Sunday, March 25, 2012

Gotye - Somebody That I Used To Know (feat. Kimbra) - official video



Ah...here is a great video from a guy I think is so mega-talented.  Goyte, ("Gaultier") and Kimbra, "Somebody I used to know."  Not only does he have a great voice (yes, he does sound almost exactly like Sting) but he is quite intense and enthralling.  And cute, haha.

I am working and working today, doing a paper, doing a powerpoint project, painting, and trying to manage everything else in the in-between, which also means I have to squeeze in two hours of French and take the dog out.  So much for Sunday being a day of rest!

I guess it's time for more coffee.  I'll post some new work tomorrow, but in the meantime, you can look at Gotye's art as well.  Ciao!

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Spring...


"Pink42" self-portrait, 2012, oil on wooden panel, 20" x 20" x 2"



 
I have started a series of self-portraits, I guess its about time.  The last time I did one in oil was when I was 25, so that should be an interesting comparison, hehe....I don't know what prompted it, just that I am tired lately and my mind froze up at the idea of of embarking on another painting in my series, so that means its ended.  Time to move on, and until I find my feet as to what direction I am looking to go in, I will continue with the self-portraits.  Keep on going...

I should be so happy Spring is here, and I am, guardedly.  The last few months have cut me off at the knees, and I am still trying to recuperate.  I love hearing the mourning doves cooing beneath my window in the coolness of the mornings when I wake up, and that energizes me greatly, but I still have a lingering feeling of dread that hangs in the back of my mind that does not want to decamp or relent...its the first feeling that seeps into me lately when I wake up, and I have to literally fight it away with reading some positive quotes or devotions, etc.  or that feeling stays with me like a queasiness throughout the day.   I guess I am doing all I can to get rid of it, and maybe seeing all of the cherry blossoms and daffodils in their beautiful Spring finery will chase it away finally.

The rolling hills and fields of Southeast Pennsylvania are starting to explode with growth; I can see the tender green fronds of new grass and vegetation pushing their way up through the dead, gray undergrowth.  Here and there I pull away a brittle branch or twig, and can see the luscious colors of these new generations popping through the dark soil.  It's always amazing to behold, no matter how many Spring seasons I get to enjoy.  They get better with each year...

So, some new landscapes to post soon--I am constantly battling it out with my camera, and even trying to get this painting photoed was an ordeal--the darks are underexposed, so I will try again tomorrow, and to get the landscapes up as well.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Out to the studio


"Foggy Spring farm field" by Hilary J. England, 8" x 10" oil on canvas

It's a lovely day, and I am out to the studio today.  A little cold, but I can't complain...the daffodils are all blooming, and besides, I am lucky my studio isn't burnt to the ground after last night's fiasco...

Around 11:45 pm last night, we were snoozily watching Yves Montand and Marilyn Monroe in "Let's Make Love" on TCM, just getting ready to go to bed, when I heard this loud bang that seemed to come from upstairs, or the front of the house.  It snapped me awake, and I thought, "what the heck is Anthony doing up in his room??"  A few seconds later, we heard an even louder boom, so loud, it sounded like a sonic shockwave from a jet, or a car crashing into the house.  It literally shook the house like an earthquake. 

We all jumped up and began looking around the house, when Anthony went to the side balcony and started yelling, "Fire!!  Fire in the front of the house!!"  I yelled, "Is it the house?"  He yelled back, "I can't tell, I can't see--only flames shoooting up!"  We all raced to the front of the house, and there in the street, in the front of the house, was an SUV, completely ablaze, flames shooting as high as the telephone pole. 

We were shocked, and felt horror thinking there was a person in there.  The heat was too hot to approach, and we were afraid of further explosions...then suddenly, from the side of our house, a man emerged, looking aghast.  He was the driver of the burning vehicle, and managed to get out of his vehicle unharmed.  He explained he hit a deer, and a few moments later, as he tried to limp his car off the road into the dirt parking lot across the street, the car suddenly exploded into flames. 

He was able to get out with his life and his laptop.  He had just bought the truck the week before, and it had only limited insurance on it...he had had bad luck with that, but good luck because he is alive and unhurt.  We all watched from the corner of the house as the fire company went to work putting out the inferno.  It was pretty impressive, that a car could burn that long, hot and fiercely.  After about ten minutes, they got it out, and then went about the business of hosing down all of the rooftops in the area, so no ancillary fires began and cleaning up the wreckage.

Since my studio had been literally in front of the inferno, we had to haul all of the paintings out through the side door while this was occuring, just as a safeguard in case the barn went up in flames.  It is over a 100 years old, and would've burned down very quickly, and I would have lost a bulk of my paintings, so we had to move quickly.  Now, this morning, they are all back in there, but I have the unpleasant task of rehanging them all...which I am not looking forward to.

So, with that being said, I will leave you with a pleasant little painting called "Foggy Spring farm field" done last Spring, so I can keep my thoughts and spirits focused on happy and warms days to come, and remember that things can certainly always be worse...and I'm thankful for just being inconvenienced and not plundered. Enjoy!

Old Stone cottage and wildflowers

 "Old stone cottage and wildflowers" by Hilary J. England, oil on canvas, 8" x 11" Lest you think I have moved to some r...