Happy thoughts!

"Dragonfly in the purple flowers" oil on canvas, 7" x 14"

It's been a busy few days, as the new year seems to start off quickly, like a shot that starts a race.  Nola was born yesterday and in the in-between of it I've tried to take a few moment's breather.  I did a little painting the day before, as I'm starting to put together thoughts for several paintings for my ongoing series.  I began to think about things -- imaginations, and thoughts and emotions that can transcribe into my composition. This process usually requires a "limbering up" -- I like to let my mind roam a little freer than usual, and do some brainstorming -- I also do whatever I feel like, in terms of paintings and drawings.  This gets the "juices" flowing -- like a warm-up before a workout. 

I started thinking of spring and summer -- and the beautiful wildflowers that line the banks of the river that's just behind my house.  I would sit out on the retention wall that sits about 12 feet above the banks, and just watch the glorious kingdom of flowers and insects -- the bees, the butterflies, the many species of dragonflies.  I would sit, sometimes for an hour or so, and just watch them.  This little universe fascinated me, and I look forward to it this year as well.

Here is a little oil painting I did of that reminiscence -- just because I was musing and enjoying the memories of it.  When I work, I like to pull on memories of many things, and this memory was a happy, calming one -- a memory of contentment and happiness in a seemingly simple view.

Enjoy! 

Indian summer at the dam

"Indian summer at the dam" by Hilary J. England, oil on canvas, 8" x 11"

It's been so warm and beautiful, the weather at this time of year is always a gift.  The late summer warmth mixed with the slight chill of the coming fall give a special feel to the days and nights, and the leaves are beginning to have their first tinge of yellow of some of their tips.  Fall foliage is certainly right around the corner.

I did this little oil painting study on a fine day, and its the type of painting I absolutely adore to do.  The process is so relaxing, and it always makes me so grateful just for the glorious weather and the beauty of the days and landscapes.

I hope you also enjoy these beautiful days! <3 

Study of red rocks and female nude

"Study of red rocks and female nude" by Hilary J. England
oil on canvas, 16" x 20"

Here I did a study of the beautiful red rocks and the female figure.  I wanted to keep the figure, again, as not the dominant element in the picture.  This female figure was very taught, and I wanted to paint this as the angle of the body was extremely challenging, from the head to her toes.

This was recreated from several reference photos and not onsite.  I could never have a person hold a pose like that, and the rock formations are not native to my area -- more southwest.

I enjoy studying light, and anything with a lot of lines and directionality always draws me in.  That must be the compulsive part of my personality -- I like lines and textures, particularly elements that convey hard edges.  I love playing with hard lines and soft edges.  It's just my thing I guess.

~Enjoy!

New works

Untitled/ in progress - oil on canvas, 36" x 38" b

After graduating with my Master's at the beginning of August, I decided to take a few weeks and just breathe.  It was really a long haul, so much more than I realized, and getting adjusted to life after school took a little time.  I had to be able to adjust to not having constant research deadlines hanging over my head, and planning everything in my life around that.  It was like a phantom pain for a few weeks -- I would wake up and for a moment feel a sting of panic -- did I miss my deadline? Then I would slowly relax and think, "Nope."  A sigh of relief!

I started working on this new painting.  It is as of yet untitled.  I am still working in the genre of Imaginative realism.  This painting is also a self-portrait of sorts.  It symbolizes my inner self, and the struggles I have dealt with in this life, with pain and tragedy, loss, regret, and the strength to overcome.

I was not in my studio these last few weeks at Wagon Works, because it was just so dang hot.  I can't do that kind of heat, where I'm sitting at the easel, and I feel like I'm in a sauna.  I love my studio there but there are few drawbacks, and one is that there are no proper heating or ventilation systems, as the building is being restored, so in the intense heat or cold, it's just not manageable.  So, I worked in my home studio, even though that's not much better, because my A/C, as expensive as it was, is a hunk of junk.  Infuriating to waste money like that -- but there it is.  I'll have to buy ANOTHER system next spring, again.

I'm looking forward to the cooler weather -- the fall, and pumpkins (NOT pumpkin "spice" haha- though I do enjoy pumpkin pie), crisp weather and colorful trees.  Wearing sweaters and boots, and smelling the morning air tinged with mystery and damp leaves.  My schedule is starting to calm down a bit, and for that, I'm thankful too.

Then, in November, comes Egypt.  I go to Egypt, not Egypt coming to me ;-) .  I'm looking forward to exploring Egypt and its wonders -- the Pyramids, Luxor, Valley of the Kings, Hurghada and the Red Sea...taking a felucca down the Nile.  All in time to mark the half-century I've wandered this earth -- sometimes with a purpose, sometimes like a leaf on the stream -- but, by God's grace -- still blessed to be around.

Cheers!

Portrait of Joey

"Portrait of Joey" by Hilary J. England, oil on canvas, 12" x 16" 2019

Portraits and life

I started working on portraits again.  I had taken a couple of months hiatus, after returning from Israel, as I had other projects that were really demanding, one being wrapping up my Master's degree, last week.

I love doing portraits, as it is always a challenge, but more, I feel like I get to know a person's spirit and soul while I am doing them.  This is especially true if a person has passed on -- and there is no physicality in this earthly plane anymore, to reference.  When a living portrait is created, I can reference the sitter, see their body language, the energy they give off, what their eyes tell me.  When I do a posthumous painting, I must pour over photos, listen to stories from their loved ones, and from those different elements, try to glean their essence -- what they were like while they were alive -- how can I capture their "likeness" in the portrait.

Defining a Portrait

A portrait is so much more than trying to copy a photograph.  You can copy a photograph down to it's last grainy pore, and not "capture" the person's true likeness.  Likeness comes when you can capture the persons' essence and spirit that emanates from their being-- in the present, or in the past, while they were alive.  When a person who loved them says to me -- "wow -- I can feel the happiness of their smile" -- or "you really captured their expression" -- then I know the artwork was a success-- it will "live" in the recipient's life, much more than just on their wall.

I have a Mom who tells me the portrait of her sons who both passed on gives her immense comfort, more so than any photo.  She "feels" them with her when she sits near their portrait in her living room.  This brings me joy to know it brings her comfort.  I feel my task was completed as an Artist when I hear her relay this to me.

And so, more will be on the way in the next few months now that my life is my own again! :-)

Textures and landscapes

"Study of nude and the old barn (textures)" by Hilary J. England
oil on canvas, 16" x 20", 2019

Beginnings...

I began this mid-month with an intensely renewed interest in the figure versus textures of the outdoors.  This strange obsession must coincide with the full moon! I would say it's PMS but I haven't had an overwhelming urge for chocolate, so I cannot attribute it to that haha

Working with the group of models, it's still been rainy and hard to coordinate, but that didn't slow me down too much.  I just decided to work par Coeur -- and go from there.  I had a vision in my mind of what I wanted the paintings to look like -- limited palette, reminiscent of Manet, with an emphasis on the textures of the environment rather than the figure itself.  Naked and unashamed, but rather, an object in the landscape rather than the actual focal point itself.

These things madden me.  Trying to photograph the finished work is enough to make one want to down a gallon of moonshine -- the shadows were so deep, and the reflections wash those tones away.  I tried my best and had to let it go.  The painting DID have the quality I set out to capture, even if the camera would not cooperate with me.  That age-old struggle will never end.

Conclusions:
I guess I can't be too dismayed.  I feel the painting is a success, even if the camera is telling me to go jump in a lake.  I will attempt to re-photo it in the next few days.  I'm just too tired and frustrated now.  The hits don't stop because you are creating -- on the contrary, they seem to ramp up while I concentrating on a task! I was being lazy and didn't set up the lighting etc.  -- it was a long day and I just didn't want to be bothered.  Tomorrow! Like Scarlett said, "after all, tomorrow is another day!" ;-)

-Enjoy

Easter Weekend - Easter Sunday - Jerusalem

"The Garden Tomb at Easter" by Hilary J. England
Acrylic on canvas panel, 12" x 16"

Easter Sunday 2019, in Jerusalem, dawned cold and tempestuous.  Early morning thunderstorms with heavy wind and hail pelted the windows, discouraging any kind of thoughts of a serene morning service at the Garden.  I decided that the Lord will forgive me for waiting until tonight's evening services rather than the morning Easter vigils.

I painted the Garden Tomb, and I'm glad I chose a quiet spot the other day, rather than wait.  The people who run the administration of the Tomb allowed me a little extra time on my own to work on my painting undisturbed, and that was very kind of them.  The sun would come in and go out just as quickly, as the weather in Jerusalem seems to be as volatile as the politics. 

I began a second painting but did not have time to finish it.  I got to the 3/4  stage and decided it would be best to just finish it up back at the apartment, as the sunlight was beginning to fade, and I did not want to be rude and stay even longer when the staff had been gracious and kind to accommodate me. I will post up that painting tonight or tomorrow -- soon :-)

So, this evening is Resurrection Sunday services at King of Kings, and I will head over there for that, and tomorrow, off to Nazareth, Capernaum, and the Sea of Galilee.  I decided to get out of Jerusalem for Holy Monday, as I need some additional quiet time out of the holiday "frenzy." For me, a nondenominational Christian, the official holiday is over -- I don't celebrate with the Orthodox, and I am "celebrated" out at this time.  I prefer to keep Easter and the resurrection in my heart every day, rather than save it all up for one day a year!

Now, my heaters are on in my room, reading my Bible, and relaxing for the next few hours before the evening services begin.

Easter Weekend - Jerusalem

"Birds in the Garden" by Hilary J. England, Acrylic on canvas panel, 12" x 16"

Good Friday was yesterday, and I spent the day wandering and relaxing.  I tried to avoid the crush of tourists and pilgrims in the Old City, as I have had my fill of crowds, and I do think the Lord would understand that.  I can have a contemplative Easter weekend in the Holy City without getting squished by a mob.

Today is Holy Saturday, and the city has been bathed in calm since the Shabbat siren sounded last night.  With my windows open, the breeze gently wafted in, and I could hear the reverent and joyous singing of the Jews in the temple across the street.  It was relaxing and made me feel cozy and comfortable, curled in my bed under my blankets -- I have been nursing an infection in my slightly impacted wisdom tooth for the last few days, and it really started to hurt yesterday -- into my jaw, all the way into my ear.  I got slightly disgruntled and alarmed but decided to just keep at the homeopathic remedies -- continued saltwater washes, extra vitamin c, extra rest in the next few days, and prayer and meditation.

I decided a painting in the Garden of Gethsemane was in order.  It was extra quiet and the sun kept flitting in and out of the clouds.  One minute bright, the next, gray and windy.  I looked at the ancient olive trees, curled and gnarled, and wondered at all they had seen in the thousand years or more of their existence.  Did they see Jesus weeping in the garden? He had much to weep for.  He wept for his life, for what was coming, for those he was leaving behind, and the state of chaos the world was and still is in.  The trees stayed stoically quiet.  Their twisted trunks and branches curled into the gray as if they would embrace the sky.  Jesus had sought shelter in their embrace -- he longed to be comforted, for answers, for release.  All the others slept, and he was alone with God, and the trees. 

I looked at the little birds quietly pecking away at the ground.  Jesus had said we were more important than the little sparrows -- but he didn't mean they weren't important too.  I looked at them, in their own little world, so beautiful in their simplicity.  They brought me great joy to see them.  I relate to sparrows.  I've not been much in this life in terms of the world, but that's okay.  I feel I've completed to this point, the tasks I was ordained to, in this life.  And, I will continue to do what is in the purpose of my life -- painting to uplift others, to help others heal, to have a moment of peace and beauty in their day-to-day lives.  I thank God for all the little moments, the precious moments of beauty, like here today in the Garden.

Day 4: Jerusalem

Despite being on my fourth day in Jerusalem, this was the first day I had officially planned any activities.  For the first three were travel, getting settled, and then Shabbat.  Today, I had plans to go to the Palm Sunday procession from the Church at Bethphage, the Mount of Olives, to the Church at St. Anne's, within the walls entering through the Lion's Gate.  I knew this was a four to five-hour procession, with thousands of people, and it was really something I was interested to do, despite not really being a big fan of crowds.  But, hey, you only live once!

I began plotting out this event because it would require me to take several buses to reach the Mount of Olives.  It was in the Arab/Muslim controlled part of Jerusalem, and that was also a bit thorny.  I decided to just go for it.  I tried to read up and research the "ritual" for the bus-- where to get tickets, etc.  Apparently, there is a lot in flux still in Jerusalem, and buying what's called a Rav Kav ticket is not quite as easy as I thought.  I decided not to overthink it and that I would just figure it out as I went along -- you know -- wing it!

So, I walked to my designated bus stop, boarded the bus, and the bus driver was very cool, he gave me further directions, and sold me a Rav Kav "anonymous" ticket (meaning, it's for monthly passes, etc., but you don't need ID) right on the spot.  I followed his directions, changing buses at the first designated spot, and then I reached the Damascus gate, where I was supposed to board the bus numbered 255 for the 17 stops out to the Mount of Olives.  When I got off at the gate, there was a crush of cars, buses, etc., but no bus stop.  Some older men pointed me towards the Muslim minaret, and said, "there is the bus depot to the Arab quarter."

I walked over and needed to purchase a different ticket because the Jerusalem bus system is different than the Arab bus system.  I boarded the bus and realized I was literally the only non-Muslim on the bus.  I brushed it off.

As the 50-minute bus ride wore on, I felt increasingly uncomfortable, looking at the landscape.  It was SO Muslim.  Yes, so Muslim.  I began to worry.  What if I get off at the wrong stop? I shuddered.  Thoughts of mayhem began to creep into my mind.  I felt a few butterflies of fear in my belly.  I stared straight ahead, as the Muslim man behind me stared hard at me, his expression was inscrutable.  I tried to think of nothing.  A moment later, an older, very well-dressed woman, NOT in Muslim hijab or garb of any sort, also sat staring at me.  She was also a Muslim, but different.  What did she want? She stood up and wobbled over to me, and asked, "Are you going to the procession?" I nodded.  She said, "Good me too." She looked at the Muslim man who was staring and said something sharp sounding to him in Arabic.  He looked away.  She turned to me and said, "We Christians have to stick together. We are the minority here."

A few minutes later she said, "This is our stop." I could see the church and the crowd, and I felt a tremendous sense of relief.  We unboarded and parted company, as she was going to the convent to visit her sister.

I walked into the complex, and it was awash with color and happy singing, and faces of all colors and ethnicities.  I felt a wave of happiness wash over me -- just look at all these different Christians, different sects, but here they were, happy and joyful for the day!  I walked around and saw a little restaurant area.  I ducked in to grab a cup of coffee because the restaurant was surprisingly empty.  As I did, I saw two Arabic women sitting in the corner, chatting.  When I approached, I heard them speaking English, very well.  I don't know what possessed me, but I walked straight up to them and said, "Hello! Where are you from?" The stopped and looked at me and smiled, and said, "Canada before, but now we live here, in Bethlehem. And you?" I said, "I'm from America--the Northeast, in Pennsylvania." They became enthusiastic - "We know Pennsylvania!" They grabbed another chair and said, "Please, join us!"

And so, that started my day with Gladys and Nargys, my two new Arabic Christians friends from Bethlehem.  We stayed together the entire day, walking the procession and chatting and laughing.  They told me about their families, their travels, their hobbies, and I did the same.  We showed photos of our children, grandchildren, family, pets.  They laughed and told me the cultural idiosyncrasies of Jerusalem and the surrounding areas.  They were solemn when they told me of the persecution they suffer for being Arab Christians.  They each spoke four languages, and I was amazed at them.

We walked along with the Arab Christian section.  They sang their songs in Arabic -- and it was melodic and relaxing.  They laughed at some of the others with their crazy antics, and I appreciated that too.

We finally made it to the Lion's Gate, with us making entry, and people throwing rice and flowers on us in joy from the balconies above.  It was close to mayhem with different groups all trying to "out sing" each other in different languages.  The procession made a turn into the courtyard of St. Anne's to regroup.  We decided we would not stay on for the additional hours of singing and festivities, as we had been traveling for four hours, and we were hungry and needed a restroom.

We went on into the Arab section behind the wall, stopping to haggle for this and that, and then Gladys and Nargys treated me to an authentic Arab dinner.  We ate a delicious dish called "knafa" -- which was goat cheese and candied nuts.  It was really amazing, and they gifted me with some to take home, as well as two loaves of sweet bread that Nargys insist I try.

Finally, Gladys said her husband was meeting her at the Damascus gate and kissed us both goodbye.  I traveled on with Nargys, as we rode the bus back -- I got off at Machane Yehuda, and she went on to City Center, to catch the bus to Tel Aviv for the evening.  We had exchanged information earlier, and they had very kindly offer me to come to Easter dinner at their mother's home in Bethlehem.  I told them I would consider it!

All in all, it was a wonderful time of exploration and meeting new friends in a new city.  That always makes for a fine day!

Day 3 Jerusalem

I am relaxing today, as it is Shabbat and everything is closed.  Literally.  Last night, the Shabbat siren went off, and everyone quietly went home -- about a half an hour later, I could see the groups of well-dressed people walking to shul, and I knew it was my cue to go down and join them, as per Lisa's invitation.  There were several Temples in the area, including one across the street, but Kol Rina required my walking through the back of the enclave -- through long, narrow alleys of the ancient homes.

As I walked, I felt a nervous trepidation.  The alleys were narrow and confusing, and it suddenly dawned on me that I might not be able to find my way back, especially in the dark.  This made me nervous, as did my solitude as I walked -- I was a stranger there, and that always causes me to feel vulnerable.  I forced the anxiety back and continued to walk along, trying to memorize little landmarks along the way -- the potted plant with the pink blossoms, the one doorway decorated in flowers and Israeli flags, turn left at the corridor with the aqua shutters....I hoped I would remember these things.  I stopped to check my phone to see if I could glom up some free wifi to pinpoint my location via Google, but no luck -- they were all locked.

I made it to Kol Rina, and the folks there were festive, but I was already a bit unsettled from my uneasy walk.  I asked for the Valliers, as per Lisa, who although had sent me, was unable to attend herself.  I stood in the doorway, undecided as to what to do, so I stepped in, hoping I would not make some sort of glaring and offensive cultural mistake, as this was all completely new to me.  As I stood there, a young woman, dressed up in fine clothes, looked at me and said "Shabbat Shalom" and "Are you new?"  I answered, "Yes, I was invited but Lisa Nachalot, and I'm supposed to meet Chaya Vallier here." She looked at me sympathetically and said, "Sorry, I don't know her." I nodded, and squirmed a little, looking back at the alley, and trying to decide whether I should just leave or stay, but I decided to go in and see what this was all about.

I walked through a little tunnel into an underground room.  The Temple was situated in a converted bomb shelter, which was lightly decorated with Israeli artifacts and other ornaments.  In the back, was a section for the women, and separated by a simply made room divider with lace curtains, the men were in the front.  I sat at the back of the row of folding chairs quietly, unsure of what to do.  The women filed in the room in silence, nodding at each other and at me, quietly saying, "Shabbat Shalom".  I sat there nodding back, returning the sentiment.

The shul began, and the men were chanting in Hebrew, some singing, all rocking back and forth with their prayer books.  Some of the women around me got up and did the same.  This ritual went on for a while, and I was completely lost as to what was going on, so I just sat back and watched.  To be honest, it was both fascinating and excruciating at the same time.

When it was all over, in about (guesstimating) 40 minutes, the people all quickly got up and filed out of the room.  One woman came to me in curiosity -- she didn't say her name, but she asked if I was going to dinner after? At this point, I was drained, and as kind as the invitation was, my only concern was finding my way back to my apartment in the dark.  Going even further away to some other place was a terrifying prospect.  I thanked her, but said I must be going, and literally bolted out the door.  I don't know if it was rude or peculiar, but my nerves were kind of frayed by that point.

I stepped out into the dimly lit courtyard, trying to remember which way I had even entered, let alone what corridors I had taken.  I stood for a moment, taking a deep breath, getting my bearings.  Squinting, I saw the one potted plant I made a mental note of: Potted plant, stay straight to the aqua door, turn left.  I walked that way through the dark, till I reached the point of the supposed left turn.  There were four directions to go -- they all looked the same -- dark and narrow.  A feeling of fear and dread crept up. "Oh Lord, please just let me get back without an issue." I made the left and walked determinedly for what seemed like an eternity in the narrow corridors.  Suddenly, I saw the door with the flags and flowers.  A feeling of relief flooded me -- I was going in the right direction.  I picked up my pace, and after a while, I saw the open courtyard of the block of my apartment! Hooray, relief flooded me and I relaxed my walk.  I had made it back and wouldn't be forced to sleep in some alley with the cats that night!

So, this morning, I slept quite late, and then woke to have a leisurely breakfast, and read some Robert Frost on the balcony, enjoying the quiet day and beautiful blue skies.  I did some work for a little bit, then caught up on other things such as correspondence and some sketching.  I have a full schedule these next coming days, so I decided to do what the Israelis do on Saturday -- just rest! This is something very new to me. Maybe I can learn how to do this back in the States! Lisa invited me to the park later, where she will be with her little nieces and nephews, and that will be nice and leisurely as well.

Day 2 - Jerusalem

I didn't write yesterday because I was so exhausted from the trip, I felt tired into my bones.  I hadn't slept in 48 hours, and not being 20 anymore, I just don't have that kind of stamina. I was up pretty much the night before, knowing I had to sleep, but fighting that old insomnia monster -- the more I know I have to sleep, the worse I can't sleep.  Then, the morning arrived and it was three hours to the airport, 2 hours waiting around, 9 hours crammed on a plane, 4 hours dozing in Kiev, another 3 hours on another plane, and then another 2 hours getting out of the airport and to the destination -- it's just alot.

The hotel was crappy, but the bed was comfortable, and it had hot water, a lock, a safe, and wifi.  I was good to go.  I knocked myself out with a Benadryl to make sure I didn't go 72 hours without sleep, because once I get on that insomniac crazy train, it can roll on for more than a week.  So, I was not letting that happen -- I woke up feeling great after a 10-hour snooze and headed out early to my actually sublet in the Nachlot section of Jerusalem -- trendy, and right by the main Mahane marketplace.

My taxi driver was slightly shady, but I was ok with that -- he didn't mug me or anything, just overcharged me 10 shekels.  I gave him a 10 shekel tip for good measure, and he seemed very happy with that.  He even carried my bags to the doorstep.

So, it was an absolutely gorgeous morning, in a beautiful neighborhood, and there I sat, with all the instructions from the apartment owner, but one -- combination for the front door lock wasn't working.  And, I had no phone service (I cruise wifi when I'm overseas).  I sat there feeling mildly panicked, but not quite sure of what my next course of action should be.  There was a crush of people on the main avenue above, and lugging a giant suitcase and a bag of computer equipment was unfathomable. So, I sat on the steps for a moment pondering my next move, and this woman, maybe slightly older than me, came walking by with her shopping wagon and just stood, watching me.  She said, "Are you subletting?"

I nodded.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I seem to be locked out," I said with a sigh.  "This combination seems to be incorrect."

She put her wagon down and began chatting away, trying to help me with the lock.  "No, it's definitely not working." She looked at me quizzically and asked me where I was from.  "America, the USA -- Northeast.  Pennsylvania now, New York-born." She smiled and nodded at me.  "Wonderful, you're going to love it here -- how long are you staying?" I smiled, and said, "A bit." She nodded enthusiastically and said, "My name is Lisa! I'll be your first friend here! I love your outfit by the way..." I looked down at myself, with my long flowing flowered shirt, leggings and sandals, and said, "Really? Thanks!" She said, "Very artsy.  It's something I'd wear.  What do you do?" I laughed and said, "I'm an artist." She said loudly, "Aha! I knew it!" I laughed, thinking, "I guess I do look insane!" She asked me, "Are you Jewish?" I said, "No, not really.  Like 17% on my Mom's side." Her eyebrows shot up.  "On your Mother's side? Then you're a Jew." I nodded.  Okay.  That sounds good.  She looked at my luggage, and at all my stuff, questioningly.

"Do you have a phone?" I sighed and shook my head "no." She thought for a moment and said, "I don't have mine either." At that point, an older man was walking by and she flagged him down.  "Moshe, let me have your phone.  This girl is locked out of her apartment." We began to call my host and her brother, and soon, we had a little crowd of more neighbors all trying to help.

Within a few minutes, a girl named Miriam showed up.  Miriam stated she had an updated combo for the door, and once in, I could reset it. Problem solved, and everyone was very happy and chattering and inviting me to different meals.  I was a bit overwhelmed, but Lisa became the coordinator, and we exchanged phone numbers with the promise of meeting again tomorrow in the park for the afternoon. I was quite overwhelmed with all of the hospitality I received. The folks in the neighborhood were very warm and welcoming!

 I finally got into my adorable little apartment and was greeted by Sensei the cat.  He purred loudly and gave me a lick on my face to boot.  I was able to unpack, and now, thanks to my new friend Lisa, I have three invitations: one to lunch with a family on the corner, one to the Shul tonight for Shabbat service, and dinner following the service.  Plus, two seders -- one for tomorrow night, and one for Passover.  I am officially being Jewish here in Jerusalem! Shabbat Shalom!

So, in preparation for all of the festivities, and the coming Shabbat, I went out to the shook, Machane Yehuda, and was bowled over by all of the stuff.  Everything you can think of -- heaping mounds of food, spices, meats, sweets, pastries, loaves of bread, produce -- and all sorts of other things for sale from trinkets to housewares to accessories, you name it, it's there.  I walked through quicker than I would have usually, aware I had to be sure I kept my pace up since things would close down early, and I would have no supplies for the weekend.  Lisa had told me not to worry, since an alarm sounds throughout the city, giving people warning that Shabbat will start in 40 minutes.  "It's not an air raid or anything," Lisa said with a laugh.  "Don't get scared -- it's just warning everyone the stores and everything are closing up."

Lisa also came by during her travels and gifted me with some very nice Shabbat candles.  "Light them tonight for Shabbat -- is this too much instructions for you?" I started laughing and just said "thank you no, it's all very fascinating. By all means, I would love to hear more!"

So, tonight, I will be attending Shul at a place called Kol Rina.  I've never done this and I am looking forward to attending a real service with the Jewish families and having dinner with them after.  It will be a real experience for my first official night in Jerusalem!

Enchanted Forest in PA

"Enchanted forest in PA" by Hilary J. England
oil on canvas, 12" x 16"

It has been difficult for me to get out regularly this year and paint, and that hurts me deeply.  February was an incredibly difficult month, with several very bad, seemingly back-to-back events that happened to people I love, and I was literally rolled as if by a tsunami.  I am glad February is gone.

But, on the last day of February, I was able to put the evil month behind me with a soothing painting of the local forest.  Sitting in the gentle quiet of the woods, on a soft, rotting stump, watching the light filter through the trees.  It healed my soul and made me able to put my armor back on and get back into the swing of things!

So, I think that is what much of art is: a way to voice the voiceless feelings in our soul.  The things that wound, and the things that heal.  To mourn, and to be grateful.  To rage at our powerlessness, but to regain and reclaim a little bit of our control and translate it into something beautiful and comforting.

I look forward to a good year from this point forward :-)

~Enjoy <3

Blueberries

"Blueberries" by Hilary J. England, oil on canvas, 3" x 3" x 2", 2016

I decided to go out and do some plein air painting since today happens to be Election Day, and to be honest, I just don't want to think any more about this election -- whatever happens after I vote is out of my hands, so why get all worked up about it? It is beyond my control. 

So, I went to go drive to a nice spot and just do some painting in this gorgeous weather and lo and behold, I realized all of my gear is in my Subaru, which also happens to be out by my Dad, getting the brakes done.  So, rather than getting irritated, I decided to make lemonade from the lemons situation, and add to my still life collection of individual fruit paintings.

I found what's left of some decent blueberries on the bush (they were beginning to shrivel, but some were still nice) and decided that would be my next fruit.  I was able to get this one done pretty quickly, about an hour or so, and I still feel better than I would have if I had hung around all day like a wraith watching the Election debacle unfold on one of the those terrible news outlets.  So, it was a win-win all around for me.

~Enjoy!

Strawberry

"Strawberry" by Hilary J. England, oil on canvas, 2" x 2" x 1.75", 2016

I have been lazy these last few days, and I'm not sure why.  My eyes and back have been bothering me, so that could be part of it. Aging is not for the weak or faint of heart, for sure! I decided to just add on to my still life series of single fruits suspended in black space.  It seemed a good place to start and simple enough so that not to tax my aching back and blurred eyes too much. Plus, this was a nice model -- tender and juicy after the session hahaha.

~Enjoy!!

The Jailbirds

"The Jailbirds" by Hilary J. England
oil on canvas, 8" x 16", 2016

Continued my path around town today, and found this interesting little scene.  It was really very difficult to paint on the spot.  The light was tremendously bright today which made seeing extremely hard from the full and intense direct sunlight.  Hat didn't help, and sunglasses would have just made things incredibly funky.  I guess I should have embarked earlier, or later, rather than at noontime.

I really enjoyed the flowers bulging against the rusty old chain link fence.  I felt kind of like I was looking at beautiful creatures in a cage, like they had gone to prison, and were straining to be let go and released.

I always enjoy finding little scenes of quiet drama.  They seem to be nothing on the surface, but just below, there is always a mighty story!

~Enjoy!

Recovery

"Ominous" by Hilary J. England, 11" x 14" oil on canvas, 2016

It's been a long and horrible month.  I'm going to get very personal here since this is a very personal painting.  I suppose I could just let you all "wonder" at the story behind it, or where it originated from.  Did I go scope out some strange little child alone and naked on a lakeshore, and start painting her?. LOL, no.  This painting is just my personal "story" of the situation I am dealing with. My Dad nearly died after a bout of pneumonia this month, and the toll of that episode wiped me out more than I realized or anticipated.  I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't relax or concentrate, and the days just slipped by with me not realizing anything at all, just feeling like crap, and there being zero I could do to correct it, or move through it. Dad's still fighting to recover, and for that I am grateful, but the anguish of watching his suffering had really left me in a deep depression.

I painted this little painting today, to try and move through this funk I'm in.  I realized that Dad's illness stripped away everything in my life, to when I was a little child, and I was terrified of the unknown. I remember standing on the age of a lake, looking at the water, feeling anxious and afraid, not knowing what was in there and if it would swallow me up.

So, here was my psychological therapy for the day.  I don't usually do paintings "from my head", but this one was different, because I really needed to try and work out all of the struggles I was dealing with, and this helped me.  Didn't "fix" everything, but it helped.

~Enjoy.

Strange twisted tree by the river

"Strange twisted tree by the river" by Hilary J. England
8" x 10" oil on canvas, 2014

I have been at work, working on some new paintings for the Dacia show in February, 2015, but I still always have time to paint something very beautiful in nature.  This strange, twisted tree, by the river in Weissport, fascinated me almost immediately, and I could not resist but to do a fast study of it, even while the wind was forcefully encouraging me to go home, haha.

So, after one belly flop into the dirt after my easel went down for the count, and a complete scraping to the canvas, I still managed to capture the unique tree in all its splendor!  Creation and the beauty of it never ceases to amaze me, and wonder at it like a child....

Replays

"Calm seas before a shower" by Hilary J England
oil on canvas, 8" x 11" x 1, 2013

My mind keep returning to the beach...it's where I feel closest to God for whatever reason, but when my mind is under serious, ongoing stress, it seems to return there, to the peaceful cool of the salty air, the smooth resistance of the sand, the majesty of the enormous vistas, and the sound of the waves, either lapping or pounding the water's edge.  Today, the waves were gentle, the breezes, soft.

Mark is still in the hospital.  It doesn't appear that the chemo has had any effect on the tumors, which is disheartening.  They are trying to get him strong enough to come home, and then in another week, we will have to make a decision:  go forward with more treatment, or not.  This is an excruciating decision, and one that can never have a "right time."  The implications are obvious, and it seems surreal that from St. Patrick's Day to now, this situation has surfaced, mushroomed, and has sucked our entire lives into its vortex.  I don't know what to do or say to be of support or help, since it is Mark's life, it is ultimately his decision.  I support either decision, and will help him through it either way.

So, like water dripping from a faucet, I feel the tension in the air, the catch of breath before exhalation.  I am optimistic to get through these trials, as it is the only thought that moves me forward.  This too shall pass...happy days will come again, one day, soon. I feel that is certain, I hope on that, I count on that, I dream on that, I live on that.

New painting



"Too soon/Mort laisse un chagrin d'amour que personne ne peut guérir, l'amour laisse un souvenir personne ne peut voler"
by Hilary J. England, 2011
Oil on canvas, 24" x 26" x 2"

This was a hard painting to paint.  After the procession of deaths I have experienced over the last several years, I felt moved to chronicle the absolutely abyssmal pain that follows these experiences, and how we flounder and feebly attempt to process the enormity of the losses. 

For several months, I was languishing in a sort of limbo--my mind refused to move forward, but it also refused to look back.  It stubbornly resisted all thoughts of anything painful, as you would attempt to fight off a mugger.  I felt this apprehensive, breathless sort of waiting...as if something more was going to happen.  And, sometimes it did.

After several funerals this year, several last year, etc., and etc., I was a bit on edge, and just plain sick and tired of people I know and care about kicking the bucket...not very eloquent, but there it is. 

I am thankful at this year's end for all I have, and all that were given to me, for the people, places and gifts that make me appreciate life.  I mourn those who have departed this life before their time, or even, if it was their time, it's never good time for those who are left behind. 

In three days time, Christmas Eve,  Nicole will have left us a year ago.  Casey is gone a year as of December 15th, Dan died on President's day, Matt on Memorial day.  Several more have gone on since the beginning of this year, such as Lori at Thanksgiving time, even Larry who went at St. Patrick's day...we have all the holidays covered, not to be sick or sarcastic...and although I'm well aware that death is part of life, it seems once you open the floodgates, it's a never ending trickle. 

I remember 14 years ago when my Grandmother died, and it was the most enormous loss I had suffered to that point in my life.  Here I was a women in her mid-twenties, and I had been lucky enough to not have been touched by death in a major way until that point.  I knew in my heart of hearts Pandora's box had been opened with her death, and we had several more, back to back, all in a succession.  It seemed to grow quiet for several years, and then, again, all at once. 

So, this painting is my way of trying to work out the enormous love that is carried away with the departing souls, and the enormous hole that is left behind in the hearts of those who love them.

The Rollercoaster that is Life...

Back to the day in and day out...that's OK.  I don't mind it.  I do have some very big changes coming in the next few months, and I'm looking forward to shifting gear.  Change is hard, but I know that it is the only way to progress into new parts of your life, and continue growing, so I brace against the wind, and run headlong into it!  That's just my style.

I have some shows coming up in the next couple of months, the first in Chelsea in another week or so.  It is called "Idiosyncratic Expressions," and will be on West 25th Street, with the opening on December 1st.  I'll be really busy in the next upcoming weeks and months, and that's always good.

On a sad note, my friend Lori passed away this afternoon.  I was so saddened to hear it.  She had been only recently ill with cancer, lung cancer, and went downhill so quickly, it was shocking.  She was the sweetest person.  I know most people always say that after a person is gone, but Lori literally was.  She was a gentle, shy, funny, witty gal with a heart of gold.  We  bartended together "back in the day," and we remained in contact because we always passed in the same circles, and remained in touch.  I knew she was ill through a mutual friend of ours, and I talked to Lori and planned to go see her this week, not realizing how close to the end she really was.  She died this afternoon surrounded by family and friends.  I'm happy she passed in such a loving way...

She was such a fighter.  According to her oldest daughter, she was drinking coffee until a few hours before her death, and still conscious!  She was beautiful and spunky, with baby blue eyes and a shy but dazzling smile.  Now I don't get to say goodbye to her,  only to her family.  I can kick myself for not moving more quickly, for thinking I had more time.  I saw she was out to a luncheon with friends only ten days ago, so I couldn't fathom she was that close to death.  I am heartsick now.

R.I.P. Lori.  You will be missed.  You touched many lives with your kindness and compassion, and your strong but gentle will.  May flights of angels see you to your rest.