Halloween Thoughts! Fright Night 1 - 7/11

Ah, we are approaching Halloween, and love it or hate it, it's that time of year where the mind sort of drifts towards things of the occult, and the nature of that. Since I was a child, I was always fascinated with good and bad, Heaven and Hell, and the forces of nature that propigate that. I had a special fascination with vampires, and no, not the high maintenance, MTV and "Twilight" types, but the old school, dark, evil, truly primeval and hideous vampires, and vampire fokelore. But, then again, I was also obssessed with Greek mythology, LOL.

Stephen King's "Salem's Lot" both the book, which I read countless times before I was even 10 years old, and the movie, which had me transfixed with delicious horror when I was around 10, was the the quintessential prototype of what I thought vampirism was, and I had carried that idea with me until I hit around 19 years old, and I read the Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. I was immediately in love, a little guiltily, with how these vampires still had a hand in their humanity, yet retained that nauseaous death about them. I could handle that compromise, that balance. I wasn't truly the purist I thought myself to be!
Years later, and I still have a guilty softspot in my fascination with vampires, probably a remnant of youth, but when the annoyingly and cloyingly saccharine vampires of "Twilight" were introduced, it was, almost, all puns intended, the final nail in the coffin. They had made vampires into a franchise, with the "Twilight" series as the pinnacle of it, literally the Super Walmart of the vampire stereotypes. It was enough to make me barf! So, I let the fascination go to sleep, like so many other things you leave behind.

Ah, but then, the other day, I remembered my all-time favorite, sexiest on screen vampire, HANDS DOWN. I smiled, and took a trip down memory lane, with Jerry Dandridge bringing me back to greener pastures...I remember watching Chris Sarandon, and my heart literally melting in my chest, by how incredibly good looking, charismatic, and just damn HOT he was in "Fright Night." The movie had a really enjoyable story line, stuck to most of the vampire "rules" about sunlight, crosses/crucifixes, and the plain old downside of being evil, and has just the appropriate touch of 80s campiness to be what I consider the ideal vampire movie!
Plus, I think this scene in "Fright Night" is just so damned sexy, whew, it's like eating hotsauce straight from the bottle!  I love the play of virtue and giving into decadence, and how even Amy's hair reveals she is going wild, and "blossoming;" how she is making the wrong choice, but she runs and embraces it...there is so much that can be read into the scene, but, that's not the purpose of this post :-)   Start the scene at about 1:40 in, and just ENJOY ;-)

New Painting/First of Series!

"Alejandro/a swiftly tilting planet."  by Hilary J. England 18" x 24" oil on harwood panel

It's been a while since I have posted...that monster  "depression" had reared it's ugly head, and I found myself too listless and too resistant to blog.  I forced myself to continue painting, to continue to ponder, to force myself forward, and that was a titanic battle in itself. 

My sister in law Susan died last week of ovarian cancer...not my sister in law Nicole, who battles on in hospice against her brain cancer, but Mark's sister, who was just one week shy of her 47th birthday.  She fell ill last year over the holidays while visiting us.  One night, she didn't come down for supper, which was uncharacteristic of her, since she was a vibrant, jolly, good-natured woman, and enjoyed socializing over dinner.  Barb, my mother-in-law, questioned whether she may have a stomach flu, and since it was the season, we all agreed.  Mark and I then went off to Paris a few days later, and they went on their way back to Florida.

But, before Susan could make it home, she was beset by a pain so terrible, they had to stop in South Carolina and bring her to an Emergency Room.  Here, it was discovered she had Stage 4 ovarian cancer, and she began her short, but torturous battle.  She had massive surgery, many complications, and ultimately, by August of this year, the cancer had spread throughout her lungs, and she was deemed "terminal."  Mark flew out to Florida on September 23rd, as she was not expected to live for more than a few more days; she was on a ventilator against her wishes, and they were going to remove her from it.  They did, on September 25th, and she lived valiantly for a few hours, and then went on to eternity...

That very day, as we waited anxiously for news from Florida, during that timeless, breathless wait of three hours, my niece, Nicole, was born in Los Angeles.  Firstborn for my sister and her husband, they named her in tribute of my ailing sister in law Nicole, and in New York, from her sickbed, she wept tears of joy when they held the phone with the baby's newborn picture up to her face.  It was such an overwhelming day for me...

In the midst of this, we were suffering on a different front at home.  My daughter Noelle was dealing with some very severe bullying issues in school, and she was, as were we all, completely bowled over by the enormous tension of  these bullies relentlessly sending death threats on her telephone, Facebook page, etc., while we were going through these events of life and death.  It got so bad, and the school administration refused cooperation, that we had to withdraw her from school, and enroll her in a charter school.

This large tidal wave of events had knocked me down, rolled me, nearly drowned me...nearly, but not quite.  I leaned heavily on prayers and just the knowledge that this storm will pass, as all storms do.  I found myself washed up on shore...scraped and bruised, but not drowned.

This painting was done in the midst of all of this turmoil.  It's called, "Alejandro/on a swiftly tilting planet."  It is a summary of the pain and isolation Noelle felt, we all felt, during this time.  Noelle and her friend had found a dying mouse on the sidewalk, and in their youthful thinking, felt they would save it.  Apparently, it had been mauled by a local cat, and abandoned.  It lay, gasping and crushed, in the kitchen towel they wrapped it in.  After several hours, they had refused to give up, and so did the little mouse. 

But, it was apparent it was dying, and I caught them just at the moment of his death...They were confused, and angry at why they couldn't save him.  It was a moment of lost innocence, and they had looked at me with hurtful, blazing eyes, for an explanation, one I could not give them...I could only tell them, "this is life, fair and unfair, seemingly without rhyme or reason, but in the end, we will know all things, we will know why.  It may seem a long time to wait, but patience is a very necessary virtue, since if you have patience, you can endure to the end, without bitterness." 

I painted them against the backdrop of a tilted, broken garage door, which I felt added to the confusion and vertigo they were feeling about being confronted with death, the only amount their young minds could grasp at this point.

So, this is the first in my series, surrounding the passage of innocent youth.  "Alejandro" is 18" x 24" oil on hardwood panel, gallery wrapped. 

hilary j england paintings

Update

Well, I have been feeling recharged with the advent of Autumn, and the kids going back to school, and my household returning to "normal" with a set routine.  I never do good without structure as my wild mind has a way of getting wayward with the "freedom", and I was beginning to flounder at the summer's end.

I began a new painting series, as I just couldn't resist it.  I went outside the other afternoon to photo some new paintings, and, God forgive me, I'm a squeamish coward, I saw a "dead" mouse lying on the sidewalk.  I shuddered, and made a mental note to have Mark or Anthony pick it up (I don't do "dead," puke, crap, garbage, or any other "manly" patrol duty).  Neither were home, but would be within the hour, so I just went about my business like it wasn't there.

The kids arrived home from school, with Taylor in tow, and they all immediately noticed the mouse.  Anthony just breezed by it, issuing his usual greeting, and went into the house looking for food, but all of a sudden I heard an outcry of squeals and exclamations from the girls.  The mouse, it seemed, was still alive.  Yes, upon inspection, there it was, in the throes of death, breathing rapidly, every now and then barely moving a little paw.  I was thoroughly horrified at that point, and revolted.

I told them to get away from it and to let it die in peace.  They yelled at me for not offering a solution, to save this helpless, dying creature.  The rumpus aroused Anthony's curiousity, and he came out, slice of melon in hand, to see what all of the fuss was about.  Upon inspection, he announced it was beyond help, and offered to "mercy kill" for us.  He would simply step on it.  This of course, got him chased out of the yard.

I went into the house, to begin dinner, unable to offer any help.  As the minutes ticked by, I realized the girls were very quiet, and went outside to see what they might be up to.  I know my daughter, and she always has had a very morbid curiousity when it comes to death, but also a very strong compassion when it comes to animals, so I knew the lure of this injured mouse was too powerful to let her go that easily. 

I found them outside, at our patio bar, in full nursing mode.  They had this mouse, whom they had named "Alejandro" laid in his "sickbed," which happened to be one of my kitchen towels (YUCK!), and were treating him with Neosporin.  The scene was a wry one, and I had to smother a smile, yet they were really hellbent on fixing this mouse! 

I sighed, and explained that all the Neosporin in the world wouldn't save "Alejandro," and sometimes, you just have to learn when to say when...you have to learn when to let go. 

At that, we had Anthony take "Alejandro" away, but, their fervent effort, innocence, and expectation really touched me.  It brought back such a flood of memories of what it was to believe the world was good, undeniably, and that all things were able to be fixed, and then the realization that not all things can be repaired the way we want, but sometimes, in the end, it's not what we want, but what we need, and the gift is in that, in the growth of that experience. 

So, I began a painting of that moment, when they looked at me with burning eyes to do something, to help, and they had already begun to grasp the helplessness and reality of the situation. 

This painting series is about growth and innocence lost, and there will be seven paintings in it.

By the way, I am starting number four of the North Atlantic series...I was sidetracked (happily) by a commission, but I have also started that work...

So, that's the update from the newsdesk today!

New painting

"Trepidation" by Hilary J England, oil on hardwood panel, 12" by 12"

I have been really slow about getting things done lately. I have had a tumultuous couple of weeks, and now I am hoping things start to settle down...
This is one of my newest paintings, called "Trepidation." It is 12" by 12" oil on hardwood panel, and it is part of the series I am doing of our relationship with the beach. This painting is the second one that will be exhibited in Barcelona, Spain, in Nov/Dec. of this year.
Well, that's about it. Will post more in another day or two when this "holiday" is over.

Have a good one...

Happy Days

I've gotta tell you, things have been a whirlwind around here, with so many good things going on, I'm just in shock.

Anyway, for starters, I will be exhibiting in Berlin, Germany, at the Infantellina Contemporary Gallery, in their international exhibition, "I am who I am."  This will run from September 25th through October 30th, 2010.

Then, I'm off to Barcelona for the A-Forest Gallery International exhibition, "Square Foot," from November 12th to December 15th, which I will also be participating in.

I have also picked up some new representation, so I am looking at a busy New Year, with three shows in Chelsea, and some more international ones in the works.

So, I am pretty busy, but it's a good busy!  I will post my newest painting tomorrow afternoon, when I can photo and upload it.

Ciao, bella!

Fired Up

I watched that old movie "Reds" last night, with Warren Beatty, Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson (I also noticed Gene Hackman and Paul Sorvino making small appearances). 

This movie really annoyed me to the point of actually changing the channel at one part, because it was so irritating to me...but, when I start something, I like to see it through, so I grudgingly went back to it, all 3 hours of it, and finished it up at around 2 in the a.m....and it was still so annoying, I was actually rooting for the "Hero" to die, so the movie would end!

It was a propagandist, Communist-sympathetic movie...and all I kept thinking about through the end scenes were--Beatty couldn't make any headway in the crush of hysterical Beauracracy which is Communism, amongst other things including extreme violence and brutality against any dissenters, starvation for the masses, etc., so why the HELL do "they" want this system for America?  Because "they" don't really care about the people--"they" want a work force for the so-called "Elite", and F*ck everyone else.  That's what that's about.

Anyway, I've never been the biggest fan of Diane Keaton, but her character was so unsympathetic to me, I was also rooting for her character to die at the end along with Beatty's LOL.  Also, question of the day:  Why do all avowed Atheists starting screaming "Oh God" or "God Help Me" when they are in trouble or crisis?  Just wondering...

So, the movie made me disgruntled, and I woke up thinking about it (which means it did it's job, and provoked a response), and I had a series of little still life paintings I was working on, and in my angst, I created the first (Thanks to Warren and Diane!).  It's above, and it's called "The Angry Lemon."

Kind of how I felt about that movie!

Where I'm at

I guess I've been doing too much thinking again...I really try to avoid that, but it's a constant battle...especially when it comes to my art, and Art in general. 

Of course, I have more than my fair share of the requisite self loathing and the mental chaos that generally accompanies that, but I have chosen to corral that, to reign it into the manageable rather than the debilitating, and with that, stick to benign subject matter, and go from there.  Kind of like sticking your toe into a pool to test the waters rather than just jumping in...and finding it to be be boiling or freezing cold.

Initially, I swore off of painting people, since as a bartender for many years, I found I began to loathe the human race, and all of the insanity that surrounded us.  The chaotic karma that came off of people in general tainted me like a drop of poison in a martini...initially the martini felt and tasted good, then it turned to death.   I stuck to landscapes, in the manner of a person that would knit or garden...a very lovely distraction, where I didn't have to have a true deep emotional investment...yet after a while, I did start having that slant, that bent, that initial taste of blood, and then inevitably, I hungered for more.

I found that I couldn't stay away from the emotional investment, like a cat with a mouse.  In this case, I see myself as the mouse, and not the cat.  The emotional attachment and hunger for more stalked me...it lurked in the background waiting to pounce at any given moment...and so, I began to cave in in small increments, a series of small compromises.  At first, I would only paint people at a very far distance, then, with no discernable features, then, only intimate features of those I love, and then, like a drug addict who finally can restrain themselves no longer, I just blasted it all to pieces and went ballistic and didn't care.

My thoughts are, now that the glass menagerie is in shards and splinters, I must be honest with myself, and accept that my period of isolation is over.  So, where do I stand?

I had aligned myself with the Impressionists in a sort of fantasy of thought.  I loved their dreamy use of paint and color, and I longed for their Bohemian "innocence" with a nostalgia I had no vested interest in.  So, as I painted away...I was living in a protective coccoon--trying to keep safe my last shreds of humanity, which the rest had been stripped away, layer by layer, by the world itself. 

But, in going away to nurse my wounds, like most wounds, if they are not mortal, those wounds recover.  Now, I realize, I must choose which road to travel. 

I would say I most align myself with Social Realism, except for one glaring problem.  I am NOT A LEFTIST, NOR A COMMIE, etc.  I feel that the LEFT has become the new enemy of the people, in a sanguine way.  They try to appear to champion the little guy, all the while despising him.  It's like sugar coating a cyanide capsule. 

So, what genre am I, a person who is certainly a "little person" (and I mean more than just stature), who paints the perspectives of the little people, and lives the life of an average Joe?  I am going to be bold and break rank here, and still say I am a Social Realist.

I am painting and recording the lives of Average Joes in our Middle Class, from their perspective, not from an Elitist one.  Not from a position of disdain masquerading as concern, but from an indifferent point of view as a person who is in the barrel with the rest of the squirming masses.  Not looking down, but looking around.  One who knows.  One who is here in the midst...not one who must foray out at night in disguise, to see what it's like to be "one of them."

And so, here's where I'm at.

"Contemplation"

Here is my new painting, the first in a series of seven, two of which will be going to the exhibition in Barcelona, Spain. 

This painting is called "Contemplation" and it is Gamblin oil on a cradled, primed, masonite support, 12" by 12" (these will all be this size).  Once again, I find myself going back to a square format.  I seem to go through "spurts" in which I like a square format, and now, instead of large squares, I prefer smaller ones.

This painting was done par coer in studio from a series of studies and sketches I did down at the Jersey Shore, of course, my old haunt, Avon-by-the-Sea.

Gabrielle and Bronson

Here is my new pastel painting, "Gabby and Bronson", 9" x 12" pastel on paper, by, of course, Hilary J. England. 

This painting was both wonderful to do, since I painted my babies, but it was also frustrating, since I have not painted portraits for a long time, let alone pastels, which can be a difficult medium to achieve accuracy with sometimes, but, factor the issue of 20 year old pastels, which kept crumbling into colored dust as I tried to use them, which was maddening.  Of course, this is my fault for several reasons, but first and foremost, I should have THROWN THEM OUT AND BOUGHT A NEW SET.  Alas, I'm getting cheap and stubborn in my advancing age (Hey, I'm 40 now!).

Anyway, I've really developed such an interest lately again in portraiture, and have decided to do an indefinite series, which means, until I get sick and tired of doing them, which may take a few years, or not at all!  I guess I was kind of sick and disgusted with people in general for a while, and that reflected in my abhorrence of painting them at all.

Anyway, there will be more to come, now that my heart is starting to thaw out on this subject....

Absolved!!!

Yesterday was Noelle's court hearing for her harassmsnt charge.  For you friends who didn't know the story, Noelle is my 14 year old daughter, and she was walking along school property to her friend's house after school with a small group of girls (ages 12-14), when a group of older boy high school students starting yelling obscenities at them, including:  "Hey sluts, show us your titties!"  She yelled back, "Shut up, you look like fucking chipmunk!"   She was summarily arrested for yelling an obscenity.  To be more clear, a female teacher overheard her say the dreaded "F" word, didn't ask her why, supposedly didn't hear the curses and slurs the men had shouted at the girls, and told her she was in "big trouble" for cursing.  Noelle apologized, and thought that was that. 

The next day, she was called into the principal's office, who told her she was getting a three day out of school suspension for using a profanity on school property, under their "ZERO TOLERANCE" school military code.  If she showed up on school property for any reason during her 3 day out of school suspension, she would be arrested.  She stayed at home and served her three days, never going near the school during that time.  She returned to school and thought that was that.

Two weeks later, she was called out of class to the principal's office.  There, she was bullied by the principal and police officer, who issued her a citation in lieu of arrest, for the charge of HARASSMENT (against the TEACHER because the teacher overheard the curse, and her pure and moral ears were offended) and was told by the principal and police officer that if she didn't pay the $250 fine and plead guilty, she would be arrested, or I would be arrested in her place because she's a minor and I'm responsible for her.  She was absolutely terrorized by these two bullies and then sent home.

We didn't know what the hell was going on, and the principal, nasty little wanna be Napoleon that he is, wouldn't tell us ANYTHING when Mark called, just that there had been an "incident" (we assumed a new incident since this was two weeks later) and the police had been called.

After sitting down with Noelle, talking to her friends who were present, and grilling that asshole principal again, we found out this was all a terrible abuse of authority on the part of the school and police department, and got the American Civil Liberties Union involved (ACLU).  They looked over the incident, gathered their information, and took the case.  Yesterday, we went to court, and the school looked like a bunch of bullying idiots (which they are) as did the Police Officer, who in all honesty, was just a slow, dimwitted fellow who was doing what he was told to do...pathetic, if it didn't have the potential to have a negative impact on my daughter's future.

So, now we move forward to make sure the school can't bully it's students like this again without recourse.  The public school system has become a Nazi enterprise (at least in our area), where they our allowed to deprive students of their rights to an education on ANY basis they so choose, and feel that the parents and public are "beneath" them, and they can do whatever they want without any consequences.  This includes young male teachers looking underneath 13 year old girls clothing to make sure they are wearing the right colored underwear and bra....which happened to my daughter on several different occasions this year, as to her friends. 

More to come on that subject!!!!

Field's End Art by Hilary J. England: A quick morning "hello"

Field's End Art by Hilary J. England: A quick morning "hello": "Hello Friends! I have updated my 'traditional' website, http://www.fieldsendart.com/ with some new paintings, etc. I kind of debated givi..."

A quick morning "hello"

Hello Friends!

I have updated my "traditional" website, http://www.fieldsendart.com/  with some new paintings, etc.  I kind of debated giving up a "traditional" website, and had it torn down for a while, to see if it was really necessary or not, being I am linked and listed on so many other sites...after the experiment, I deemed it actually still is a necessary site, so back up it went!

I am dragging tail this morning, but some more coffee should fix that.  Mark made a wonderful breakfast of a nice small omelet with chives, fresh mushrooms, fresh tomato, and fresh mozzarella, along with a nice garden fresh fruit cup, and freshly ground coffee...notice the theme here, FRESH.  I've grown cantankerous, and loathe anything "prepackaged" or "quick."  We have taken small steps to homesteading, such as our garden and herbarium, but Mark says NO to the idea of chickens...spoilsport ;-)

I've got alot of work to do today, and I'm starting to stress about tomorrow...projection projection projection...always that negative thought factory processing up bullshit.  I have made a conscious decision to consistently strike down any negative thoughts that come into my head, and I have to say, I am feeling better for it.  Not running through a field of wildflowers on a mountain slope in the Alps happy, but happy and contented enough!

So, that's the little tidbit for today...website is up and running again.

Field's End Art by Hilary J. England: Barcelona exhibition

Field's End Art by Hilary J. England: Barcelona exhibition: "I got word on the Barcelona show I was invited to exhibit with yesterday, so that should be an interesting and exciting trip. The show will..."

Barcelona exhibition

I got word on the Barcelona show I was invited to exhibit with yesterday, so that should be an interesting and exciting trip.  The show will run from November 20th to December 4th, with the opening reception being the night of November 25th, from 7:30 to 10:30 pm (which is Thanksgiving here in the US).  I didn't get the gallery information yet, and I am awaiting that confirmation, but I will be heading to Spain for that opening, and for several days before.  Translation, I will be in Spain for Thanksgiving, but the kids understand, and we plan to have a "belated" dinner when I return. 

As I get more information, I will disperse it.  It will be organized by the A-Forest gallery in Chelsea, NYC, and it will be very close to the Picasso museum in Barcelona is the only heads up I have right now.  I do look forward to meeting some of my European friends when I get there, and I suppose I should brush up on my very rusty Spanish (this is aimed at Mark as well).

Again, more to come in the next few weeks...

Plus, I will be posting my newest creations in the next couple of days, but scratch Tuesday and Wednesday, because I have to go to court on Tuesday (yuck) for N and her cursing offense, and I'll be heading back to the beach on Wednesday, to relax after Tuesday, and to do some more painting.  So, look for the new pictures on Thursday.  How's that for specifics??

Anyway, off to bed.  I feel very tired, but I can't extricate myself from the grips of the computer...I must!  Time to dream about the ocean at night, or a long quiet flight over the Atlantic, with the serene darkness seemingly impenetrable, and the comforting path of the airplane on the GPS overhead...and stepping off into the arid heat of Madrid...or of soaking my toes in the Mediterranean, with the soft breeze against my face. 

Good night all!

New portrait

"For Dawn" by Hilary J. England, 8" x 10" pastel/mixed media on charcoal paper

Here is a new portrait I did for my friend.  I enjoy doing portraits alot, and had forgotten how much I did.  I used to do commissioned work, but I stopped in pursuit of "doing my own thing..." maybe I'll start doing some commissions again...

Beach paintings

beach paintings

New art

impressionism paintings
Here is a link to some really nice paintings, aside from my own.  Enjoy!!

Field's End Art by Hilary J. England: New painting

Field's End Art by Hilary J. England: New painting: "'The Boot' by Hilary J. England 11' x 14' oil on canvas I've been quite busy, so my posting has been slow. I've been enjoying the fine ..."

New painting

"The Boot" by Hilary J. England 11" x 14" oil on canvas

I've been quite busy, so my posting has been slow.  I've been enjoying the fine weather, and putting it to good use both outside and in my studio...I've made the heat in there somewhat bearable by several large fans around me when I work...providing it's not sweltering, it works.

I move along, painting what I love.  I am pondering a few new ideas for a new series, although I will keep painting the Atlantic, and our relationship with it, since I must have saltwater in my veins, and I cannot stay away from the ocean...no matter where I live, I will always migrate back to the ocean.  Maybe I'm part sea turtle.

So, I'm working on putting some things together...I'm always plotting and planning, and sometimes it works out, well, you know the rest...

As for the new series, it is still up in the air...more to come as it comes to me.

Stonehedge

"The wall at Stonehedge"  by Hilary J. England 8" x 11" oil on canvas

It was a lovely day at Stonehedge today, not an ounce of humidity, not a gnat to bother me, a cloud in the sky, or another soul in sight...another words, a pure delight.  I painted this low, weathered, ancient stone wall, and the array of vegetation around it (in case you can't tell what it is).

I should have been happy, I should have been ecstatic, I should have been grateful, but I was on guard against contrite thoughts.  I have been feeling blue...which is hard and seemingly surreal, when the day is blazing in its perfect glory all around me. 

I looked out at the algae filled ponds, at the little family of Canadian geese, and for just an instant, I was catapulted back in time...to Mickley Road, and Gab was a baby...and the world was still beautiful and new, with all of the promises and happiness yet to be.  It was both wonderful and awful all in the same instant, and then almost immediately gone...and I was left hollow, with the sunlight streaming into my eyes, like a visitor on an alien planet.  I packed up and left then...hastily signing the painting, and looking to outrun the melancholy.

I'm home now, obviously.  Tonight is M's birthday, so I will lumber along with him, put my game face on, and just wait for the reprieve of sleep....

New Painting

"The three amigos" oil on canvas 12" by 16" by Hilary J. England

Here is my newest painting...it's more precious to me now, since our oceans are being destroyed by the Gulf oil spill.  How long will our beaches remain beautiful???  It's a sad and scary thought....

Anyway, this will be an ongoing series until the oil washes up on the shores, and then, maybe still. 

This was developed par coer in studio from plein air paintings and studies done at the shore....

Free Speech

I am thankful for the ACLU.  I know they get a bad rap from alot of conservatives, but they are a vital organization for this country.  There are alot of wanna be little Hitlers out there, trying impose their control on anyone they can, or are in a position to, and we definitely need our "watchdog" associations out there to prevent these evil people from trying to inflict their warped and controlling mindset on to the rest of us.

Noelle got a ticket for uttering a curse word in a public argument in which she was being sexually harassed.  Since she is 14 years old, if I don't pay her fine UPFRONT (guilty until proven innocent), *I* stand to go to jail in lieu of her, since she is a minor.  This occured in a school zone.  The schools have gone insane.  The ACLU has stepped in, and will fight to protect her/our rights. 

For that, I am very thankful.  This land that we live in has, unfortunately, become a populace seething with little people trying to Lord over their neighbors....as the old song goes, "Everybody wants to rule the world."  We certainly need our system of checks and balances, which seems to be fading fast in the face of people gleefully giving away our rights in a bid to "own" their fellow mankind.  Remember people, giving away rights and turning people over to the authorities is how every evil civilization came to power...it started with the average man...and spread it's poison from there.  If we reject the ideas of brutality and hatred on a personal level, it can't gain a foothold on us as a community....

Blazing Heat!

"Stonehedge water spout" oil on masonite 8" x 10"

It's been a scorcher these last few days...actually had to turn the A/C on so I didn't turn into a mummy while I was sleeping!  I've been pretty busy through it all, with a local high school student tagging along with me to understand what it would entail to be an artist.  This is some new twist on career counseling/"go to work for a day" that has been developing over the last few years.  This was through Jim Thorpe high school, not my own personal school district, but it was a nice program nonetheless.  She was a very nice girl, but unfortunately, she suffered from seasonal allergies also, so when I took her out into the gardens to paint, we spent the afternoon simultaneously sneezing and getting covered in clouds of pollen...pretty horrible. 

 I went home so covered in the vile stuff, my eyes were nearly swollen shut.  After her teacher picked her up, I jumped into the shower so fast I almost forgot to peel off my coated clothing!  It was a nightmare in that respect (dealing with what Mother Nature chucks at you), but I think that the student enjoyed the relaxing pace of the afternoon, so I suppose it went well in the bigger picture of the day.

I've been preparing for the show I have coming up--framing and registering the paintings, etc.  Even with proper ventilation, my old barn studio gets pretty heated up by midafternoon, so I have to retreat into the cool recesses of either the house or under a tree until the sun goes down...I feel like a vampire!!

Anyway, I've been working alot lately, and feeling pretty good.  I'm looking forward to getting a good deal of work done through the summer, God willing, and just enjoying each lovely season as it comes upon us...

New Painting--

"Sunday afternoon at the tide pool" by Hilary J. England, 24" by 30" oil on canvas

It's been a while since I've posted, and for that, I'm apologize.  I really have suffered over the last weeks with depression, and it's been a hard struggle.  I'm starting to come out of it a bit now...

About this painting:  This was done from several studies at the shore.  I did this in studio, and it was a true battle to get it finished, since I was feeling so poorly, I could barely even pick up my brushes.  I couldn't keep focused on the painting, and wound up smoking a cigarette for every 1/2 hour of time put into it...LOL...not a healthy diversion to say the least.

This painting was done from these studies, but also from a very strong image I had in my mind throughout all of this...this middle aged couple, looking so happy and content, enjoying their Sunday, the rest of the world was away from them...I was an interloper, looking into their bliss...feeling happy for them, feeling content for them...wishing to feel their happiness as well...like looking through the picture window of a storefront.

I hope you enjoy it..I do now that it's done.

New painting

"The Lesser Bridge" by Hilary J England 8" x 10" oil on canvas

Alot has gone on since my last blog--most of it is very personal, so I'll leave it there.  It has affected me very deeply though, and in that respect, it has driven me even further and more frantically to paint, which is actually a pleasant "by product," rather than shrinking into a nonproductive depression and shutting down.

Anyway, the above painting was done at the Hill to Hill bridge in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.  It was a very pleasant day, and I was with my Bethlehem group of artists, so there was a nice little gathering.  I kind of wandered off the path and found this little stone footbridge, bathed in sunlight to the left, yet the murky, muddy little creek was completely in shadow from the large, elegant trees that crowded it's narrow banks.  I found the hollow of the little arch somewhat intriguing, from the vantage point of "looking over the shoulder" of a very large tree...which had a lovely array of ground foliage surrounding it, and ivy creeping up and around it...ivy, which turned out to be POISON IVY, which I had plopped myself down in the middle of!!! 

After this realization, I accepted the fact that the damage had already been done, and to switch locations was futile...so I just shrugged it off and went forward with the painting :-)  

So far, no rash...

Down in a hole

"Stonehedge barn and flowerbeds" by Hilary J England, 9" x 12" oil on canvas

I've been depressed lately, and it's affecting my work...everything is bothersome and irritating, and it's infuriating to me lately to paint outdoors, since the weather has been so uncooperative, it's like a black cloud is following me around, and it makes me really down.  I have alot of bad stuff going on personally, with Nicole now terminal with her brain cancer, and my Dad hanging on with his leukemia, and then throw in your every day annoyances and troubles, and presto!!  Depression.

I have been forcing myself to go out daily to paint, even though everything in my body screams out "NO!!"  I don't know if helps or it hurts...I guess it helps to get out of the house, but it frustrates me with my own lack of focus, and will to do it, and then I get upset with the results...a bad cycle to be caught in.

Still, I will try to push through this roadblock, and try to envision the light at the end of the tunnel.  It's tough right now, but hopefully, it will all dissipate soon...

Painting Series

"The meadows of Winter Mountain" by Hilary J England, 9" x 12" oil on canvas

Today's painting was not too far from home, but I had a bit of difficulty due to two of my brushes falling apart...so I was forced to work with on brush only, which, hey, when you're tossed lemons, make lemonade!   Plus, half way through the painting, I got stung by a bee...

Anyway, these are the obstacles you have to deal with when you paint outside...enjoyable nonetheless.

Beautiful weather and happy little ducks

The weather here has been superb.  I've been getting alot of painting done en plein air, one a day, but actually would like to step it up to two paintings per day...I know it's ambitious, but if I have the time and inclination, why not?

I painted at the canals in Walnutport today, with a little gaggle of ducks hanging around me in curiosity...which was just fine by me, since they are soothing little creatures, with an occasional quack, and mostly just sitting about preening their feathers.  The tone was so high today, it was as if the entire universe was in high key, the sun blinding, the newly budding trees and explosion of yellows, high tone greens and pinks, in contrast to the brown, murky canal...absolutely beautiful.

Alas, I tried to photo the painting when I got home, but the light didn't cooperate.  So, instead, I'll post the Conte drawing I did yesterday in Bethlehem of our lovely older model Grayce.  She was very cordial to sit for us for a while, and being that I forgot my paints, I was forced to retreat into Conte crayons, which I don't really like, but, hey, discomfort is good sometimes. 

"Grayce"  Conte on Ingres paper, 12" x 16"

I realized when I uploaded and cropped this drawing, it put her dead center, which is not how I put her down on paper--she was located to the right of the drawing, with her gazing profile to the left.  So, it's not me being very boring, just my photoshop is completely out of control!!!!

Another day on Hawk Mountain

"Hawk Mountain on an ominous day"  by Hilary J. England  9" x 12" oil on canvas

I spent another day on Hawk Mountain--today it was very rushed, since it was overcast, and the threat of rain was pretty certain.  I enjoyed the time, although it was punctuated by hordes of children--it must have been class trip day!! 

The mountain was very overcast, you couldn't really see very far into the valley, but the gray sky had such a peace about it, although again, no hawks, just a scattering of turkey vultures soaring on the winds fanned upward from the valley floor.

While I was there, my mind was flooded with so many thoughts, I was actually thankful for the repetitive interruptions...the vista inspires my mind to flow, and many times, it seeps into places I'd rather would remain in the recesses of my mind, and makes me feel sad feelings, feelings of regret and loss, of time irretrievable, and I have a struggle on my hands...not with my painting, but to "close" Pandora's box back up again.  The painting actually keeps me in the "here and now," knowing it's something tangible, it's something I'm creating, I'm building, not tearing down, it won't go away unless it's physically destroyed, and it will be "loved."  All very soothing thoughts...

Anyway, I won't post another landscape until Friday, as tomorrow is some figure work....

Day at Hawk Mountain

"Hawk Mountain, Springtime" 9" x 12" oil on canvas panel by Hilary J. England

It was a beautiful day on the mountain--I was painting at high noon, and the light was nearly blinding, with only an occasional cloud as a reprieve.  The view into the valley was serene and almost ethereal.  There were a few low flying turkey vultures hanging on the soft breeze, wobbling in the vacuum of the space above the valley.   It was as if they were being pulled by invisible puppet strings, or balancing precariously on a nonexistent tight rope.   I was able to listen to the sound of silence and breath in the sweet, clear air...  It was slightly scented of pine, new foliage, and a hint of manure, emanating up the gentle slopes, originating at the neighboring farms in the far distance of the valley.  There were very few distractions, aside from a plague of flies (maybe I smelled like food to them?), and an accidental tourist into the line of vision, but that's all expected.  All in all, it was a very serene afternoon.

I am intending on painting a painting a day outside --weather permitting or not--for the next thirty days.  Let's see how long until I have to eat my words with some strange, unseasonal weather!!!  Hopefully, not.

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!!

Boiling cauldron!

"The Sand Bar" by Hilary J England

I am tired of the politics of art.  I don't want this to be a platform for a raging rant, but I'm so sick of the hypocrisy...

Back in the "dark ages," the Salon refused to show work that wasn't cookie cutter, exactly the traditional style of painting that all artists were forced to adhere to, and in essence, we've gone back to that standard.  Many galleries and reps want either the total garbage of "abstraction" in which it's more hot air and hype than it is any form of art, or the boring, restrained, constipated forms of realism that you get tired just looking at them...thinking, if this is the smug, bland world these people live in, I'm happy to be insane.

So, there it is...we're back to the traditions of the Salon.  If you do something that falls outside of these two genres, the elitist wanna be intellectuals look down their nose for fear of change...change that will rock the boat, or expose the hypocrisy they've grown to embrace.  Sickening indeed.

So, that's my rant.  I'm done with it...sorry for the impolite outburst!!

Good Friday

Today is Good Friday, and as a believer, this is day always marks the beginning of a horrible yet glorious journey began over 2000 years ago, for our sakes...a permanent change in the universe, a cataclysmic shift in the cosmos...the opening and option of Heaven for us.  

I always cry when I think of the depths of pain, and to the limitless heights of Heaven Jesus decidedly accomplished for us.  To think that for the time he spent on the cross, how horrible it was for him, to be despised by all of Heaven and earth, the unimaginable pain and isolation he bore during that time.   As a parent, to is incomprehensible to me to think of my son being crucified, and me DESPISING him as he hung on that cross, which is what happened in those hours, when Jesus was separated even from the Father.  The thought is absolutely heartbreaking, and yet from the darkest recesses of pain, came the ultimate glory...the ultimate sacrifice brought the purest and most supreme love.

 From my human heart, I can't thank him enough, or love him more deeply for HIS love, his suffering, his beauty.  Thinking of the limitless options and choices he had at his disposal, a selfish God would have left us to contend with ultimate consequences to our actions, but instead he chose to love, and offered us that choice in return.  Thank you Jesus.

April Fool's!!!

Life Is Beautiful

The joke apparently is on me!!  Anyway, after almost getting run down by an 18 wheeler on a blind bend  on the highway, after my car konked out, with no shoulder to go to,  I was pretty freaked...especially with Cannoli in the car...if it had only been me, I might not as felt as much rage as I did...we made it narrowly off into the weeds before almost jackknifing the trailer...

After the pain subsided, and we waited for the tow, I felt like my senses were super-heightened...I always get like that after a total adrenaline rush, good or bad.  I realized alot of different things in those few minutes after, and even now...and I feel pretty emboldened by the revelations, and even inspired!  So, something good came from something "bad" and for that I'm so grateful. 

Here's my parting thought:

Life Is Beautiful by Sixx A.M. :

You can’t quit until you try
You can’t live until you die

You can’t learn to tell the truth

Until you learn to lie



You can’t breathe until you choke

You gotta laugh when you’re the joke

There’s nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive



Just open your eyes

Just open your eyes

And see that life is beautiful.

Will you swear on your life,

That no one will cry at my funeral?



I know some things that you don’t

I’ve done things that you won’t

There’s nothing like a trail of blood

to find your way back home



I was waiting for my hearse

What came next was so much worse

It took a funeral to make me feel alive



Just open your eyes

Just open your eyes

And see that life is beautiful.

Will you swear on your life,

That no one will cry at my funeral?

 Thanks Nikki and other fellow travelers for your long painful road that truly enabled this insight.

Crunch...crunch...it's just a sound in my head!

"Emmie's Yard" by Hilary J. England

My mind is all over the map these last few days...I've been writing alot, but too much of it's way too private, sorry.  I find it difficult to walk the line of what to reveal and what not to, as we all wear our private and public masks, and I'm no different.  I wish I could be 100% authentic in putting it all out there, but there is some good to leaving a bit of mystery, and also insures you won't be locked away permanently ;-)   I find people who put it all out there don't come off as authentic, just as tiresome and needy, so enough said about that!

I went down to Jordan creek and had my lunch, alone, and thought wistfully back to when G was a baby, no older than Maddy is now, and how I would take her down to this creek to feed the ducks...where had time gone, and was I any better for it...the thoughts have been haunting me.

I had been awakened early this morning by the clamorous sound of a passing dump truck, and with my window slightly open, it startled me.   Also, the temperature had changed so radically, it went from icy last night to balmy this morning, and I was suffocating under my comforter.  I couldn't fall back asleep, so I began mulling many things in the twilight, so much my head began to hurt from thinking...that awful "why won't this maelstrom stop!!" feeling, so, I began to meditate, and that began to weed the lunatic from the lucid thoughts.  One thought I have been pondering is the difference between men and women, in terms of relationships and their expectations, and I've boiled it down to one essence,  that seems to be unconsciously true for me--women are looking for God in a man, and men are looking for Mother (yes, the old "Madonna/whore" syndrome), and ne'er shall the two find completion.  I've realized that God is God, Man is Man, and no man will ever approach God-like wisdom, stature, or character...so forget that.

So, where to go from here?  Just forget about intimacy with another human altogether?  Just forego the pain and BS and seek to perfect your mind and spirtual walk on this earth, until your journey is over?  I have found precious few people who are truly content, and in truth, I've never met them---I've heard them on the radio, doling out advice to the rest of us miserable, woefully misguided mass of humanity, or seen them grinning sparkly, scary white smiles from television pulpits, but in my private life, I've never met a truly contented, balanced human.  Sad.  This leaves me vulnerable, and confused.  Two words I despise.

So, I try to run from it, but I can't.  I can hop that plane to Los Angeles, or to London, or to the Equator, or South Pole, but when I step off, these dark thoughts are with me, in my lap, in my purse, in my mind, on my phone...I probably think too much, but I am who I am, so I'm stuck with that (and NO--I won't take some damn medicine to flat line my brain!!).

So, those are the issues of today, this day, the most important day, since in all actuality, today is all any of us really have--corny as that sounds, it's the biggest of Truth, so, I have to make it count...throw myself into my painting, and just forget about the rest....

Busy couple of days....

I just got back from NYC--I was pretty busy running about doing "my thing" there.  I love the City, and I never ever tire of going--after all, it is my hometown...

Anyway, I went in to hammer out the details of my upcoming exhibit at the A-Forest Gallery on 28th Street.  That will be from June 1st to the 15th, and I'll let you know what day the opening reception will be. 

I went to MoMA yesterday, and it's always a treat, even when it was as PACKED as it was, in honor of the Tim Burton exhibition, which was marvelous.  Extremely talented man....

Despite the rain, and wind, Jilly and I managed to find a charming Tapas bar, and it was like going down the rabbit hole, with all of the quirky chandeliers and gauzy curtains...after drinking a pitcher of Sangria, we sat and enjoyed the wonderful Flamenco dancers...also giving us a marvelous show.

We left there and took the subway uptown, and wound up in a wine bar called Ouzo--drinking a hybrid lambrusco out of porcelain bowls--interesting and intoxicating!

We woke up this morning, and headed out to Tal Bagels, had pumpernickle bagels with olive cream cheese and green tea for breakfast, and then went and stopped at the Goodwill, looked around, chatted with the elderly attendants, and petted the dogs that were hanging around in there.  We also decided to go into the two local churches to look at the architecture--one was an Episcopalian Church, the other, Our Lady of Good Counsel, a Catholic church.  Both very beautiful and lavish, with much love and attention to detail in the ornate interiors...they just don't make 'em like that anymore....

Got home after a 3 hour trip with some traffic, made a fast dinner, and here it is, 11:00 pm--and I'm pretty tired.  Will start posting the new paintings...

Good night all!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0MgqquN4Rs

Shark Stories

I have always had an obsession with sharks...being the apex predators of the sea, which I am also fascinated with...I can't live without the ocean, the majesty and beauty of it, the mysteries of the deep, the folklore and the truly amazing nonfiction that is associated with it, is just a source of endless fascination.

I think of the story of the woman who was kayaking off of Catalina island, while her husband and two sons fished off of their boat.  Apparently, when this family would take weekend excursions out to sea, the woman would untie her kayak and take some time to kayak in the open ocean while the men fished.  She said the peacefulness of the sea was breathtaking, and she enjoyed the time alone very much. 

On this particular occasion, she was violently "bumped" by a large object that forced her kayak forward...when she looked, she saw an enormous grey mass, and she assumed it was a whale, until she saw the towering dorsal fin break from the water.  Realizing she was having an encounter with a great white shark, she began to paddle away in a panic.  The beast then slipped below the waves, and attacked the kayak from below, launching her ten feet into the air, while nearby fishermen watched in disbelief.  She then landed in ankle deep water, in the middle of the ocean.  The reason:  she was standing on the back of the giant creature. 

There, in front of an audience of horrified fishermen who were on their way to rescue her, they watched as she rode the enormous creature, who was now going out even further to sea with her.  Her last chance was to jump from it's back and take a chance swimming to them, which she did successfully.  This story has completely fascinated me by the sheer enormity of it--how many people on earth can say they rode on the back of a 20 foot great white shark?  Perhaps only her?  We know Jonah rode *in* the belly of the beast, but not on it's back.  Amazing.  She should've played the lottery when she got home!

There are so many other stories, many that do not have the same happy ending, but are fascinating none-the-less.   Maybe one day I will write a compilation of my favorites....for other shark admirers.

Blank

I have so much to say...let out of the hospital this weekend...but don't know if I can be OK.  Heart is "good", everything is "good,"  except, except, Probably not.   My heart is "touchy."  It's arrogant, and willful.  Like me.  It tries to rule and dictate, but it has a big argument...Me.   It tried, and it was a stalemate.  I can assimilate everything...so I thought...but, the hideousness of everything whiplashed me.  It came back and hit me in the back end...it tried to overwhelm me.  NO.   Wrapped up..alone...can I be hurt?  Yes...so immensely.  "It's the stars that lie to you.  I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed....all I know is that it feels like forever..." 

What happened to you?  You know...I don't.  It doesn't matter.  I'm carrying a torch in a world that SUPPOSEDLY becomes less real, because of the ugly, cowardly reality.  I SEE the truth.  I'm NOT a liar, I love...I LOVE so deeply....so deeply...too deeply...deeply enough to kill me.  My beautiful family knows this, sees this, fears this.  They mobilize to be my friend and recall lovely memories..

Paintings, exhibitions, travel...I move forward despite my treacherous self..my nature that fights against me...that is insistent in decimating me....

New painting!

Incredible lightness of being...yea right! Well, a new painting is born!  It was a grueling weekend, with misbehaved teens, a fiasco of a drawing marathon, and raw nerves....I ALMOST drove to LaGuardia ready to set out for Taiwan or New Zealand, or wherever my Visa and my visa would take me!  Almost...

The drawing marathon was pretty damned funny in hindsight...my day started off with my dog disappearing thanks to M's brain amnesia, a faulty ATM that nearly ate my card, heavy traffic, bad directions, 3 hours on the road for a 45 minute trip, and that was just getting to the marathon...once there, there was no parking, the drawing rooms were packed to bursting, it was either freezing or sweltering in either room, and there was no room to move, let alone breath.  I went to the bathroom and came back to some older woman moving my stuff off of my easel, because she "thought it wasn't being used" for the five minutes I was gone.  The icing on the cake--a very unattractive man posing in THE most unattractive pose (looked like Buddha on a toilet)  for three solid hours.  I was ready to head down to the local bar by the time the 21 year old Don Juan wannabe next to me began hitting on me in earnest....it was pretty much a nightmare.  Through this whole fiasco, I received about 50 phone calls from my teens at home embroiled in World War III that got me so peeved I decided decamping to another continent may be the only solution....

Needless to say, I got a handful of gestures before some bozo set up her easel directly in front of mine, literally blocking my entire view.  I did manage to make her understand how incredibly rude it was to walk in 1 hour late, disrupt the class, and the artists in session.  She sniffed at the rebuke and sulkily moved her easel to a cramped but empty corner of the room.  I did manage one, horrendous drawing, which we got a terrific laugh over.  I will post it as soon as I get it uploaded.  I also managed a fast color drawing of one of the female models, which is rather lukewarm to me.  I was completely irritated at the entire affair by that point, and couldn't get into it....

Anyway, I have a new oil to post, and will have more this weekend after another shore excursion.  It's really the only place I can find my center anymore....

This painting is called "Solitude" and it's 12" by 16" oil on canvas.  The day was brilliant, cool and I could just feel pending Spring...once again, Avon-by-the-Sea, New Jersey.

Technology and me, we just disagree!

I've been working on alot of body studies lately, and, in purely selfish interest, I enjoy to work a bit on the large size, which makes it hard to photo correctly...so, I thought to myself, maybe I could scan a portion of each??  Doesn't make sense really, only in my own mind!

Anyway, I tried to fold the artwork, and scan it, and I just managed to damage it...the scan came out very strange, and now I have to repair the drawings...I'm thinking of cutting away the excess paper, and mounting them in to a large "scrapbook" of sorts, since I have many, many drawings, and, I don't know what to do with most of them...so, this at least keeps them neat, and keeps a record of things, progress, changing times, etc.

So, I will begin to gather and put them together....

Something to think about....

Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775.




No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The questing before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.



Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.



I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free-- if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of hosts is all that is left us!



They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.



It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

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That is really something to think about...

The Blues

"Painting is not just an activity, it is a way of life; a painter lives in and through painting. As the materials of painting are not just part of the process by which the work happens, but part of the end-product as well through their transcending this distinction between means and ends, they are the very way this aspect of the painter's being both manifests and realises itself. They are the vehicle through which the painter's life as a painter happens, unfolds itself, realises itself. This manifests itself back through the materials. The realisation of the materials through the painting is the realisation of the painter through them. His potentiality is their potentiality, and their potentiality his. Thus, his being drawn towards certain materials is his being drawn towards a certain potentiality of his own." --Nigel Wentworth, The Phenomenology of Painting

Lately, I have being reading the biographies of many of my favorite artists through the ages.  The parallels in some of their lives, is eerily strange sometimes.  Like Frida Kahlo, my father is of German origin, and also a photographer.  She suffered a life altering motor vehicle accident that left her lamed in her leg and back, like I did.  She is also half Hispanic, like me...she shares alot of personality traits, such as her tendency towards "duality."

So many different artists seem to share similar things...Vincent's literal propensity, like me...Monet's love of the land and family...Renoir's motif of his "girls..." the list can go on and on.

I've been feeling very sluggish lately, and I don't know if I can attribute it strictly to the doldrums of winter, and a form of cabin fever.  I usually get this way around mid-February, where it just seems one cold day blends into the next, and the dirt never leaves the house, from the constant trail of muddy bootprints.  It's enough to me go back to bed and watch an old Bogart movie...quite happily.

The snow, as peaceful as it is on the gentles slopes of the countryside, incites fatigue rather than passion...I feel the constant intrusions into my time more sharply now, as if my skin is raw and the nerves are exposed.  I feel weepy rather than rejoicing when I see the icy landscape.   It's beautiful, but the monotony of winter is getting to me, and I need a change to light a "fire" in my gut.

I've started working on my portrait commission.  I'm in the earliest stages of designing the layout and palette...putting together the mechanics of it.  I will prep and prime the canvas tomorrow, after I get back from NYC.  Today was a waste--I spent the morning languishing in the Dr's office for my yearly appointment and some routine tests...then to the dentist on Thursday, and of course it's Valentine's weekend, and all of M's plans and guests...I can't stand it anymore.  I'm feeling like I literally have to go missing soon to get some quality, uninterrupted time of my own.  I don't mean two or three hours, I'm talking two or three weeks.  The interruptions are destroying my nerves...and not allowing me a free flow of creative thought...this keeps me up at night, and the cycle is maddening.

G went to the hospital today...perhaps her baby is coming.  She feels bad, and I hope it is just her own stresses that is causing her discomfort, and nothing more serious.  D stopped by this afternoon, and said she had quite the little group together for our life drawing sessions on Sunday, unfortunately, the blizzard (and of course Super Bowl for the fellas) sidetracked our session last night, and now, Valentine's day falls on this coming Sunday, and I'm obligated to that too...so, no get together for another 2 weeks....always something, always something.

I dream myself away, my Muse comforts me there.  We work on long projects, and she promises me one day soon, we'll spend some quality time together....until then, stay well beloved.

Sunday Blahs........

It's Super Bowl Sunday, and I couldn't sleep a wink last night, so I woke up early for breakfast, realized I was nearly comatose, and went back to my bed.  Mark let me sleep right through Church, and I woke up at around noon to the phone ringing, and other such unpleasantries...

I think I'm catching cold, or we need to dust, because it's allergies.  Whatever, it's irritating and adding to my not so happy mood.  We're supposed to get together for a life drawing sessions later, and the guys are expecting a Super Bowl spread, not to mention I have to get to the gym, pick up the youngest gal, and I really don't feel like doing much of anything at all.

I had very odd dreams, and that always makes me feel like I'm still under the influence of sleep...half awake, half gone.  I tried reading some art magazines, but that only brought me down, reading the "garbage" explanations for crappy work...they put more effort into trying to explain the slop that is on their canvas, than in the actual artwork itself.  If bullshit was a medium, we'd have an awful lot of Masters about.

So, that's that.  I've met up with an amazing local photographer, and we are looking to come to terms on him photographing my work, which is a bit of wonderful news, since this has been a huge sticking point for me.  I really look forward to working with Rod, and this will be a big load off of my shoulders since when it comes time to photograph my work, I get rather bent out of shape during the task.  It generally takes me all day for one decent shot, and I really don't want to waste that time, since it's time I could be painting rather than doing that sh*t.  So, that's happy news.

I have several shows coming up, and have to really get a move on.  I'm looking for some wholesale framing venues, since, as all other Artist's know, framing is another demon in the unholy trinity of annoyances that comes with being a painter...framing, photographing, and shipping.  The devils of the business.

I'm working with a gallery in London for a summer exhibition, so, when I head to Paris in July, I will stop off there for several days and see what I can get accomplished.  I need to take my vitamins and keep the pace going!!

I have been working on some charcoal self portraits, but, will move on to canvas.  I'm also beginning a portrait commission, so that will take some time--probably about a week...

Will post news and new photos as it comes!!!

Ciao!

my blog at: www.fieldsendart.blogspot.com - by Hilary J. England

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Sniffling in the cold...

I've been outside, sneezing and sniffling with what must be a cold...but, hey, at least I got to get some photos done, since it is only sub Artic versus Artic today....

This painting is called:  "Past their prime" and it is 12" by 16" oil on canvas.  This was done in studio of course, and there will be another four florals to come along, so I'm thinking right now.  This, of course, is subject to change!