attempts to capture things I see for you, my dear blog readers.  It was a bird-filled weekend for me.  Turkey Vultures soaring overhead.  I love to watch them - they almost never flap their wings.  It lifts the spirit, to see something soar like those big birds do.  A large family of quail, visiting the front yard.  They make the most appealing sounds as they forage.  I should record it next time.  Ravens, fluffing in a Joshua Tree.  I wanted a closer shot of them, but Pono thinks ravens need to be barked at, and they flew off.  (Can't blame them much for that.)

I also have to tell you that this morning, on our way to a favored running spot, Pono and I saw a coyote pooping.  Now, this is not such a momentous event, except that afterward, it scratched its hind paws in the dust just like Pono does!  Pono was transfixed until the coyote did the scratching-in-the-dust part (they do this to spread the scent), then, for some reason he went ballistic and barked furiously.  Which was unfortunate, because then the coyote ran away.  Now WHY didn't I have my camera???  No one knows, not even me.  John Nieto, an artist from Santa Fe, recently did a (very cool) painting of a coyote and titled it "God's Dog."  I would agree wholeheartedly with that title.  They are so much like dogs, those desert tricksters. 

Fresh off the easel:

"Dazzling Dusk."  Oil on Board, 11 x 14 inches.  ©Karine Swenson 2011

Edible Sky

Fresh off the easel:

"Edible Sky."  oil on board, 14 x 11 inches.  ©Karine Swenson 2011