No. 390: Post-It Boat

No. 390: Quintessence 2, watercolor and colored pencil, November 2017.

It's a wicked 14 degrees out there and there's a lake effect snow warning.
When this painting was conceived, however, Lake Erie reflected sunlight and recreation. Party people and weekenders were riding waves of relaxation -- not shoveling themselves out.

About those flags ... read on ...

The clients and I looked through a few photos of Quintessence, and chose none until late summer when a weekend trip to Sandusky produced this shot of the boat docked at Cedar Point. "That's the one!" I was informed.
Quintessence means "the most perfect example."

Choosing the mat before framing.

"Can you do it?"
Well, I had painted Lake Erie before: The lighthouse and the railroad bridge at Ashtabula Harbor, to name two. The water wouldn't be a problem, I reasoned. And the photo of Quintessence was nice and detailed. So I dove in.

This sketch is the backbone of the painting.

It was November when I had her finished. By then the leaves were falling and the boat, I am sure, was tarped and stored for the season.

Before the flags.

Also by that point the Ohio State Buckeyes were well into their season. And the owners of this vessel are serious Ohio State fans.

Nope. Wrong way in the wind.

To highlight that point, I was asked to add to a Buckeye banner to the boat.
And, while I was at it, the Stars and Stripes, too.
This involved some guessing: How big? What shape?  Which way would they blow in the wind?
My solution was to draw various flags on Post-It Notes, stick them to the nearly-finished painting and email them back and forth. It worked, and we settled on two choices.
You can see in the photos how we changed our minds.

Nope. Wrong choice for Ohio State banner.

By the time Quintessence, The Painting, was delivered at Christmas. the Buckeyes were ending their season and the winds over Lake Erie were burying places such as Erie, Pa. and Buffalo, N.Y. 

Yep. There it is.

It does give me a warm feeling, looking at the trees on the shore, light on the water and the sun on the wood. I've visited the lake enough and have been on enough boats to know what that feels, sounds and smells like.  I'd call it "alive."

Before the red and white paint.

Stay toasty, my friends. until you can fly your flags again in 2018. 
Happy New Year.

The 2017 Holiday Collection

No. 390, "Quintessence," watercolor, November 2017. Justin Trevis

A handful of people had Tom Wills Productions to unwrap this year.  I usually start on the holiday work in October and try to have the orders fulfilled by mid-December. Thanksgiving for me signals crunch time: Get them finished, framed and delivered!

This season’s big production is Quintessence, a large boat harbored in Sandusky — Cedar Point, specifically.

This watercolor required several back and forth pics as we added flags and other details, and removed some too. This one is a real surprise for a young guy’s dad, a big Ohio State fan.

No. 393, Mills Family No. 3, November 2017, William Sullivan

This is the third year that I have drawn the Mills family kids. This year we threw in mom and dad and two scarecrows.
Scarecrows?

It’s been a neighborhood ritual for six years: Twenty builders - a small army - took advantage of terrific weather to build six scarecrows.  The five-member Mills family assembled a Cincinnati Bengals player. “In the NFL, some players kneel during the National Anthem. Our football players always stand,” I was told. “It's an adventure in building scarecrows and building memories.”

I had to rearrange the people and the scarecrows to fit them all into the frame, as you can see from the photos. This one was difficult.
The previous drawings are here,  http://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2016/09/no-338-travis-andy-and-deeanna-four.html
and here, http://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2011/08/kids-are-alright.html

No. 386, Mark Beachy and "The Contraption," October 2017. Charlene Monsanty

Another difficult piece in 2017 is this exercise in photo restoration that I call “The Contraption.”
Some 50 years ago, an enterprising little fellow somehow hefted a lawnmower onto a wagon, roped it down, and took it for a spin. The photo was old, fuzzy and washed out; his face was cut off on the right side.

I used my imagination to finish it off.  I hear that the little big guy was moved to tears by this on Christmas day.

Check out Edsel, a Great Dane puppy with perhaps the greatest dog name ever. Pretty soon he will be as big as the couch.  For now he is just happy with the pillows.

No. 392, "Edsel,"  November 2017. Emmalee Torisk

This one goes to a family that has had a few Danes in the past.  Who doesn’t love dogs?

"Sammy," November 2017, Angie Jackson (Venetia Hixenbaugh Moore)

Speaking of lovable:
Here is Sammy, a memorial picture.  We tried to find a playful pose and we chose the ball picture from several possibilities. We miss our little friends forever. Sometimes I can help people live with their loss.
Surprise, Angie! This one is coming after the holidays but your girl Venetia said it was OK to show you.

No. 391, "The Quintet" November 2017.  Denise Dick

For those who want more than one: Five.
This crew of rescues is Rawlie, George, Rebel, Boots and Gracie. Also done during my holiday run, this picture is, I assume and hope, a friend’s birthday/Christmas gift to herself. So we tried to make it very special. She got it a little early.
Adorable.

No. 396, "Sheila Rose," December 2017, Nika

This portrait will be delivered after New Year's but it's not a secret.  It's just that there needs to be some time to emotionally prepare the family for its arrival.
Sheila Rose had just turned 50 when the photo upon which this drawing is based was taken. And not being one to like photos of herself, I'm told this pose actually was a favorite.
Sadly she died two months later, and no one had seen that coming. Her daughter, who commissioned the drawing, told me there is a deeper meaning here: You never know about time, so make the most of those around you and hold them tightly.

No. 394, "Pretty In Ink," December 2017, Emily Wills from yo' daddy

Here’s Pretty in Ink, a holiday/birthday gift to my daughter Emily, who opened her tattoo business in November. I’m proud to have a piece of my art hanging in her art space.
She worked extra hard to get herself established and I urge you to visit her on North River Road in Howland. Her stuff will blow your mind.

No. 379, "Hiwatt" in progress, two days before Christmas.

Practice makes perfect, they say, so when I had a little time over Christmas vacation I decided to draw a favorite photo of Pete Townshend rehearsing in front of his beloved Hiwatt amplifier. It's a rarity among my works, because there is no face shown. Instead the details are in the body and the equipment -- man and machine, getting in tune.

I’d like to once again thank my customers, and all of you who visit my page on occasion to see what’s new. I hope that your holidays are bright and that your new year is full of promise.

For all of your portrait and painting needs: willstom01@gmail.com 

Draw it, write about it, share it.

No. 395: Losing A Brother

Gregg Allman by Tom Wills, pencil/graphite, December 2017

Gregg Allman was this white boy’s introduction to the blues. Such a soulful voice.  Such a graceful touch on the piano.  Such a heavy lean into that Hammond organ.
Off the top of my head, my Top Five are “Ain’t Wasting Time No More.” “Win, Lose or Draw.”  “Whipping Post.” “Queen of Hearts” and “Oncoming Traffic.”

I discovered Gregg Allman long after his brother Duane had died in 1971 in a motorcycle crash. Duane, the more well-known Allman in the early years because of his session work on the guitar, brought his little brother into the band because he needed his words and his soulfulness.
"My brother, Duane, could not sing," Gregg told the Chicago Sun-Times in 2013. "He said, 'You have to learn to do something.' So I started to sing.”

But I never thought that the sum was greater than its parts. In fact I think Gregg’s solo work holds up better than a lot of the Brothers’ stuff. It just scratches the itch deeper, for me.
I was sitting on the front porch sipping a beer this summer when word came that Gregg had died. He was 69 and had been the only living brother for 46 years.
A lot of the idiot broadcasters chose the Allman Brothers’ hit “Ramblin’ Man” to eulogize him — a song written by the guitarist Dickey Betts, whom the band had fired in 2000.

Of course all of the stories mentioned his demons after applauding his music: alcohol, drugs, Hepatitis C, liver transplant. It was cancer in that new liver that got him.
A life lived hard, for sure, lending authenticity to those lyrics.

Still, I did not rush into the house to play Allman music. I never do, when my heroes die.  It’s too soon, and it just makes me feel old.
But I knew that eventually I would draw him, as I had done many other stellar performers in music and stage who have gone to their next venue.

I played a little music as this drawing emerged, but mostly I watched online and replayed an instructive Big Interview with Dan Rather from 2015. Gregg uncorks a gorgeous reading of “Oncoming Traffic” on his home piano and seems at peace with himself, having beaten his many demons, especially the cigarettes.

"Tell me when, when is my ship gonna come in
I ain't cold, I ain't hungry, gotta little money to spend
But a man cannot live oh no, on riches alone
He needs love, friendship and a home
Without these he stands alone, oh" *

He was a boy who grew up in Daytona Beach without a father, who was killed by a hitchhiker when Allman was 2. He taught his famous older brother how to play guitar. Their mother died  in 2015 at 98, after that Rather interview.

I could have drawn Gregg Allman in his prime, with that gorgeous straight blond hair that every interviewer sought to touch, with that flashy smile and rail thin body. But instead I drew him from a video still culled from that Rather interview, when he seemed to know time was tight yet chose not to wallow in the sadnesses of his living.
It was a difficult drawing -- there's still a lot of hair, and the face shows its years.
I chose an antique frame with just enough flourish and dignity to befit a Southern musician.

"There's a great comfort in the music itself … It helps get you through the darkest times. I hope on my death bed that I'm learning a new chord or writing a new song,” Allman told The Los Angeles Times — 30 years ago.

* Janice B. Allman, Gregg L. Allman / Unichappell Music Inc., Elijah Blue Music  (Janice was the second of his six wives - she married him in 1973 and they divorced in 1975.)

This illustration is available for purchase. Contact willstom01@gmail.com

No. 394: Pretty In Ink

No. 394: "Pretty In Ink" Emily Wills by Tom Wills

One evening, about three years ago, I dared to enter my youngest daughter's room and spied upon her looking at skin art on her PC. She had a minty Kent State University art history degree in hand but really wasn't contemplating life in a library.

"I think I'm gonna tattoo people," she pronounced.
So she learned, studied, apprenticed -- and now she does. Her Facebook page says, simply: "I tattoo people."
Hundreds of people, approaching thousands.

What's a dad to do?
She had certainly heard me talk over the years about my need to somehow spend more time behind the drawing pad or paint kit, while keeping my busy day and night newspaper job.
I thought: "Who am I to stand in the way of her dream?"

This year, Emily Wills made another pronouncement: "I think I'm gonna start my own business."
So she pounded the pavement, procured the permits, had the hearings, and is doing it.

Pretty In Ink Tattoos LLC opened in November 2017 at 4248 North River Road NE in Howland Township, near Warren, Ohio. Her work number is (330) 469-5017. It's in the center of a cool little plaza with a cake bakery on one side, a gym on the other and a bistro in the back.  You can find Pretty In Ink Tattoos on Facebook, and a web site is forthcoming.

The business is set up with cozy furniture, cool woodwork and neat art and artifacts on the wall. A couple of my friends had suggested displaying my art inside of the shop, but it's not my place.  It's Emily's space, and it's her art and design.  But I didn't think she'd mind having one of mine -- of her.

So I drew No. 394, "Pretty In Ink," and put it inside of a handmade, hammered metal-painted frame. I knew that it would match the shop decor, and when I delivered it we hung it together.

So now our art has had a slight merger. If people ask, yeah, her dad did it, and you know where to find me.
And now, you know how to find her.