Crow in the Mist New oil painting

“Crow in the mist” by Hilary J. England, 12” x 16” oil on canvas 

I was out walking along in the cold damp fog the day before the big snow, and I came upon this solitary crow sitting quietly on the railing — this bird looked so curious and peaceful, I was curious about it and watched it for a bit before it flew off.  I had been feeling very disengaged lately, with the solitude and isolation of the past 9 months starting to creep into my psyche.  I’m a solitary person by nature, but the rest of the world being solitary for so long is disconcerting after a while, even to solitary people like me.  

Then I saw this crow — large, calm and peaceful, just on the rails ahead of me.  I stopped a little distance from it, not wanting to disturb it.  The bird sat very quietly, almost contemplatively, in the heavy mist of the day.  It made me think of how so many other creatures endure the solitude of their own existences as well — and how outside of the kingdom of humans, that doesn’t seem to be an unusual thing.  I thought, if the crow can sit at peace by itself, for long stretches of time, so can I as a human.  That thought gave me a measure of peace as I walked along, after the bird had flown to it’s unknown destination.  

So, I went back to the quiet of my studio and thought of this bird, and remembered the feel of the fog, and the mist that gently would touch my skin, and just the quiet peace of that moment in the day, and created this painting.

~enjoy

“Crow in the mist” oil on canvas, 12” x 16” 

Sea Bird and Branches

"The sea bird and branches" by Hilary J. England
oil on canvas, 8" x 11"

The beginning of this year just seemed to fly by with a blur of trips and visits here and there -- Philadelphia, DC, New York ... this is both good and bad.  It's good because it's always nice to stay involved in things and visit with friends and family, but it's bad because it breaks my creative stride.  I need isolation and continuity when I am on a singularly creative path, and the last few weeks have been frustrating in that respect.

So, I decided to have some quiet time and revisit the happy places in my mind...the beach.  I thought back through the many beaches I have been to through the course of my life...I searched through old drawings, color studies, pictures, and notes.  I fixed upon this one thought -- I remembered a beautiful and fluffy looking egret sort of bird, sitting in the branches of some dead vegetation in the beautiful Caribbean sea when I was there years ago.  It was a quiet day, it wasn't hot, nor was it cold, but there was a very good breeze blowing, yet, this bird seemed very content and oblivious to all but the sun shining on its beak.  As you can dig by now -- I admire birds.  This one was no exception!

That's when I decided to tap into that nostalgic memory and paint this little painting.  It's funny how our experiences never leave us -- ever.  They can get filed away in the recesses of our mind, but one day, whether expressly called upon, or springing up unbidden -- they come back to color our lives.

~Enjoy!

P.S. -- the original oil is not for sale.  I decided last year that I will only be selling select oil paintings and keeping the originals for the time being.  But -- you can purchase a gorgeous museum-quality print through my website -- you get to choose the size, paper, framing, etc. and even see it on your own wall prior to purchase through my augmented reality function that allows you to see the finished product in your intended space -- so you know it's perfect!

Just pop on by:  www.hilaryjengland.com

New Directions

“Shadows and hope” Oil on canvas, by Hilary J. England, 2019, 36” x 48”

Falling into things

Sometimes, we just "fall" into things, like happy accidents.  Sometimes, we fall into things and it's not quite a happy situation, but something good can come from it.  Either of these circumstances can be a blessing, even if one is in disguise.

This is what occurred when I painted "Ghosts and recollections."  I was geared up to have the piece, created solely for a show with a theme of artwork that tells a story -- anything imaginative -- and realistic, viola, imaginative realism.

This was a genre I had long avoided.  I like artwork based in reality -- something that the viewer could relate to, and build a bridge of connection with.  Imaginative realism conjured ideas of campy unicorns and black velvet space scenes (cue the shuddering) -- nope.  Not for me.  So, when I had a nagging voice in the back of my psyche -- call it the Muse -- who urged me to do it, to stretch myself, to put my biases aside and step into the idea.  I decided I could do this, and create a series of three interconnected, inter-related works, each a standalone work, with its own story to tell, a sort of beginning, middle, and end work.  

It took a few weeks of mulling it, sketching things, writing out ideas, snipping little "samples of colors" and references shapes and figures, putting them all together into little thumbnails.  I finally created an image in my mind of what I was looking to convey, and the work began in earnest.  But, there was a side-effect to it all: I had to pull upon memories that were very painful and long ago put away- carefully filed into cabinet number 2410 in the cobwebbed recesses of my mind's archives.  This was not pleasant.

But...

Even though it was not pleasant, it WAS inspiring.  I certainly won't say it was cathartic because it wasn't.  Sorry, not for me.  That old carp from the shrink's couch of talking or writing out your problems and blah blah blah never did a thing for me.  I prefer to leave things in the dust of the past and move on.  That's just my way -- you have your way, I have mine, we all move to the beat of different drums, so to speak.  Anyway, getting back to what it did -- it opened up a floodgate of creativity.  I was eagerly looking forward to creating a nontraditional triptych (three) and began the work.  

After completion of that initial work, I found that I and the artwork had been pre-emptively cut from the show.  I was, to put it mildly, infuriated.  No other word for it.

After a few days of getting calm and finding my center again, I decided that despite the exhibition show organizers apparently AWFUL taste in cutting my work ;-) , I would continue through with the original idea, and even if the works never saw a show, I would do it because the Muse in me demanded it.  Plain and simple.

A star is born!

So, here is the second piece of the three.  It's called "Shadows and hope."  The piece continues along the vein of my own life experiences, of loss, of pain, loneliness, confusion, regrets.  But, always, always, always, there is hope...no matter what.  It's there, small, delicate, and yet, so powerful.  It's waiting always, to fill you back up and give you strength.  

I won't go into the particular elements of the painting (I do that in my personal journals -- y'all will just have to wait 100 years until after I'm dead and some blue-haired professor is adding their own embellishments and slants in some class somewhere).  I allow the viewers to experience the painting from their own perspective, to identify with elements in the painting within their own experiences and heart.  

Or, maybe they just like it for unknown reasons. It just speaks to them.  It just "clicks" -- like a cute person in the coffee shop.  

No matter why you may like it, or adore it, or hate it, it will be personal to you, as the story behind it is personal to me.  Don't expect a long-winded dissertation of verbal silliness -- I don't do artwork statement pieces like that.  

And in the end:

I decided I will continue on with additional pieces outside the original three.  How many, I don't know.  Is this the official announcement of a move into a different direction -- I don't know that either.  I've never been very fond of making announcements etc.  I don't like hard and fast rules to stick to when it comes to the direction of my work.  Let's just say I am going to begin a series of these more imaginative realist paintings, and see where they take me.  I have an idea for the series, and yes, maybe they will help me put my own ghosts and recollections in order too.  I guess you never really know!

I will blog a post for each of the works, and the overarching theme, when the three are fully created, and for other plans regarding the series too.

Day 20 Tel Aviv, and Day 21 - Home

Royal Beach, Tel Aviv

Enjoying the beautiful day on the beach!

Late night travelers in Ben Gurion

The time has certainly flown by!  Here are the last entries for my 3 week trip to Israel.

Day 20: Tel Aviv

Day 20 was an anticipatory day -- I was leaving at 530 am the next morning, which put me into a bit of a quandary: do I stay in Jerusalem and leave in the middle of the night -- hoping the shuttle or cab arrives when it's supposed to, or do I get closer to the airport and see some new sights? I opted for the second option -- go to Tel Aviv for the day, and be closer to the airport.

I had packed up on the Shabbat, taking advantage of the downtime and doing all of my laundries and getting everything together, so that on Monday morning, I had time for a little breakfast and to say goodbye to Shterny and Sensei.  Around 10 am, I departed Jerusalem, taking the train to Ben Gurion, where I had hoped to stow my luggage.  

Apparently, everyone who worked in the airport was completely unaware of this option being advertised and I was unable to be pointed in a direction to the lockers.  After an hour of searching around, and seeing my day tick on to beyond 1 pm, I grew frustrated and decided to just take my luggage with me to the hostel accommodations I had rented for the day.  

I had to take a rather high priced cab to the hostel because also at Ben Gurion, the sherut that was advertised to run 24 hrs a day to Tel Aviv had now also mysteriously disappeared.  I was a bit peeved but decided I would not think too much on it and just enjoy some time on the beach.  

The cab driver also had problems finding the hostel, but I told him the fare wasn't going to go up for his searching, and that ended that scheme.  

I arrived at the hostel at 3 pm, later than I had hoped, but the place was small and clean, and I was able to stow my luggage, get changed into my bathing suit and beach clothes, and head to the water, which was literally across the street.

I spent the rest of the day, from 3 to 6 pm, just lounging and swimming in the very calm Mediterranean.  It was a beautiful beach day with gorgeous weather, and I was happy to be able to decompress a bit before having to head back to Ben Gurion at 1230 am.  

At a little after 6 pm, I meandered the area a bit, and found a very nice outdoor restaurant, and had a yummy meal of beef medallions and salad for dinner.  I knew I had to eat carefully because the coming hours would be stressful with all the travel--eat too little, and you will be hungry and bloated, eat too much, and you will be uncomfortable and bloated.  Haha, it's a very careful balancing act!

When I arrived back at the hostel at around 730 pm, I showered up and relaxed in my bed for about 2 hours.  After, I wandered out onto the veranda and began chatting with the five women who were out there, from all different places in the world.  We talked and laughed on a number of subjects, until about 1130 pm, when I realized that I had not received the confirmation call from my driver that he would be arriving within the next hour.  

I called the service and no one had any record of the scheduled taxi ride.  I was shocked.  They had no availability for another cab, without an Israeli phone number to confirm it.  The hostel had no real "phone" number, except the mobile number of the front desk person, who was now also missing -- of enjoying the nightlife on the beach.  I had to get a cab quickly, but the streets were now quiet with none zipping by to hail, and I had no Israeli phone number to secure one online or via phone.  I felt my stomach start churning.  It was creeping close to midnight.

One of the gals in the hostel luckily had an Israeli sim and number, and we were able to secure the cab that way.  I thanked her profusely, for saving my American skin and not leaving me stranded in Tel Aviv, and within 10 minutes, I was off to Ben Gurion.

Day 21: Home

I arrived back at Ben Gurion at 1230 am, after a pleasant ride with a very knowledgeable lady cabby, which also put me at ease.  I was glad I didn't stow my luggage, because it would've required me going out of the way back to Terminal 1 to retrieve it, making things more complicated.

In the airport, I grabbed a cup of coffee in a cafe, playing the waiting game with the other airport denizens.  We all know the game.  Biding our time to check in.  I like that period of anticipation -- I might be strange, but I do.  I get things done, and I always feel excited to be heading out or heading home.  

At around 2 am, I began the check-in, which went smoothly and without issue.  The security was tight, but I had no problems, and at around 430, I was in the terminal waiting to board.  I was exhausted by then, and just looking forward to getting on the plane so I could sleep without fear of missing boarding! 

We boarded promptly at 5 am for our 530 flight, and I was so happy to see my upgraded seat into business class so now I could stretch out an additional 2 inches, haha.  I put on my little neck pillow boomerang, popped in my earplugs and put my hoodie over my face and went off to sleep  immediately, looking forward to arriving in Kiev at 830 am -- and slightly concerned about the short layover there -- it was only an hour -- but, knowing that Kiev was a small airport, and I was on UIA through the whole flight, which would not require a terminal change, and I was now onboard the plane, meaning no delays -- I was safe and would not miss my connection flight back home.  I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

I woke up about an hour and a half later and was surprised at the great time we had made to Kiev -- wow.  One and a half hours instead of three!  I looked around and noticed something was wrong.  The doors of the plane were open.  Hasidic people were very agitated and yelling at the crew.  I became confused.  I scanned the area, and there was a flight attendant sitting quietly in the corner two seats away, looking sullen.  I asked her, "What's going on?" She just looked at me.  I stupidly asked her, "We're not in Kiev?" She shook her head no.  I became agitated and incredulous -- "We're still in Tel Aviv?!" I blurted out in shock.  She nodded her head and said, "Yes. We have a delay."  

We have a delay?  Huh??  My stomach dropped out.  I would miss my connecting flight home.  And, this time around, I didn't take flight insurance. The panic of sitting in Kiev waiting for an available flight in the coming DAYS fell on me like a dead weight.  I gulped.  "Why???? Why are we delayed?? Why?!" -- the words came out harsh and demanding.  

She looked guilty as if she had personally delayed the plane.  I felt immediately sorry for my reaction and composed myself.  "Please.  I am sorry, but I am very worried.  I have a connecting flight to JFK.  What will happen now? If I miss this flight, what will UIA do? How will they correct this situation? I can't be stranded." I felt exhausted and miserable, with the thought of being stranded in Kiev, waiting standby on some floor in the airport for a "next available flight".  I shuddered.  

Others who were pacing and complaining heard our exchange and came over to chime in too, desperate for reassurance they also would not be stranded in Kiev.  The flight attendant seemed overwhelmed for a moment, and then asked each of them -- "are you all catching the connection to JFK?"  They nodded and said yes.  She said, "No worries, over 100 passengers on this flight are connecting to that flight, and they should wait." That placated them, and they murmured amongst themselves.  I said, "Hey wait a second, you said 'should' wait.  What does that mean -- does that mean they may NOT wait?" She replied, "That's possible." My throat tightened again.  "That's possible??? When will we know?" The flight attendant shrugged.  "When we get there." 

I felt creeping rage and frustration.  "Listen, that's not acceptable.  I have my ride coming to pick me up, and he's driving *3* hours -- you need to let us know so that we can make arrangements" -- the crowd had come back and I had now become their spokesperson.  "Yes! Yes!" they began to say urgently.  "This is not right!" The flight attendant said, "No, please, they will wait in Kiev." That quieted us momentarily, and she slipped away, as we stood in the galley by the door, discussing all the ills of the situation.  

Apparently, luggage without an owner had made its way into the hull of the plane, and the entire plane had to be emptied, security checked, and reloaded.  We all fumed about this.  "How did this happen, with all of the security?"  We all talked and groused, as people do in these situations.  Then we agreed to pray about it in our seats, and back we went.

At 730 am, two hours later, the crew began to shout for everyone to buckle up, and very quickly, the loudspeaker crackled, and the doors were sealed, and within a few minutes, we took off hurriedly to Kiev.  

We made excellent time, but had to be fast-tracked through security, and lo and behold, our plane had not left without us.  We were only 1/2 hour late, due to the hour layover and the fast time the pilot made up for in the air.  We were all herded on board, and we took off a half an hour later, making our delay now only one hour.

It was a 10.5-hour flight, and we were all so happy to be onboard, at not waiting to be squeezed onto other flights back and the headache that would entail.  I was so thankful at that moment when our flight to JFK lifted off.  I had just dodged some major discomfort of that missed connection, and I was tired to my bones.  I knew the next 10 hours would be very uncomfortable -- long flights always are -- but I was so thankful for heading home, nothing would dampen my enthusiasm.

I arrived in JFK one hour later than originally scheduled, but I was full of gratitude to be home! I went through the security clearances, and lo and behold, my luggage also arrived, not lost in all the confusion.  And, my commute back home was without traffic and in excellent company, so it was a very positive end to my trip!!

Moral of the immediate story: Always be prepared for the unexpected when traveling.  Seriously.  Traveling will test every skill you have, but particularly, your patience!

Moral of the entire story: Take chances, laugh a lot, be grateful for all things even when you don't want to be, and trust God! I am very grateful that I was able to visit Israel -- God's special land -- and that I was blessed with a wonderful trip and memories of it!

Days 15 - 16 Jerusalem

Inside Christ's Garden Tomb

View from the Southern Rampart, Jerusalem Wall

View back to Jaffa Gate on the rampart corridor

Day 14 

I was sick.  No one wants to hear about bad shwarmas and food poisoning.  Nope.

Day 15 

I felt like I got somewhat better yesterday, so out I went, and although the stomach had calmed down, I still didn't feel like myself.  I meandered through the city, but it was so crowded, I thought I might go insane if I didn't find a quiet place to just be alone.

I decided to walk the ramparts of the city -- and it was a very beautiful and pleasant -- and SOLITARY -- walk.  I started from the Jaffa gate, and took it to the North, visiting the Arab quarters and the Damascus gate.  I got down off the wall there, and walked over to the Garden tomb again, and had an hour or so of quiet meditation in the Garden and in the tomb.  After, I left and wandered about in the Arab section for a little, buying some forbidden bread! It's still Passover week, so no bread in the Jewish areas -- but, the Arabs have zero inclination to stop selling it -- so I got myself a loaf for breakfast.

I headed back to the apartment, taking a pass through the shuk on the way, picking up some more rice and chicken to cook up for dinner, plus some fresh veggies, and just had a quiet night, because I still was not myself.

This morning, after a fitful night of a lingering belly ache and a relentless mosquito buzzing in my ear, I got up tired and crabby, but determined to do what I had planned to do today -- walk the ramparts to the South, plus explore down by the Kotel/Wailing wall, and go for a cup of coffee in Christchurch.

I headed out and the city was quieter today, with the pending close of the Passover holiday, and a full Shabbat coming a day early.  Everyone was busy at the shops buying for the weekend, so I was able to walk the ramparts to the South in peace.  This walk was a bit more precipitous than to the North, and with my fear of heights -- I had to push myself some of the way.  I was able to get some pretty views and a peaceful couple of hours up there before I descended back by the Jaffa gate, and went for a quiet cup of coffee in Christchurch. 

When I was leaving the bookstore by Christchurch, the cobblestones were slippery and I fell.  It was so sudden I didn't have time to be embarrassed -- my hand hit the cobbles with my phone face down.  I cringed, thinking, "that's that.  My phone is toast." But, to my surprise, no bones and no phone was broken.  Several people came to my aid, and kindly helped me, and I appreciated their concern.  There are still good people in this world, of every color and creed.

I took the slow path home and stopped to buy more milk, some fruit, and some fresh meat and veggies for the weekend.  Plus a few cookies-- the cookies in the shuk are amazing.  And, with everything closed, I felt a panic to make sure I had something sweet.  I'm not that disciplined even in the Holy Land! :-) 

Day 13 - Nazareth, Cana, Capernaum, Sea of Galilee

Mt. Tabor

Nazareth, campus of the Church of the Anunciation

Views from St. Peter's Primacy Church, Sea of Galilee

Today was a busy day.  We left at 5 am for the North -- to visit the Sea of Galilee and Golan Heights, and the biblical cities of Nazareth, Cana, Capernaum, Migdal (Magdala) and to see the river Jordan in the North.

We began our travels with a scenic route that brought us by the Valley of Megiddo (Armageddon) and Mt. Tabor, where Jesus was in conference with Elijah and Moses.  The Mountain was awash in rain and thunder, and I could feel, with a shiver up my spine, how it seemed the place such an occurrence would happen.  It was both beautiful, fascinating, and humbling, even from a distance.  It was also surreal to look at the Valley of Megiddo, now so picturesque and fertile after all the recent rains, and think upon it awash in blood for the final battle. Pretty mindblowing.

We continued to the city of Nazareth, now broken into two districts: Nazareth (lower) and Nazareth Ilit (upper).  The lower city is Muslim controlled, the city on the heights is Israeli.  We would need to visit the lower city to see the birthplace of Mary, and the home she lived in when she was visited by the angel Gabriel, about her task of bearing Jesus.  There were several beautiful churches marking these events: The Church of the Annunciation, the Basilica for Mary, and a Basilica for St. Joseph, which included the workshop of Joseph -- presumably where Jesus apprenticed and worked as a carpenter/craftsman, before beginning his Ministry.

From there, we drove through the scenic upper Nazareth, and on to Cana, where Jesus turned water into wine at the wedding.  This is now also a Muslim controlled town, with many mosques.  There was a Greek Orthodox church to mark the spot of the wedding, but we didn't stop to investigate it.

We drove on through the picturesque countryside, stopping here and then to get tidbits of local history and to just rest and absorb the beautiful rolling hills and mountains.  As we approached the Sea of Galilee we stopped for a coffee and snack break.  The Arabs were running the coffee shop, so pastries were available (no pastries in Jewish shops for obeyance of Passover) and we had a little time to just chat about the current history of Israel and the ongoing conflicts with the Muslims.

We continued on to the Sea of Galilee, and to the Church of the Primacy of St. Peter, at the base of the mountain where Jesus gave the Beatitudes (there was a chapel there built during the Byzantine era that the Crusaders took apart, and rebuilt at the top of the mountain -- better real estate!).  The little chapel at the edge of the "sea" was so charming-- and the Sea, well, it was absolutely breathtaking.  The water was in a constant color change from the fast-moving clouds -- one minute, steel grey, the next, bright aqua blue, moving into a navy blue when the sun crept behind the cover.  The flowers, the breeze, the clean, sparkling vista -- it was just sublime.

We stayed there for a while so I could record some impressions, notes, and color studies. Personally, I could just pitch a tent there and stay, but we had to move on to other places and the day was starting to wear into late afternoon.

We decided to explore the ruins Capernaum, which is now a beautiful site of Roman and Hebrew relics, with a Church and a Synagogue on site.  The ruins are very impressive, with maps of the whole area clearly delineated, and are extensive enough to get a good idea of what the city looked like in the time of Christ.

A little while later, we lunched at a restaurant right on the Sea, and no, I did not eat the St. Peter's fish, haha.  I decided on some lamb kebobs and different salads, and for dessert, dates and Turkish coffee.

After, I took a leisurely stroll around the area, and many families were happily eating and picnicking together, looking very contented.  It was a happy sight, for Easter Monday -- although these were all Jewish folk, they were enjoying their Passover time together as well.

We moved along the coast to a Kibbutz called Ein Gev and stopped in there momentarily to look around, and take some photos of their piers and boats, etc. as well as chat with the residents.

We toured through the Golan Heights, visiting the spot that Jesus cast out Legion, and the herd of swine ran down the slopeside into the waters and stopped there for a little bit for a leg stretch.

Our last official stop was to visit the Jordan River in the North, another popular spot for Christian baptism, although that was not our purpose for the visit.  This place was pretty but a bit touristy, with hundreds of people flocking to pay the $40 to buy a kitschy white robe with a screenprint of the Crusader cross or some other such thing on it, and get a dunk in the deep green of the river by either a Pastor of their choice, or the Pastor at the resort, who was there, in mechanical order, dunking one person after another.  The lady in charge was extra angry, thinking we were trying to jump the line or get baptized without paying, but we assured her we were just there to watch.  Daniel thought this was hilarious, and he asked me, "Would God mind?" I said, "With her around, everyone pays $40 to get baptized in anger!" We all had a good laugh over it.

We sat outside a while, and we discussed the other baptism site I had visited the other day, in the desert, and he was amazed the guide was venturous to bring us.  "You know, that is considered the authentic site, but there are still active land mines there." I nodded, recalling the stern warnings of "lest you go ka-boom", but I was glad he brought us anyway.

We ended our touring late, about 9 pm, was when we finally returned to Jerusalem.  I was pretty exhausted by that point, ate a hasty meal, and just fell into bed.  But, it was a lot of ground to cover, and I'm glad we, as we say in the States, "got r done!"

Days 5 & 6 in Jerusalem

I spent my fifth day in Jerusalem catching up with work and correspondence and just decompressing.  It was cold, windy, and rainy, and not a very nice day to be out and about.  I knew that the next morning I would have a full schedule in the Old City, so I decided a day of relaxation and working on other projects for the week would be the best option.

So, on my sixth day in Jerusalem, I retraced the holy spots we passed by, while in the massive crowd of the Palm Sunday procession.  I decided to start on the Mount of Olives, in the Church of the Ascension, where we were able to touch the spot of stone that is supposed to be the actual spot of ground Jesus ascended into Heaven from.  After, we walked on to the Pater Noster, the chapel compound area where Jesus gave the Our Father prayer to his disciples and followers.  The prayer is embedded in the walls, in mosaic form, in every language known to mankind.  It was a beautiful and restful place, maintained by an order of nuns.

From there, we walked down the mountain, to the Dominus Flavit, the "teardrop" shaped church where our Lord wept for Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  It was an interesting site, with gorgeous views of the city as well.  At the bottom of the mount, we entered the Garden of Gethsemane, where our Lord prayed, and sweat blood, on the eve of his arrest, and where he was actually arrested by the Romans.  A strange marker accentuates the spot, that is surrounded by some of the world's oldest olive trees.  The garden is gated off and peaceful, with beautiful flowers all around.  Adjacent to the Garden is the Church of Nations, an impressive structure with beautiful inlaid ceilings and a magnificent glass mural in its headliner.

 We continued down to the entrance of the city, but we veered off right before the entrance and visited two absolutely fascinating sites: The Church of the Tomb of the Virgin, and the Cave of Betrayal.  The Cave of Betrayal is supposed to be the area that Judas Iscariot met in secret with the Sanhedrin, and sold Jesus to the Pharisees for 30 pieces of silver.  It is small and dark and sad, a little chapel marks the spot.  Our guide said that this chapel always gave him "the creeps" because he can feel the sad and negative energy in there.  I have to admit, I kind of agree.

The Tomb of Mary was an absolute wonderment to me. As you descend below the ground, you are greeted with a surreal spectacle of lamps and incense burners, all in the Orthodox tradition.  The variety and amount of them are overwhelming, a literal riot of color -- I was absolutely delighted! I don't know what so stirred me with fascination in this place, but I literally could have spent my entire day in there, just sitting in that strange cavern.  I found a quiet, dark corner, deep in the back by a tiny alter, and just sat and watched the spectacle of people kissing the feet of the statue of the Virgin.  I felt like a ghost.  It was a delicious feeling in a way -- to be invisible and peaceful and to just feel a state of relaxation in the quiet of the tomb.  There were also Crusader Kings from various countries buried in different vaults, and the thought of being in the presence of these mighty men was also very awe inspiring. 

We left there and continued on to the entrance of the Old City, where went in again, through the Lion gate.  We began to walk the Stations of the Cross, or the Via Dolorosa.  We began at Pilate's compound, where Jesus was put for judgment in front of the crowds, after being scourged.  The Chapel of Agony marked that spot as well.  We continued on through the day, stopping at each particular Station, to discuss the events that happened there, including the different chapels that marked the way.  We doubled back to the beautiful Church of St. Anne's and visited the remains and ruins of the pools of Bethesda, where Jesus healed a crippled man.  It was now a deep labyrinth of exposed ancient caves and wells, with beautiful wildflowers springing up everywhere.  Gorgeous!

We ended our day in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where Jesus was supposedly buried.  This is open to debate because the Protestants also have a claim that the Garden Tomb is his burial place (I agree with this theory).  But, the church is magnificent and chaotic, with hundreds of people milling around, praying, touching the stone where Jesus was laid to be cleaned and prepared for burial, and having a view where the stone of the mountain split at the moment of Jesus' death.  All very fascinating.

All in all, it was a very successful day, with many of the Holy Sites in the Old City explored, and some new and interesting acquaintances struck up for the day!

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 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!

Day Two - Rome

Day Two - Rome

I started off the day rather miserably, with no sleep, which was a drag.  I had left the one outdoor balcony door of my room open for air the day before, and I was pretty much attacked by mosquitoes the night before, making for a sleepless frustration.  But, that would not dampen my enthusiasm, so rather than wrestle with sleep that wouldn't arrive, I showered and headed out extra early.  

First, a delicious cappuccino and an apricot roll and then I headed to Spanish stairs area.  Even early, it was mobbed, so I went by it and admired all the local architecture, and just roamed about the area, enjoying the atmosphere, sketching the local architecture, and soaking up the morning breezes.  I was able to hop a bus and see some really nice architecture in Jewish quarter, and around the City Hall areas as well.

I wandered the city until about 1 pm, then headed over to Colosseo stop on the Metro, as I had scheduled to join a 3 hour tour of the Colosseum and Palantine grounds.  I made a quick stop in a cafe for some iced tea and a light lunch of a small antipasto dish with some salami, olives, interesting cheeses and headed to the Colosseum.  It was now close to 2 pm, and it was a nearly a mob scene of vendors, and thousands of selfie taking tourists in every direction.  Not one to be left out, I decided to take my biannual selfie in front of the Coliseum too! 

The sun was blazing hot and I could see the discomfort on many faces -- and even though I had prepped for it, with sunblock, glasses, hat, and my shoulders covered, the light was nearly blinding, and so intense, it was making my sunglasses fog with moisture behind the lenses.  I dipped into one of the shady spots along the long walls of the grounds, and waited to meet up with my group.  The guide arrived promptly, and was a very thorough and entertaining older gentlemen, who spoke in great detail of the history of the Colisseum and the origins of Rome itself.  He navigated us through searches and metal dectectors almost as thorough as the airport to enter the Coliseum (and again at Palantine) and then we were able to enjoy the grounds.  There were many schools there  that day, and the kids, initially boisterous and happy, became quiet and drained after a while, all sitting flushed in the alcoves of shade the porticos of the ancient ruins offered. 

By 5 pm I was also ready to keel over, and joined the groups of quiet kids sitting about snoozing in the shade, or sipping at bottles of ice water sold for a Euro by the numerous vendors.  I was more than ready to start heading back to the Vaticano area, as much as I enjoyed the tour, just to escape the heat.  I headed into the Metro, and back toward Vaticano.  The Metro system is excellent here, one of the better ones I've ridden in a while, and is surprisingly clean, not overly crowded, and very affordable at 1.5 Euro for.a single ride, or 7 Euro for a an unlimited 24 hour pass. 

Dinner time was approaching and I hadn't made a decision so I stopped off at a local cafe and enjoyed an chicken "insalata" because after the brutal heat, the idea of putting anything warm inside my mouth was shudder inducing.  I had a nice homebrewed iced tea limon and I began to meander my way back to my pensione.  I was flushed, and decided to head in early to shower off the heat of the day.  After I did that, I had some plans to head back out and wander a bit -- which never happened, because the heat and sunburn and no sleep of the night before caught me, and I basically passed out cold haha waking up 7 hours later, which brings me to now :-) -- 4 a.m. In Roma.  A new day :-)

Female Nude Study

Study of female nude reclining, Conte on Gray Ingres paper, 12" x 16, 2016

The new year has started off quite robustly, as if shot out of a cannon!  The weather has been nice and mild (I don't want to jinx things here) so going to Bethlehem has not been odious, as the Blue Mountain is always that large, looming obstacle in the weather, and thankfully, we have seen no harsh conditions yet.  Yet.  Or maybe not this year.  It does happen once every few years: a mild, gentle winter.  We are definitely overdue!

I hadn't been to figure drawing in a while, just because I was busy, and time seems to slip away when you aren't paying that close of attention to it.  I had missed these drawing sessions, and hadn't realized how much, until I got there.  Now, the night before, I had precious little sleep (I have been wrestling with insomnia yet again), but I forced myself into that car with two large super-strong coffees and I was very happy that I did.  I like seeing familiar friendly faces and the camaraderie of the figure drawing group...it makes me feel very comfortable, like I am at home.  We all are so passionate about the same thing: the beauty of beauty.  Exploring the complexities of  anatomy and translating it into the second dimension. The rhythm and harmony of the human proportions. So that's a large part of things also.

I have a lot of different opportunities that have recently come at me, and it is a little overwhelming, since I was kind of on "coasting" mode.  I am trying to sort through them, in a studied, logical way, but I feel a slight feeling of uneasiness, and I get this sinking feeling sometimes that no matter how much thought you try to put into a decision, it's kind of going to go on it's own merry route, regardless of your attempt at planning.  Kind of like children!  So, I'm trying not to "overthink" things either.  Yes, as Anthony was saying to me, he has a feeling that 2016 is going to be a really good year filled with amazing opportunities and growth!  I agree. :-)

Day 6-7

It is sunny...I had my night shades on, but still the rhymthic swaying of the train was not enough to hold me asleep.  Once I peeled these off, it was like being unmasked for a surprise party! The sights of the Southern Indian countryside are just spectacular, to the point of my heart leaping with wonder.  This train ride, in itself, gave me hope for what beautiful landscapes I will find in Kumarokom.  

The wait to get on this train was an exercise in pain, no doubt.  Seven long, somewhat nailbiting hours waiting for it to arrive, as yes, it was very overdue because of monsoon flooding, among other things.  The station was glutted with people, sleeping on the floors, chairs, anywhere that their bodies could fit, in a sight so bizarre, I began to think I was actually hallucinating it.  I overheard snatches of broken English, about "trains being canceled" and my heart caught in my throat....Margao was not exactly the most stellar place to be caught off guard--kind of like getting stranded in Jersey City.  I just took a deep breath and said a quiet prayer.

As I was sitting there, trying to retain a calm facade in the face of mounting pressure, a disheveled man, obviously a drunkard or a bum, came up and began yelling in my face for money.  I waved him off and then calmly looked straight ahead, and ignored him, but he was very persistent, and began to get more agitated and louder.  The young Indian man sitting next to me promptly looked at me, and then at him, and began to yell at him in Hindi.  I heard the heated exchange, including the threat of "police," and the bum grudgingly walked away.  I sat there for a moment, and I looked at him, and he at me, and then he said, "I'm sorry for that.  Unfortunately, there are bad people no matter where you go in the world." We smiled, and began to converse.  He was a very nice person, waiting for his wife, he was an engineer, he had been to Europe but not yet to America, and we talked of the snowy winters in the Northeast, and of the droughts in California, and all things American, and I was so grateful for the nice conversation, it was most certainly a godsend.  

After about an hour, the train his wife was arriving in (it was 12 hours late) was finally pulling in to the station, and he continued to assist me, by bringing me to a women's only lounge (which I was not aware of), and arranging with a porter to assist me with my luggage when (and if) the train arrived.  Here we parted company, and I went to sit with the large group of Indian women in the ladies lounge...which was guarded by a sleepy looking porter, and a bored looking police officer.  It was open to the main platform so I could still see the departure board, and every hour that ticked by, I watched my train departure getting rolled back yet another hour, until midnight, when it disappeared off the board altogether!  Alarmed, I asked the young Hindi lady sitting next to me to watch my suitcase (yes, a foolish chance, but the suitcase is huge, and no one was going ANYWHERE at that point), and walked over to one of the porters to try to communicate with him.  After a completely broken conversation, I gathered the train was finally arriving for us at 1:20 pm, and once again, blessing for me, it would be on the track/platform I was sitting on, and I would not have to lug myself over to the more desolate part of the train station, that honestly, had me a little frightened.  I had even took my box cutter out and tucked it into my bra just in case.  But now, I could literally just board right from the ladies lounge.  I was elated.

Many of the ladies rushed the toilets in anticipation of the trains arrival, and actually so did I, since I literally had not used the bathroom in 7 hours due to the delays, and the stress of leaving my luggage unattended and it getting stolen, so I was in desperate need at that point, because even though I had not drank any water in all that time either, so this way I wouldn't need to go, after 7 hours, water or no, you gotta go.  I quickly went into the bathroom, paid my 2 rupees to use the hole in the floor (quite literally--aim and go ladies) and then ran out, found the porter, and scurried to the train that was now, FINALLY, pulling into the station.  I was exhausted but fervently relieved, as it least it was finally here, and I wouldn't be sleeping the night in the train station, etc.  

Plus, there was a very young American couple sleeping in the mouth of the door for the ladies lounge, neither of them being more than 21 or 22.....both very blonde and Midwestern, she with her natural bright blonde hair and fair skin (a BIG deal here), he with his sandy hair and blue eyes, sleeping on their backpacks, but attracting ALL the stares.  I know it's terrible, but what a relief to know I wasn't the only white person in the station, getting stared at like an animal in the zoo.  The little blonde girl (obviously feigning sleep on the floor because her boyfriend was out cold) noticed me looking down at her, and we locked eyes and she managed a weak smile...I could tell she looked confused and exhausted.  I smiled back, and with that little reassurance, she snuggled back a little closer to her snoring boyfriend, and put her hoodie over her entire head.  Good move.  I wondered why she hadn't done it before...after all, the mosquitos were on a rampage (Margao is an outdoor train station) but lucky I must taste bad.  Not a single bite.  Maybe the wasp's venom is still lingering in my scent hahaha.....

So, now I sit in my train cabin, looking out the window, immensely enjoying the sights, and have this moment of happiness.  I don't know what comes next in terms of things beyond my control, such as delays, and mishaps, and other unpleasant things that tend to get us feeling defeated, but the sights of the lush watery pthalo green fields, with the raging gray ocean in the background, the swaying palms, and the cows  and herons calmly grazing together, are enough to make me feel the pall that was cast over me this week start to lift...

Day 3

I am still undecided about how I feel about India.  After the long travel here, the delays, the conversion problems, the hellride through the desolate roads with the taxi driver and stranger, and then literally walking into my hotel room and immediately getting stung by a giant wasp, and having a hideous and continuing reaction to the venom, I was pretty sure I was not getting out of Goa alive, and if I actually did, and made it home to the USA, made a promise to myself to have my head examined quite thoroughly.  

After spending the entire day in bed yesterday nursing my ailing leg, and laying about in the spacious air conditioned room, listening to the soothing rain, watching HBO between dozing on and off, and taking a lukewarm shower that at least washed the travel away, I felt a little better.  I ordered room service, a very nice roasted lamb dish with new potatoes in a brown garlic sauce, that was very good.  And, a 7-Up with an old fashioned straw....made me think of home.

The food here is amazingly good!  For breakfast, I had a delicious omelette masala, which is a spicy omelette with hot peppers and other veggies in there, along with a light yet dense rice cake with a sublime cucumber sauce that accompanied it, and the waiter called "Cumar" insisted I try a nice little sort of porridge, delicate and milky, yet sweet, with slivered almonds and golden raisins, which was truly delicious.  You can't help but eat all of these amazing local and native dishes...it's so easy, as they are there, and so casual the way the food is given to you.  It's different from any other "foodie" state or country I've ever visited.  Say, for instance, Paris, the food is sublime, but the approach is aloof, and the Parisians offer no help there, haha....you are left on your own, overwhelmed with decisions, and for someone like me, I usually go with the safer choices...but not here in Goa.  For some reason, the atmosphere of this place is just conducive to partaking of all the native foods...or maybe it's just the bee sting that gave me brain damage!  No, I will give Goa high marks for delicious and interesting foods.

The people here are also very accommodating.  The men, who were severely demonized Stateside by well-meaning friends, have been very gentlemanly, and I appreciate that, since I was wary of them to the point of paranoia.  Now, don't think I will get too comfortable, but it's refreshing to know that for the most part, they have been very genteel and polite, and helpful to me when I have asked them to help me, directions, locations of certain stores and resources.  And, it's needed, because this place can be overwhelming...The chaos of it, extreme poverty and squalor, with pockets of civilization, on the outskirts of Goa, while Panjim City seems to be a wealthier area, with narrow streets jammed with taxis and rickshaws, and many different shops which would prove a real treat for those who love to shop, but I, either fortunately or unfortunately, am not one of those people, so just observing the place, the people, and the architecture was enough for me.  There seem to be many influences here, from the different groups of invaders that left their marks upon this place, leaving it fascinating in it's chaos and crumbling beauty.  

I came to observe and to digest this place, and I hope I am up to that task.  I finally have my mineral spirits, so I will sit on my lovely little balcony tonight, and paint the exotic flowers until the torrential rains return...

The barren field

"The barren field" by Hilary J. England
8" x 10" oil on canvas, 2013

Winter is upon us, suddenly it seems.  This painting is of a local barren field, with all of the colors of Autumn still around, but not now.  Now all is covered in the first layers of Winter, in the delicate icy snow of our first inclement weather.

I have been very busy working, and that's great, because it's what I love.  I hope you have a warm and wonderful Thanksgiving!

Enjoy~

More painting

"Stonhedge in late Summer" 12" x 16" oil on canvas by Hilary J. England

I have to say, I have been very very busy lately.  I have been planning for upcoming shows, and with school, running the B&B which has been booming, and working diligently on my paintings, I'm just a paintin' fool!!  I love the cooler weather (although we are technically still waiting on it), and I'm looking forward to Paris in November, and perhaps going on to Italy from there.

I'll leave you with this quick, impressionist study I did of a beautiful enclave in Stonehedge Gardens.  It was very shaded and cool and damp, and it just kind of struck my fancy.  It's titled "Stonehedge in late summer" and it is 12" x 16" oil on canvas.

Lots more to come!

Home again

The Barnyard (after Respin) by Hilary J. England
11" x 14" graphite on paper

I returned home from Huntington Beach, California, yesterday afternoon.  It was a really long trip, and the flights were relentlessly full, so flying coach was like being part of a human sandwich--not fun.  It was over a twelve hour trip with the layover in Atlanta, and by the time I got home from Laguardia to Pennsylvania, I was nearly unconscious.  Thankfully I wasn't driving!!

I thought Huntington, Newport and Long Beach were pretty, but places I would only like to visit, not leave my heart with.  We laughed about the "HouseHags of Orange County" living there, and again, although it's pretty, it's not much to my taste.  Too new--no old, mysterious Victorian homes, just a crunch of new dwellings.   My immediate impression was to be baffled as I was landing in John Wayne airport (yes, I snickered too) at the sheer abundance of homes in the suburban sprawl of the outer counties of Los Angeles...it was actually sickening. 

Do we NEED this much housing???  Why are we destroying the environment with more, unnecessary housing--why can't people stop being so damned selfish and buy an existing home?   There is a glut of existing homes, and instead buying one of these lovely "older" homes, these self-centered egotists go build in the middle of a beautiful, animal filled landscape, because they absolutely HAVE to have their own to their very own specifications LOOK at ME house.  Disgusting.   Deep down, I think there is a parallel to SoCA's obsession with supericial looks and youth involved in this thinking...

IMHO, there is nothing wrong with being successful and owning a lovely house--but there are many people that feel that this status makes them entitled, and they don't care who or what they hurt to have their egos stroked, and that's where overabundance stems from.  My feeling is that the powers that be need to stop the building in Southern California, and utilize the inventory of existing homes.

Northern California is much more understated, in a wonderful way.  The houses seem to "breathe" and
there seems to be a relaxation and calm that is absent in Southern Cali.  I love the cool gentleness of the more rugged landscape, and that "breeze" seems to flow into the population.  No heat and clutter...and yet, some swear by it!!  But, I guess to each his own, so to speak. 

The oil rigs off of Catalina were also a sad sight...the majestic Pacific views were basically overshadowed by these ominous looking monstrosities overlooking the beaches.  Terrible.

But, I was very glad to see my sis(ters), and be a guest in her lovely older little beach bungalow, and the tidal pools at Crystal Cove were enchanting, with the clusters of brightly colored anemones and little crabs...that literally made my vacation.  Plus, some local cuisine made for a fun time--some Chronic tacos, and a yummy In and Out Burger...we kept it simple.

Anyway, some new paintings will be coming forth, so I'll keep you posted!!