tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22339484826254240892024-03-18T21:02:26.488-07:00TOM WILLS PRODUCTIONSORIGINAL ART SINCE 2008Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.comBlogger253125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-39726077659729169162023-08-20T09:00:00.000-07:002023-08-20T09:00:22.704-07:00No Mayhem<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4coaP3izJqv0RbMgnQqgmkypjLUo8w5KaU1Cd4mspCzIW-APwqZfOknL1OOg9H8nfj_y3kXH_5f8Y2Jf4VgIPbd4BukZ1i2lvMVCzrQ1NmKmIhFwutJycokLX0ELGxRCilxCBoqJrmdTA6qQ9A19WRXqUA0PBZBz1SS73UEIERIwMkHO3VCgpbP0U-sS/s2015/IMG_0480.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1324" data-original-width="2015" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN4coaP3izJqv0RbMgnQqgmkypjLUo8w5KaU1Cd4mspCzIW-APwqZfOknL1OOg9H8nfj_y3kXH_5f8Y2Jf4VgIPbd4BukZ1i2lvMVCzrQ1NmKmIhFwutJycokLX0ELGxRCilxCBoqJrmdTA6qQ9A19WRXqUA0PBZBz1SS73UEIERIwMkHO3VCgpbP0U-sS/s600/IMG_0480.jpg"/></a></div>
Early on in my journalism career, I was told by upper management types that I am not a photogapher. My car wreck photos, house fire pics and other mayhem art never saw ink (in those days, we used more ink.) So I resigned myself to being a writer (even more ink, all black).
Some 40 years later it finally dawned on me that news photography just isn't my thing. I don't need more mayhem in my life.
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But I've always looked around. That comes from years in journalism, too -- being observant, taking stock of things, keeping only what's necessary to tell the tale.
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Now I'm done with drama, or about to be, and looking to calm down. Sold the house, moved to the almost-country, almost-city. I walk county roads now, rather than city streets, and there is more air in my surroundings -- far less on-top-of-everybody. Things here are mostly quiet and people wave but don't really pester.
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padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqz_P9UAG1qHMva-EMWHXwMMi3ubxDAFN_OOCRCQ0FIzDuNwJhyPR8BlvQmL82K6liMpIJK0nmXMxD5ya6tTgu6IlqM2J9D5_7M3pXq9Z_9SnuzJlK8dNmlvcHmVv4DYuozE9FO7wDmuz_o84JouErn-JwBFoOCN9wKIBF3Y0hO7TBlbtUJuZs_xrIiBKT/s600/IMG_0484.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcR9xf693sQRrC--keXxpRdx7j_8yp3CD2GPkdUccukjp_QWMi0maDWBnualiGz252O1eRTnr2DwCUYQnoGgtI9R23R4UUMyI7cmIRpya-OP5I_EHSITzKlDZPdWEfTCkHUCRQFia_6gL-TuMq7B162NwYO70-jnMTyY1YXUGt-qLW3-nhFPHqVA3ldLp/s1681/IMG_0503.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1681" data-original-width="1302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgcR9xf693sQRrC--keXxpRdx7j_8yp3CD2GPkdUccukjp_QWMi0maDWBnualiGz252O1eRTnr2DwCUYQnoGgtI9R23R4UUMyI7cmIRpya-OP5I_EHSITzKlDZPdWEfTCkHUCRQFia_6gL-TuMq7B162NwYO70-jnMTyY1YXUGt-qLW3-nhFPHqVA3ldLp/s600/IMG_0503.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZcVDGcPVItdELWrxFhg0HtmTYbJ9_JaneeYaXOeY0k2P84IqdsOPz5wzjSWUUIMJkuY39SOWrIBRjtdfSVJ1n3l7ek7qIYndd7wZQwyhIFFwJIeTKjmJXxy81UPZfgr2VRvL9h2qBhWrl8SuMjxBPDcksc6gWWRks0Kssu4hkaHVBUcKcfjLZrLUW9PF/s2016/IMG_0505.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZcVDGcPVItdELWrxFhg0HtmTYbJ9_JaneeYaXOeY0k2P84IqdsOPz5wzjSWUUIMJkuY39SOWrIBRjtdfSVJ1n3l7ek7qIYndd7wZQwyhIFFwJIeTKjmJXxy81UPZfgr2VRvL9h2qBhWrl8SuMjxBPDcksc6gWWRks0Kssu4hkaHVBUcKcfjLZrLUW9PF/s600/IMG_0505.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmZ9RNt9t1ry8HikCYUZ1JpIGf5zhiloT0U7Ck0CqQx8GCE8X9mNB9_EC2Gz7ox_AT7ITt9Bi4UaahqF24pXgBqPdf4r8Efp1qO2eX6v8tjd_LZIiz9vg6vc23uX6DZBMwxy94if7fH-rbK20uFzJXKCrl_LrfeUMuSGFpCRyXya311sWHWHa6W1gMQL_/s1877/IMG_0509.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1877" data-original-width="1408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXmZ9RNt9t1ry8HikCYUZ1JpIGf5zhiloT0U7Ck0CqQx8GCE8X9mNB9_EC2Gz7ox_AT7ITt9Bi4UaahqF24pXgBqPdf4r8Efp1qO2eX6v8tjd_LZIiz9vg6vc23uX6DZBMwxy94if7fH-rbK20uFzJXKCrl_LrfeUMuSGFpCRyXya311sWHWHa6W1gMQL_/s600/IMG_0509.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizp7balmMuvyif8jSzYeqSAm4A3iGIWoBUALwe8zNVoonW2YySGrWaNabopc2fsRKTF4NgxCVXeOTzOV1GjB-I0a2HI4nclFDN-l5C97Ii8jbb7ReXSwUrNZqknZQvAu2kCFb7MVcF-ZnQzeKZJSgSfxiu3Og0EECNO6v2NY0cn8nf0EFfRI_ghub1uiJ6/s2016/IMG_0524.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizp7balmMuvyif8jSzYeqSAm4A3iGIWoBUALwe8zNVoonW2YySGrWaNabopc2fsRKTF4NgxCVXeOTzOV1GjB-I0a2HI4nclFDN-l5C97Ii8jbb7ReXSwUrNZqknZQvAu2kCFb7MVcF-ZnQzeKZJSgSfxiu3Og0EECNO6v2NY0cn8nf0EFfRI_ghub1uiJ6/s600/IMG_0524.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ud-fC98DD6LDetSbqv1P85KwUSc9XTyJDkhG-8xmpldWd3PqlA8qOaP7RC4oL5sIAGQo1H5ZxEFQCZvrhODB77gEVWWevxuGA6euc56CT1h0_Ky7XUR7tfTgUKh35IOZ38DAePWEqzGCuQwCYIMRygtahJl7JA17wKnkAYbioSpVfkbZBfKWt8g1OnbW/s1943/IMG_0547.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1943" data-original-width="1457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ud-fC98DD6LDetSbqv1P85KwUSc9XTyJDkhG-8xmpldWd3PqlA8qOaP7RC4oL5sIAGQo1H5ZxEFQCZvrhODB77gEVWWevxuGA6euc56CT1h0_Ky7XUR7tfTgUKh35IOZ38DAePWEqzGCuQwCYIMRygtahJl7JA17wKnkAYbioSpVfkbZBfKWt8g1OnbW/s600/IMG_0547.jpg"/></a></div>
So I go on little adventures, both physical and in my mind, as I roam where I like. I find things, bring some home, hide a few, and go out again the next day. Mostly, though, I look around and really appreciate what I'm not forced to view. And, I take a lot of pictures.
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padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="950" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZxX_gdPtelKhQRKkGBnm2tGXIZN5D3HnaS1blD9_2p5kKVWdziZgTJcEbwtsSWoeFPQxxqAHUGQ4D8nflBdwCi1rG3Pa5EUk5Jc5h9mWHnvdnhdSYs8Ym4M4dIXVQ-dh5OIWDNVaDjeOWwP24qR430w4ZoWEXIWLv33DhapBpi-ShmFYWlvT4X3Mn-zy/s600/IMG_3807.JPG"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn07UKlSKmKT2GMCOpMbx2jelUqzBnTob-Jpoy5eDaofWWmoX0-JGEBPooMtMP5Zc2FrSrAHkErgnzFznrYQy6OG5wa960O0ErqzLbpd8YLNAugDSez3WzI1s6mOXpRLwcJv2CYnQodBSF05nhvDWnIls1y19IleG2lWRw7DOPz75KlCYZazBQe3QFi0HW/s1512/IMG_4160.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1363" data-original-width="1512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn07UKlSKmKT2GMCOpMbx2jelUqzBnTob-Jpoy5eDaofWWmoX0-JGEBPooMtMP5Zc2FrSrAHkErgnzFznrYQy6OG5wa960O0ErqzLbpd8YLNAugDSez3WzI1s6mOXpRLwcJv2CYnQodBSF05nhvDWnIls1y19IleG2lWRw7DOPz75KlCYZazBQe3QFi0HW/s600/IMG_4160.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKV9aE57XFzysbpt_Sg_p2pQ2qwWIH3mdcjtoEKc_ZJ7TJ3u76Rt-NYXuWKRxsEwKN6I-6c8p5uqx4P0ATW-8Elf5jBSc23wAD43F7gK93j-j0DdgOgZXY7HK_zYnxJUWr6HyBNPZgEQajIzGMAyj3HjXwyX3TdSoTMCYsyL8oDtfMnhE0I_lcqn8trki1/s2016/IMG_5264.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKV9aE57XFzysbpt_Sg_p2pQ2qwWIH3mdcjtoEKc_ZJ7TJ3u76Rt-NYXuWKRxsEwKN6I-6c8p5uqx4P0ATW-8Elf5jBSc23wAD43F7gK93j-j0DdgOgZXY7HK_zYnxJUWr6HyBNPZgEQajIzGMAyj3HjXwyX3TdSoTMCYsyL8oDtfMnhE0I_lcqn8trki1/s600/IMG_5264.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6WfwU-2cvDoqdoiWJoRHiQTL_9Q-n904L_jqkgnUoIKhAI8XsXygjyBldqUYxCmXvtf8TJyWLhr7FqgRl-AsTc0rfXCCj8ueOqnhw77bQhUhK-lAxdXY4d5iZgaEOGnpWfW2NG2vNqrB7xHmmK8JyhtSHngVB_ARAse13lhs0lFD1-Ll0Vw4sqOxCqe8/s2016/IMG_6060.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6WfwU-2cvDoqdoiWJoRHiQTL_9Q-n904L_jqkgnUoIKhAI8XsXygjyBldqUYxCmXvtf8TJyWLhr7FqgRl-AsTc0rfXCCj8ueOqnhw77bQhUhK-lAxdXY4d5iZgaEOGnpWfW2NG2vNqrB7xHmmK8JyhtSHngVB_ARAse13lhs0lFD1-Ll0Vw4sqOxCqe8/s600/IMG_6060.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vPM0cCO63MkCvlcN4k78Mbwnvb71t8NIMRy96n30SGj4_8L-cbEyt1BLYQoE0fmOnpTzfYELoV19Dnxg_1swtoGxMCH_RIA0hRELbNZ2sKFSqIM0I4egV5vIFRvm9X__ZgciWMHV8tBxHZ8UrQvUHhm_03yapNAD5i6S8Ji4DxJGhrSI00Fx7woE-uVx/s2016/IMG_7721.jpg" style="display: block; 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"Pretty" is not a manly word, I'm told, but I use it a lot here, now that I know what to look for -- and what to bring back.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnejllkDj01ALZjJe_wmjFjKVSRQzC02P-VN5U_2f1x7X79jUS9QwTLqUS8XDH2p1JJJ8spnzmw2Hn2tYuLDkm7IQxUIj8g_0ZXLHaZmlR4ZRTvF9-g1q2wnkstX-lN8mgvJHcPtPzDjCtg0GCgNLi2Bc3ikWB_zqkMc_05YyPSdfhOnAML9bH1qtEuJfI/s2016/IMG_0146.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnejllkDj01ALZjJe_wmjFjKVSRQzC02P-VN5U_2f1x7X79jUS9QwTLqUS8XDH2p1JJJ8spnzmw2Hn2tYuLDkm7IQxUIj8g_0ZXLHaZmlR4ZRTvF9-g1q2wnkstX-lN8mgvJHcPtPzDjCtg0GCgNLi2Bc3ikWB_zqkMc_05YyPSdfhOnAML9bH1qtEuJfI/s600/IMG_0146.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XGYN7gsttX5FSiEsSMXPyYHgZ3ZiNjPaYhYzoutVpewGnObAXlJVrPx0sqG2UBB2dPFDqAW4sEi2_K7xN0Te8pTYfLGBdfc5YflVx1y3ena_oBwG1ztQOrDNxdj7ng76zlRJ6pem4uf2blUT4oYvgHBxlA_UtEgOwbMcoG4DM64YD5AF0DclWsp25jY_/s820/IMG_0424.jpg" style="display: block; 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padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkC50TTcHli5sh3qv9LkGOvZCarf3hikMgg6Y8atVfSaO0ahTfpyKJQtQnHvVOSIKUrg-q-eF2Ck44tzrtcb5xnY9OGhcrXHnjD2aRop7jMgRa18xPrEAhRuP3Zo7Ice9d59s5y0LY49V__wtCZN6GqGK8m8LH9ClNBUfcjYszJodHIjpRbV1p0yW8N4nO/s600/IMG_8631.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5LJ09GDFNBoe5zn5U4PLrXEOghPAsAFYKHVhP7_ONqnPgmKK5e-mIvfXcSEjS9grilDJQEoEG98951ukYAiKKgwDQ5tHeMTyjSwXBmWoYVZl5g7nNGo4x-vUNistJ1z74xaqCRAcLHgwoGN9dKfKSrZ5OIbJCURp14fK_Tf12EU8jQh7PHsvlfjx_fZb/s1454/IMG_9598.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1441" data-original-width="1454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf5LJ09GDFNBoe5zn5U4PLrXEOghPAsAFYKHVhP7_ONqnPgmKK5e-mIvfXcSEjS9grilDJQEoEG98951ukYAiKKgwDQ5tHeMTyjSwXBmWoYVZl5g7nNGo4x-vUNistJ1z74xaqCRAcLHgwoGN9dKfKSrZ5OIbJCURp14fK_Tf12EU8jQh7PHsvlfjx_fZb/s600/IMG_9598.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1iGMiFfSnKJ78hhqKah7GTA4iS1bn5Uvu5b58jc0LD0vj634jlA-wC-agJrMINvmogoWvFlVyuqsm9-MNhYTJSbuO0ggXx3vC4eedemaYe3Dqk9fnDFdgPKAWLjohEw6v_PLpb3YbIX5TqVQq9Y1PZkPE7Z2KYKR8GbsrWWHMG6asQzlezbSjBcVJM9Vk/s1414/IMG_9601.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1332" data-original-width="1414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1iGMiFfSnKJ78hhqKah7GTA4iS1bn5Uvu5b58jc0LD0vj634jlA-wC-agJrMINvmogoWvFlVyuqsm9-MNhYTJSbuO0ggXx3vC4eedemaYe3Dqk9fnDFdgPKAWLjohEw6v_PLpb3YbIX5TqVQq9Y1PZkPE7Z2KYKR8GbsrWWHMG6asQzlezbSjBcVJM9Vk/s600/IMG_9601.jpg"/></a></div>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-38640116365335482712022-06-25T07:04:00.001-07:002022-06-25T07:04:48.445-07:00No. 489: You Must Believe In Spring<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJ_aB8AJow4Xgq0uHBeGJoAPcx14VMPB1XrZQ4EOfQj7zeixb18ySvAKTPbb8cQsYjOpO3XIowUFewH5SWMUZJD9siOD9Zp--iOSoXGG-SNsqnsqAo93jqumsEkZq6mIK_gUK7xRbkcwpWrI5Ghbtu2VCzMe6let84F5YsO0mgQKGVCsA1dKK-L7SaA/s1761/IMG_6581.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1177" data-original-width="1761" height="429" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJ_aB8AJow4Xgq0uHBeGJoAPcx14VMPB1XrZQ4EOfQj7zeixb18ySvAKTPbb8cQsYjOpO3XIowUFewH5SWMUZJD9siOD9Zp--iOSoXGG-SNsqnsqAo93jqumsEkZq6mIK_gUK7xRbkcwpWrI5Ghbtu2VCzMe6let84F5YsO0mgQKGVCsA1dKK-L7SaA/w640-h429/IMG_6581.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting in the grass, June 2022.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>He watched me from the living room and tilted his head in that German Shepherd way as I sat in the dining room and made the vet appointment.</p><p>He knew. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4oIWr6OnqYQiwQbTcRFeIQdPAYOIO_eRG96PiyDwdPs_NiptTgy_wtriSlPHBkNO0QJb5aMHvw2ZGlB7M3zqIn2JT39-YMpAME7-qolye_zgXg425LsYUe18R3ktJu742mOnWQ8w4g-BIcqzo0RHnnQnX57WKAspcRc2nK74aJqV6c2fHhf7MLUlFsg/s2016/IMG_2203.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4oIWr6OnqYQiwQbTcRFeIQdPAYOIO_eRG96PiyDwdPs_NiptTgy_wtriSlPHBkNO0QJb5aMHvw2ZGlB7M3zqIn2JT39-YMpAME7-qolye_zgXg425LsYUe18R3ktJu742mOnWQ8w4g-BIcqzo0RHnnQnX57WKAspcRc2nK74aJqV6c2fHhf7MLUlFsg/w480-h640/IMG_2203.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pandemic shag in 2021. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>He also knew that we lied when we said we were just going for a ride in the car, even though he needed lifted into the vehicle </p><p>But when we told Corleone that we loved him, that was the truth – and he knew that for sure. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5EP3Xxmdn3birE9H08rYKboII06oJe3hX0a1Tvp5ZEQm_uukKU27X0q2Ud3WViJHJHrWc9DnQnVS1MMXnvEEbZnrFFv8p5Ll387gNQqgTQlAf4ZG7x3v7dybrrGPPHHPnE6pYSnnl7Gob8AfNdgggBK_LM9uT1C2IpAJ7yxsXrOwE2nM8cwyBwzo7g/s620/IMG_4966.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="620" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5EP3Xxmdn3birE9H08rYKboII06oJe3hX0a1Tvp5ZEQm_uukKU27X0q2Ud3WViJHJHrWc9DnQnVS1MMXnvEEbZnrFFv8p5Ll387gNQqgTQlAf4ZG7x3v7dybrrGPPHHPnE6pYSnnl7Gob8AfNdgggBK_LM9uT1C2IpAJ7yxsXrOwE2nM8cwyBwzo7g/w640-h474/IMG_4966.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A wonderful gift from my daughters. Eventually he grew into those feet. I called them "clubs."<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Son Pup is gone, having lived three years longer than most of the breed. He went easily and perhaps willingly.
He took to sleeping on the floor, and didn't move much – stumbling from atrophy and too many painkillers. He breathed hard and had a fist-sized, hard nugget on his side. His hip bones stuck out.<br /></p><p>It just wasn't fun any more, and he knew that too. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYJbx1RAwW3tzki1jZDlJAPxn7BkmKRuWWKNGqub3kimA7-BQ038AnLQgACWzwi5Vph9hjYCIRDcy_QG2dlQXTXxcHo7KDmZQeGI0oBCw3tlKjRHRhfFlsciTtvMQ7BHlz-NKgVPRhjzoc5DtAOayLaDbufoGg5xnf9Hv1E09md8DEIvJaGRmRoGQmQ/s2016/IMG_6060.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYJbx1RAwW3tzki1jZDlJAPxn7BkmKRuWWKNGqub3kimA7-BQ038AnLQgACWzwi5Vph9hjYCIRDcy_QG2dlQXTXxcHo7KDmZQeGI0oBCw3tlKjRHRhfFlsciTtvMQ7BHlz-NKgVPRhjzoc5DtAOayLaDbufoGg5xnf9Hv1E09md8DEIvJaGRmRoGQmQ/w640-h480/IMG_6060.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spring 2022, when everything was new but puzzling.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>I finished this painting, “You Must Believe in Spring,” two weeks before. He gave it a sniff and his wet nose blurred the watercolor grass. He saw me hang it in the living room a week ago. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlH9Nh4uD1PZTW9QeYJrX1O0gNVmLwTpx1P7VAZmWm-zun04hqDNKG8SJD7l3ommz4FqjaqwWs8fl9CIfxKR_zHh_gqAAqR-XgYztXjChBFz-gey2D5iIV9PXfri0MCk9GLc721sOu9yspShHWvW_IdpJpvQOqJdTsXLm0zeIYKWGoXCgeCJYJg_2-7w/s1878/IMG_6595.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1430" data-original-width="1878" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlH9Nh4uD1PZTW9QeYJrX1O0gNVmLwTpx1P7VAZmWm-zun04hqDNKG8SJD7l3ommz4FqjaqwWs8fl9CIfxKR_zHh_gqAAqR-XgYztXjChBFz-gey2D5iIV9PXfri0MCk9GLc721sOu9yspShHWvW_IdpJpvQOqJdTsXLm0zeIYKWGoXCgeCJYJg_2-7w/w640-h488/IMG_6595.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the first painting that I've been able to do in the condo.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Corly never was supposed to come here. He was supposed to go first, But we lost his sister Bella to oral cancer eight months earlier.
Suddenly Corly was in a one-dog household for the first time, and after selling our house of 20 years, found himself in a small condo with a pond in the backyard. </p><p>The changes helped to do him in. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDS4cmSGyr3iCYhJUk2tkQw5HG0foOv1F34YGp2x79abC4h9Nz0kyalWymjPLCYsYnELs1lkd02xSiH4dhGeOjObJUETNnj4AVmjxwCTYJ15bSezvgfk9XG2ydZbC-KrU4orGBhacGRHjdGeWe4ybBaoto24m1LiN7IH2sXrWK6DoUZUZGgJzp5QRtsQ/s1881/IMG_5109.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1292" data-original-width="1881" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDS4cmSGyr3iCYhJUk2tkQw5HG0foOv1F34YGp2x79abC4h9Nz0kyalWymjPLCYsYnELs1lkd02xSiH4dhGeOjObJUETNnj4AVmjxwCTYJ15bSezvgfk9XG2ydZbC-KrU4orGBhacGRHjdGeWe4ybBaoto24m1LiN7IH2sXrWK6DoUZUZGgJzp5QRtsQ/w640-h440/IMG_5109.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When dogs themselves become furniture.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>The move happened in January. He watched that pond freeze, and heard it groan as it thawed. “Where am I?” he surely thought. </p><p>Slowly he watched the snow give way to grass, and the grays and browns burst into greens and yellows. Eventually he heard frogs, and splashing fish, and then birds. He saw an opossum, a groundhog and three slinking kitties. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6F0tH1WtK6p-Kz4zVkU0IssdhJD8w6Ur86KPSBIIpYKLn4h1sePjHHHDVEHAr5wR1xF83KUeBAsy_XmQNwrjFD6SW36Re0cPmUvn11OACpPkFjFDdonewZ2t9QShF1Dl35DgxGnzKu0AgnBSCHr9XlpvYdd5OIbGKlA_F-6NbvfMccDNqIpvuBBLd-g/s1404/IMG_6469.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1404" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6F0tH1WtK6p-Kz4zVkU0IssdhJD8w6Ur86KPSBIIpYKLn4h1sePjHHHDVEHAr5wR1xF83KUeBAsy_XmQNwrjFD6SW36Re0cPmUvn11OACpPkFjFDdonewZ2t9QShF1Dl35DgxGnzKu0AgnBSCHr9XlpvYdd5OIbGKlA_F-6NbvfMccDNqIpvuBBLd-g/w640-h558/IMG_6469.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He still mustered the power to snap this harness two weeks ago when he tried to get a squirrel.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>When it got really hot, he would just go out on his run and lay down in the grass. Maybe the heat helped his bones, or perhaps the grass just felt cool and comfy.
His hair fell out by the handfuls. Even the neighbors mentioned the hair trails across the grass.</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwmqWqoAKKlGCvFAlSYTUnxzqN20Ie-nuWjHLReYBh-14ZGICj6_VhyCOQOCcWJfeRa4lardnL8xQDu0HTHAVGH-J4dE3ZqhtF_TlQZFdA4zaohtKikgd3lKwfrZK5EBB6If9t5xt7MJvoEodr_mFgsedjarltxR0S1KQt1fTM6q1pZ6vZ3AYhEWoLg/s625/son.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="625" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzwmqWqoAKKlGCvFAlSYTUnxzqN20Ie-nuWjHLReYBh-14ZGICj6_VhyCOQOCcWJfeRa4lardnL8xQDu0HTHAVGH-J4dE3ZqhtF_TlQZFdA4zaohtKikgd3lKwfrZK5EBB6If9t5xt7MJvoEodr_mFgsedjarltxR0S1KQt1fTM6q1pZ6vZ3AYhEWoLg/w640-h612/son.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I shall dream forever of my beautiful boy.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>He would still take my breath away, the Cadillac of dogs.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAOeT4UvRTQEklqhoheAnJhxd8u_rAXs1z69s9ycwApF0Y6P_g1qlfpAfxgmpPtazcd51bQZy0dQ0PWy7adesTiceLGwHfo-BFUZQZVEZRYEztJZpgxEWJgzgYUMtrXXWxE7CkgJWx40eMPfgSxEQOkAX6AHBdfCw3SSENF8L90LjXQ4wabxooOym5Q/s1435/IMG_6556.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1369" data-original-width="1435" height="610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAOeT4UvRTQEklqhoheAnJhxd8u_rAXs1z69s9ycwApF0Y6P_g1qlfpAfxgmpPtazcd51bQZy0dQ0PWy7adesTiceLGwHfo-BFUZQZVEZRYEztJZpgxEWJgzgYUMtrXXWxE7CkgJWx40eMPfgSxEQOkAX6AHBdfCw3SSENF8L90LjXQ4wabxooOym5Q/w640-h610/IMG_6556.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nose smudge. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>The reality of having a dog is so good that we have to fantasize to comfort ourselves at the end. </p><p>For example, I don't believe in that Rainbow Bridge tale, beautiful and comforting as it is. We domesticated dogs and then created our own fairy tales around them. </p><p>They die. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgBn-7spHDgCRUsRUsokeeas_A5XEfU4oxniv_FjBjPnTcF1tGdF7JXVSPFlV3t4ngyTY-L7UvijmUGU0vDf5qjWjC9RhQAPnqdbZ7ZcQUViobKzZI4o_G7nkIFLQD-jhkseTu_6DG_XjzeTnTd5TPzB1i9Z5wPuYAS_ZeXzvq-Jq13qANimnReGHeA/s2016/IMG_6534.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgBn-7spHDgCRUsRUsokeeas_A5XEfU4oxniv_FjBjPnTcF1tGdF7JXVSPFlV3t4ngyTY-L7UvijmUGU0vDf5qjWjC9RhQAPnqdbZ7ZcQUViobKzZI4o_G7nkIFLQD-jhkseTu_6DG_XjzeTnTd5TPzB1i9Z5wPuYAS_ZeXzvq-Jq13qANimnReGHeA/w480-h640/IMG_6534.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thin and pale, a little blind, though still gorgeous.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>What happens next is beyond human comprehension.
Dogs live their lives among us but we are really never a part of their pack. We can barely communicate with them. We're outsiders, though we are co-dependent. </p><p>They're gone. </p><p>We don't know where, and we can't really answer why. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM01QNOmLb-hjdcbYZe5iPI_7-1jVCE3V1PZVft5NFFoV5HjGs9W87z407UErpxNspIOrBTYgrZA_aGAUGEUjM8p-HhWMuZVkcmB4YBz4-drXkbJr50ax891haHJ2S7ux33qySDGMAePmfLXGozITl4Qi_oLCV9a6bB7H4ryP_7vI4TgH1VZ9MfnGwlA/s2016/IMG_3625.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM01QNOmLb-hjdcbYZe5iPI_7-1jVCE3V1PZVft5NFFoV5HjGs9W87z407UErpxNspIOrBTYgrZA_aGAUGEUjM8p-HhWMuZVkcmB4YBz4-drXkbJr50ax891haHJ2S7ux33qySDGMAePmfLXGozITl4Qi_oLCV9a6bB7H4ryP_7vI4TgH1VZ9MfnGwlA/w480-h640/IMG_3625.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Together again. Say hi to Bip from all of us.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Maybe their lives are short so that people might get the message to not waste their own lives, that time is precious. There has to be more to it than ashes in a box on some shelf. </p><p></p><p>But we just don't know. </p><p>All we know is how sick we feel, how drained we are -- at least for a while. <br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RoCcvfFfceO2FIMJct7mfw6_gNBam_w3pbCRswh9GaA-ADSbONc8nX_Y--Aggb0mAjEI-SwkeztJ1hF7t--60aExddx9OO9gW4q1PQprGqCtwFgGFp_iXGKvJyduPYqGF2jDG0fyeZLlswOFbaCrnnJTgMdElI5I1amDXxniATFLCa7qVaPUqT2CwA/s2016/IMG_6604.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RoCcvfFfceO2FIMJct7mfw6_gNBam_w3pbCRswh9GaA-ADSbONc8nX_Y--Aggb0mAjEI-SwkeztJ1hF7t--60aExddx9OO9gW4q1PQprGqCtwFgGFp_iXGKvJyduPYqGF2jDG0fyeZLlswOFbaCrnnJTgMdElI5I1amDXxniATFLCa7qVaPUqT2CwA/w640-h480/IMG_6604.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He wasn't a really harsh critic.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Do our pets miss us?
Who knows. Maybe in those fleeting passing moments they do, as they try to say goodbye. That is the worst part.<br /></p><p>Do they blame us?
I don't believe so. <br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNLtjJPYoIJ2vCTJUxunOsdyqiwiVNL2_gOplC0AZwulAtO6KduSFM8JuCXoC9sXe4jo2Ww-sNgraQumtfKwh3fwsQKl-TLk7v17s6x_YOXOvsb4eHsFtg_e2ZmkTq9BkMlLtkNv-n-RAL4lsmkZar7yNk1UtsR45gxxJO9QWUQEpTK6I8-urPVfDCw/s960/IMG_6567.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKNLtjJPYoIJ2vCTJUxunOsdyqiwiVNL2_gOplC0AZwulAtO6KduSFM8JuCXoC9sXe4jo2Ww-sNgraQumtfKwh3fwsQKl-TLk7v17s6x_YOXOvsb4eHsFtg_e2ZmkTq9BkMlLtkNv-n-RAL4lsmkZar7yNk1UtsR45gxxJO9QWUQEpTK6I8-urPVfDCw/w480-h640/IMG_6567.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No more tie-outs.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>I would like to believe that dogs, cats and other innocents go to a protective place.
I would hope for dogs that there is unlimited space. Every treat and toy imaginable. Lots of other dogs that all get along and play in the sun, splash in a pond and then take nice shady snoozes. </p><p>We must believe in spring. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHf5OUGG7wTFCPdj6AdQUhykahqiVV-c-9uSQ4xM0Xmo_r7uEuWd9OyBxSl7Yp4vYYtZzbemlhrOADJrpk21JPvC-MOv9Cn4U8WhY5vpUXL59hPk_PF1bo-Wdzt7oCz081iISN8sHKqq88MAdv1ABhg_DOgCWiIkS0U6rtcaJoUYjm0851Z_t80Vp7g/s960/IMG_6568.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHf5OUGG7wTFCPdj6AdQUhykahqiVV-c-9uSQ4xM0Xmo_r7uEuWd9OyBxSl7Yp4vYYtZzbemlhrOADJrpk21JPvC-MOv9Cn4U8WhY5vpUXL59hPk_PF1bo-Wdzt7oCz081iISN8sHKqq88MAdv1ABhg_DOgCWiIkS0U6rtcaJoUYjm0851Z_t80Vp7g/w640-h480/IMG_6568.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A tattoo by Pretty in Ink from a cartoon I had drawn.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-37998772557049964522022-03-21T17:19:00.001-07:002022-03-21T18:07:25.414-07:00No. 487: Father and Son<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9--uFrFfF_UUCvsEGWzZGg5evkmcKBJJxjY6OSFxV2GGM8h7QEanUXSadsth9cgHdu3FG1a8DjA6LW2UQV51Jr0TwAPt_2GyJJDg3GZqOtpmJEnlNMU4IYczaDnNHXJsyHk1GcV064gHyXmGc_Pmn-mS4e4j9HniQ409vYeUoDUH9sn8hKCdQ7aCl0A=s1625" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1351" data-original-width="1625" height="532" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9--uFrFfF_UUCvsEGWzZGg5evkmcKBJJxjY6OSFxV2GGM8h7QEanUXSadsth9cgHdu3FG1a8DjA6LW2UQV51Jr0TwAPt_2GyJJDg3GZqOtpmJEnlNMU4IYczaDnNHXJsyHk1GcV064gHyXmGc_Pmn-mS4e4j9HniQ409vYeUoDUH9sn8hKCdQ7aCl0A=w640-h532" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">J.K. "Pete" Elliott and Peter J. Elliott, portrait by Tom Wills, 2022, pencil. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's tough to say “no” when a
deputy marshal comes calling. They are very serious fellows and, in
the case of No. 487, “Father and Son,” can be very persistent.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPCR3U-AVxVt9yyAyVJbvva2QXYQn6yGVJgErVrnJrAKIDMm8fE5axq_Xr716disYsAEEeM2IqHOlK0GMNxNFfUZ-p1CeRJ9sktTongJaAg2ebHMFhwil8dZ7Z3ijNK0TkdYi6lz07_8ZeM6X-6GuI3xDYanzMtew8BmG_DoGqD6eqHEHLGUvpu1S-Zw=s1402" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1402" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPCR3U-AVxVt9yyAyVJbvva2QXYQn6yGVJgErVrnJrAKIDMm8fE5axq_Xr716disYsAEEeM2IqHOlK0GMNxNFfUZ-p1CeRJ9sktTongJaAg2ebHMFhwil8dZ7Z3ijNK0TkdYi6lz07_8ZeM6X-6GuI3xDYanzMtew8BmG_DoGqD6eqHEHLGUvpu1S-Zw=w640-h484" width="640" /></a></div>I'd been approached by one of these
lawmen a few years back about doing a portrait of Peter J. Elliott
and his late father, J.K. “Pete” Elliott, both of whom have a history
with the U.S. Marshals Service. But the timing was never right: I was
changing jobs, I was moving out of my house after 20 years, and there
were other life messes. <p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsjGMXrcoIok82umbvTdLdMH6rg6AOjZZQujhBVVlg55G36oHwKfflItyoEBq_3WUpWk5bTXUJJCEbmtzgxf2UPP18q7MFCIBhnPbfJWPzJpmkUQ-CEe8r3B2pW2iOekguuKQgck4NDzhIlh_wkycInpg-o1KGoxCaIRv4v8DtqqGXycD641uFXzYo-w=s726" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="726" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsjGMXrcoIok82umbvTdLdMH6rg6AOjZZQujhBVVlg55G36oHwKfflItyoEBq_3WUpWk5bTXUJJCEbmtzgxf2UPP18q7MFCIBhnPbfJWPzJpmkUQ-CEe8r3B2pW2iOekguuKQgck4NDzhIlh_wkycInpg-o1KGoxCaIRv4v8DtqqGXycD641uFXzYo-w=w640-h484" width="640" /></a></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By January of this year the job thing
was long settled, and the move was over. Really, I had semi-retired
from art: I did a Christmas painting then packed up my supplies, and
left my big drawing table at the old house. Then the marshal man showed up at work.
He had a photo of the Elliotts and handwritten instructions.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I was
caught.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So in late January I set up a portable
drawing desk in a bedroom and spent three weeks on “Father and
Son.”</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG9zHux5zSK6Duov_oDwG4myaOQNjNNu0WzhpDo0e9HrXa_iEOKUwXFVVfiX7NmTgKDffELLtQCfqooF5XF9arE3rEDMg8sHsVGFwzzO-2zxahOI83Xji1BQj_FWwWYcmD3Lof538Gh_228keahgtgXfJPRdMoTn4lywhxmF125ovYW1gsUW27CNPLtg=s2016" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG9zHux5zSK6Duov_oDwG4myaOQNjNNu0WzhpDo0e9HrXa_iEOKUwXFVVfiX7NmTgKDffELLtQCfqooF5XF9arE3rEDMg8sHsVGFwzzO-2zxahOI83Xji1BQj_FWwWYcmD3Lof538Gh_228keahgtgXfJPRdMoTn4lywhxmF125ovYW1gsUW27CNPLtg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /> The drawing is based upon a color print
from a memorial service, and the Elliotts were wearing very dark
suits with certain ceremonial trappings to their attire. I spent a
lot of time magnifying the image to get the lines of the uniforms
correct, as well as all of the folds and creases. That's hard to do
when it's basically black-on-black.<p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRji7TYcZuhdxEUZHb4iPS7rBZXgQ55_gdU7RxI3wrQprTZe6FPnNv3KtzXT58NYPn5S4cCjsfTzAYY2Z8jbPVXMZLwsS-DGw6JeqVAjG9sT_WpBOergkoQxuIGSDegRJ9axrEVjUtPn67h9wd5o76a0u3SOluosjrPX9HmtBIXoRpeD8R2_DbpnVHDA=s2016" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRji7TYcZuhdxEUZHb4iPS7rBZXgQ55_gdU7RxI3wrQprTZe6FPnNv3KtzXT58NYPn5S4cCjsfTzAYY2Z8jbPVXMZLwsS-DGw6JeqVAjG9sT_WpBOergkoQxuIGSDegRJ9axrEVjUtPn67h9wd5o76a0u3SOluosjrPX9HmtBIXoRpeD8R2_DbpnVHDA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I handed the framed work off to my
marshal pal in a parking lot and, after three or four weeks of
stealth, the piece was presented to Peter J. on March 21. Those
involved wish to remain anonymous but word from the inside of the
office is that there were three “wows” and then some discussion
about the drawing details.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Good news for me!</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I have heard of them being called
“Pete” and “Re-Pete” by colleagues – respectfully, of
course.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></strong></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXDrhjkuR1cThJV813ZXJZ_aOSp_gWXoVxOpwd_96fIJcMKbSyZZcxRMboHkoIiHzkzHYJ0scX3lpinAhIuGjt5gtbl49b_-veF-6qU9IzL9f0Gp-3nxPMRsWcmQHDHQpP2s5wbfx-OS_1NFl6_cJrajI9vnAp4boPRlawfSr5qkgqRhaO2qi5Z6tbhQ=s1676" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1676" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXDrhjkuR1cThJV813ZXJZ_aOSp_gWXoVxOpwd_96fIJcMKbSyZZcxRMboHkoIiHzkzHYJ0scX3lpinAhIuGjt5gtbl49b_-veF-6qU9IzL9f0Gp-3nxPMRsWcmQHDHQpP2s5wbfx-OS_1NFl6_cJrajI9vnAp4boPRlawfSr5qkgqRhaO2qi5Z6tbhQ=w640-h550" width="640" /></a></strong></div><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></strong><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></strong><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;">Peter
J. Elliott was appointed in March 2003 by President George W. Bush as
United States Marshal for the Northern District of Ohio after being
unanimously confirmed by the Senate, according to the U.S. Marshals'
own website.</span></strong></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></strong></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfQNxxyTUPUHlIdvYMfde25dWSQKIjl8dQf5QxLP-GY3Twujlvl9AoQNNn7-uUN19EWui7wPNWh4gFt1HQ117oz71_PpJe6G8iMoFuK0Co0sL01uD18W--rzUniPj3pV6biGatZ2nohCMlbw-357n4af-YbC2SZnG4Pf2saVFQUK_Q7XNtrPwt_8CLyg=s2016" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfQNxxyTUPUHlIdvYMfde25dWSQKIjl8dQf5QxLP-GY3Twujlvl9AoQNNn7-uUN19EWui7wPNWh4gFt1HQ117oz71_PpJe6G8iMoFuK0Co0sL01uD18W--rzUniPj3pV6biGatZ2nohCMlbw-357n4af-YbC2SZnG4Pf2saVFQUK_Q7XNtrPwt_8CLyg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></strong></div><strong><br /></strong>He was subsequently retained by
Presidents Barack Obama in 2009 and Donald Trump in 2017. Elliott is
the longest serving United States Marshal in Ohio history. He is
responsible for the management, administration and direction of
operations throughout the district, which consists of the northern 40
counties of the state. Core missions include security and protection
of the United States Courts, prisoner management, criminal
investigations, fugitive apprehension, execution of federal court
orders and other law enforcement activities. <p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />Elliott has created
many programs to increase collaboration between federal, state and
local agencies and to involve the community in making their streets
safer. For example, he created the Northern Ohio Violent Fugitive
Task Force which has arrested more than 50,000 fugitives since its
inception in 2003, and includes more than 125 partner agencies and
more than 350 law enforcement officers. In 2015, he created The Cold
Case Unit that has tracked down and arrested some of the longest
running fugitives in the history of the U.S. Marshals Service. </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdZYd-Blx9DspzXPCfNMmXiW9yUAzNd6WEtsQrTtD0S2zt7cNPw_pmUaWMTvAgD7Bba61alcEG4G0zGKH11eJFnwFrSvo6oQiFKs19UlgSMQinI9vO_Y-SDRfF7y4maFic0kiSz7Bc6TU2tYE3mrK91EyVZe0v9raJXthMSgCYm2GtGeWAYs4pdME7-g=s1634" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1135" data-original-width="1634" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgdZYd-Blx9DspzXPCfNMmXiW9yUAzNd6WEtsQrTtD0S2zt7cNPw_pmUaWMTvAgD7Bba61alcEG4G0zGKH11eJFnwFrSvo6oQiFKs19UlgSMQinI9vO_Y-SDRfF7y4maFic0kiSz7Bc6TU2tYE3mrK91EyVZe0v9raJXthMSgCYm2GtGeWAYs4pdME7-g=w640-h444" width="640" /></a> </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">His dad was a Navy Veteran, retired
Deputy U.S. Marshal and former member of Cleveland Police Pipe and
Drum Band. He died March 20, 2020.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Son Elliott began his career as a local
law enforcement officer working undercover narcotic operations. In
1987, he became a Deputy U.S. Marshal in the Northern District of
Ohio, following in the footsteps of his father. In 1992, he joined
the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms as a special agent
investigating terrorism, firearms and explosive cases, where he
worked until being appointed the U.S. Marshal for the Northern
District of Ohio.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHsU-lxoSezMe8xChTxaaFYAfljAnqeEfUc40rzf-DMgBHcVoSaL0U_t-92FpkllTbmWyIhAoCzU6Z4YlMujZCX8Ghmrn8K-6NLWZeR8pbmidFZgu-MCu1dmDgqSAl9mycUEGEITKGEJtrDwbmmDi3rSOSUvn2J52wKjWQo15eIsebjDAIoKo6GPS_3g=s2016" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHsU-lxoSezMe8xChTxaaFYAfljAnqeEfUc40rzf-DMgBHcVoSaL0U_t-92FpkllTbmWyIhAoCzU6Z4YlMujZCX8Ghmrn8K-6NLWZeR8pbmidFZgu-MCu1dmDgqSAl9mycUEGEITKGEJtrDwbmmDi3rSOSUvn2J52wKjWQo15eIsebjDAIoKo6GPS_3g=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p>
<p> </p>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-85855180795162328872021-09-19T10:40:00.105-07:002021-09-21T04:13:58.403-07:00No. 483: The Word Factory (at Night)<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJvLB7PeYxl9Fr-SB9R9bnbO9isqRsY5D20QiPVqQeK8z22_7xQYkZh3y6gUHL1gtlPwEEx-9Bsu1dtFHhFgAO2CzPl5gsaPmheIMLGAnxvSkcSP5nagLZlFFGMsTOKTQepnpx6JEsYbGE/s1493/IMG_3967.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1493" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJvLB7PeYxl9Fr-SB9R9bnbO9isqRsY5D20QiPVqQeK8z22_7xQYkZh3y6gUHL1gtlPwEEx-9Bsu1dtFHhFgAO2CzPl5gsaPmheIMLGAnxvSkcSP5nagLZlFFGMsTOKTQepnpx6JEsYbGE/w640-h490/IMG_3967.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 483, "The Word Factory (at Night)," watercolor by Tom Wills, September 2021</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: black; color: white; text-align: left;">The rear end of any production building is not usually a pretty place. The back end of a newspaper during the day is populated by returned papers, vehicles with uncertain life spans, birds and moths. All of the landscaping is up front.</span></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhQ02Iw2AxlpE1IKsvae0jBbORXfE1ONcnyvmmJN9r2xmNFbD0abCz4d7UeobSp0gy0PC-iCxZkal5fe5JiSfJuG5iIKuTQ7MZia9T3HjWeGqI6UC_He3xvDYePqOb0aBB_OsrNYTpEHS/s1730/IMG_3946.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1156" data-original-width="1730" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhQ02Iw2AxlpE1IKsvae0jBbORXfE1ONcnyvmmJN9r2xmNFbD0abCz4d7UeobSp0gy0PC-iCxZkal5fe5JiSfJuG5iIKuTQ7MZia9T3HjWeGqI6UC_He3xvDYePqOb0aBB_OsrNYTpEHS/w640-h428/IMG_3946.jpg" width="640" /></span></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">But at night, after the production is done — and under the lights — it can be beautiful, especially after a rain that creates reflections and long shadows.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZOfZdJHCgeaO33FqjGhZvZPynTsbN4_qq8pAp5nR3ZVmtBSdSToR6NfJvdYDuaGZ7naJ8F-gC3FZDHJxLE8z4ywuVJLWPoyASCBTK8uVOnSllwgXxS4HV63yxmymnctFRJU7XBbS0jxD5/s1280/IMG_3962.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1280" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZOfZdJHCgeaO33FqjGhZvZPynTsbN4_qq8pAp5nR3ZVmtBSdSToR6NfJvdYDuaGZ7naJ8F-gC3FZDHJxLE8z4ywuVJLWPoyASCBTK8uVOnSllwgXxS4HV63yxmymnctFRJU7XBbS0jxD5/w640-h422/IMG_3962.jpg" width="640" /></span></a><span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></span><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: black; color: white;">I took a lot of night photos of 240 Franklin St. SE on my way out of the Tribune Chronicle and The Vindicator in Warren, Ohio. Our photographer told me the lights look green because the phone camera captures the part of the color spectrum in motion at that moment. The camera on its own is not smart enough to make the correction; it takes bright people to get it right.</span></span></p><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSZ401Y3otKchZ_bVJiAMSM9Eoh5py6HRrlpgsEBRLukG6rsybPEn1TZuKKnzL7-M5KLkTkJnYTgU9oQQxNa6UtMhNJE_iCs7XmM1VYb-bl-UPcc3CgELfd40q5dPOJtAdoRvJBdPnUo1/s1782/IMG_7428.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1337" data-original-width="1782" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXSZ401Y3otKchZ_bVJiAMSM9Eoh5py6HRrlpgsEBRLukG6rsybPEn1TZuKKnzL7-M5KLkTkJnYTgU9oQQxNa6UtMhNJE_iCs7XmM1VYb-bl-UPcc3CgELfd40q5dPOJtAdoRvJBdPnUo1/w640-h480/IMG_7428.jpg" width="640" /></span></a><br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">A lot of that fixing goes on all day, and through the night, in the wide room upstairs where the lights stay on.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">In that room a small gang of friends builds two newspapers from scratch every day, in a span of 18 hours — from the first pot of coffee in the morning to the last truck out on the next morning.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vbdxJycWkKbGJ_-3X4y5BGtqLAUFp6sQzlNdGusKLD8EmkQahxcG6RL8dLDCbbbF4SksT2JTgAei9h5iyNzPE8JYBJpaD3MemZMKE6SYfBcTvhholBqFN1FvfXQdgjvAXXR0kD_ONGKC/s1914/IMG_3960.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1371" data-original-width="1914" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vbdxJycWkKbGJ_-3X4y5BGtqLAUFp6sQzlNdGusKLD8EmkQahxcG6RL8dLDCbbbF4SksT2JTgAei9h5iyNzPE8JYBJpaD3MemZMKE6SYfBcTvhholBqFN1FvfXQdgjvAXXR0kD_ONGKC/w640-h442/IMG_3960.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;">It’s not an easy job. The older people are getting older while the younger ones are harder to hire, not particularly trained nowadays for print journalism — and they don’t stay too long. It’s a job that requires patience in a time when people have none.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">This painting is for those of us who stay, and we want to hang it in that wide bright room.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EQIeme1sGhxiFDP4w6fx5LUzDPzrPW3_HbxwCIky-csy7wxJK5UMUFbbTjJIaqIPXHi-MNtB6YCPhZpHsp08d8ptLTDdzbZZ-MtrwpiULP7ARb4eViSly_K8KAbf2RHsXfo9qIdS-bzG/s2016/IMG_3860.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EQIeme1sGhxiFDP4w6fx5LUzDPzrPW3_HbxwCIky-csy7wxJK5UMUFbbTjJIaqIPXHi-MNtB6YCPhZpHsp08d8ptLTDdzbZZ-MtrwpiULP7ARb4eViSly_K8KAbf2RHsXfo9qIdS-bzG/w640-h480/IMG_3860.jpg" width="640" /></span></a><span style="color: white;"><span><span style="background-color: black;"><br style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" /></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;">The rear end of a career can get messy too.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">I’ve done this for 38 years, and I’m in my third year here. The original Vindicator in Youngstown closed, unable to figure out these fast times. A few of us transplants are keeping The Vindicator alive upstairs in our foster home.</span></p></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uvit-IB6GJQIlxWsL3MJcrb5szQrJ0P5YGW9sF68qvBxRE2LFmREQIn__Cb3Vq99oXYXWN7Xn-2DNFxBLmXzP5MR6QjQFVmf4sorbL8DDkXERJLZG_bHkCnBKKdKNgMHakaWx61dzFEf/s1544/IMG_8693.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1544" data-original-width="1160" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uvit-IB6GJQIlxWsL3MJcrb5szQrJ0P5YGW9sF68qvBxRE2LFmREQIn__Cb3Vq99oXYXWN7Xn-2DNFxBLmXzP5MR6QjQFVmf4sorbL8DDkXERJLZG_bHkCnBKKdKNgMHakaWx61dzFEf/w480-h640/IMG_8693.jpg" width="480" /></span></a><span><br /></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">We show up every day, or night, and pound through our shifts, with words, pictures and designs to catch your eyes, and we hope your dollars. We manage to populate two web sites and social media too, along with numerous community outreach efforts. <br /></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">We don’t have much time to read blogs or listen to podcasts by academics, out-of-towners and retirees who decry “news deserts” and bloviate about the future of “legitimate journalism,” because we’re busy working it.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Upstairs there's that light that never goes out.</span></p><p></p><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: white;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></p></span><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><div><p></p><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjW-XL2ldafPg-RVH9VMzi4g5YHwCMCSsoGD3b3Vb4A8Yh2qXOVrzTtBA-CuKSTSX9HOaO_DdI7FQ_VAWYHAYR7ZxDSRgtcJjl1CoZ6sIc5pDPZrBlPfhKOZs3fHX6x4b4UuHHPA8kDBQ/s2016/IMG_3850.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjW-XL2ldafPg-RVH9VMzi4g5YHwCMCSsoGD3b3Vb4A8Yh2qXOVrzTtBA-CuKSTSX9HOaO_DdI7FQ_VAWYHAYR7ZxDSRgtcJjl1CoZ6sIc5pDPZrBlPfhKOZs3fHX6x4b4UuHHPA8kDBQ/w640-h480/IMG_3850.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; font-size: large;"><b>About this painting, No. 483, “Word Factory (at Night).”</b></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">This is my first painting since July 2021, but the photo it is mainly based on was taken on March 12, 2020. So I’ve thought about it for a long time — see time rant above. I took a bunch more night and day photos right before getting started.</span></p></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVk2VdvGCC9ilxja0lLZ-JbUFSRFHCCN-UKnC7mEJ4zw9Ok9pcVurBsDDudvfNT_Ua9_oyEA_fiO5BLQHEyrrpUewXCrA5Mkx7b8Jib07d9g3_kziAPQ95DGWfBqpMfGAkzqoNHfxJNk2/s2016/IMG_3861.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVk2VdvGCC9ilxja0lLZ-JbUFSRFHCCN-UKnC7mEJ4zw9Ok9pcVurBsDDudvfNT_Ua9_oyEA_fiO5BLQHEyrrpUewXCrA5Mkx7b8Jib07d9g3_kziAPQ95DGWfBqpMfGAkzqoNHfxJNk2/w640-h480/IMG_3861.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="color: white; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;">Next I </span><span style="background-color: black;">drew a rough sketch and mapped out the field of colors I wanted to use, including that spectral green (and lime, yellow, pink, red, orange, brown, blue and black.)</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div></span><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sxOVN45TuNN5hFMsveBgR2XkakswVuI8a3VK4A6kWfe0XGA6SiVfoOlNrUlTkMUEXHsN3JZi2Ha2B03YpTfk0rr908cqVPrYBceaDTdyCO_WSJQRmE__ElKSPdvwJX21PRySrIu2KCog/s2016/IMG_3856.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7sxOVN45TuNN5hFMsveBgR2XkakswVuI8a3VK4A6kWfe0XGA6SiVfoOlNrUlTkMUEXHsN3JZi2Ha2B03YpTfk0rr908cqVPrYBceaDTdyCO_WSJQRmE__ElKSPdvwJX21PRySrIu2KCog/w640-h480/IMG_3856.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I then drew a proper sketch of the building and watercolor-washed over it with the brown, black, red, pink and green.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Eliminated from the image were a fence and a power generator, parked cars, and I took liberty in turning overgrowth into shrubbery.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLCGTeed84B_lcFqgfBhiMEmfwYi0K5KrVa468J8OBa9mloslqjRK7Cuabue5nT9rMJDvbOdR0XZSPSYoDe4mASjApyk1Ceflj_70Pc3LYsFV2o0Ttf7MvyZKNzx6j8jkFKAocX7IQmWO/s1936/IMG_3858.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1452" data-original-width="1936" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibLCGTeed84B_lcFqgfBhiMEmfwYi0K5KrVa468J8OBa9mloslqjRK7Cuabue5nT9rMJDvbOdR0XZSPSYoDe4mASjApyk1Ceflj_70Pc3LYsFV2o0Ttf7MvyZKNzx6j8jkFKAocX7IQmWO/w640-h480/IMG_3858.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="color: white;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">Next came the night sky —which is everything but black. Blue and purple make an appearance here.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">The parking lot in the foreground was a problem. It’s a mixture of greens, yellows, pinks, browns and blacks. The photo made it green; on paper it looked like grass. It took several washes of black, gray, brown and white to approximate illuminated asphalt at night. I stubbornly kept some green.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWX5qUnZFDcEmN_IueY09dX0AxSBHWV_cR9skXJtutlUPE7ronEka_3EFj-Az5h3niY_kSu6D6w0bHVQ3_Jv0qfJ33ZXiJLg0qvbXs1buvBD60VlZP0ShO5dd45aVFBkLNo5tRiMwNt9sL/s2016/IMG_3882.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWX5qUnZFDcEmN_IueY09dX0AxSBHWV_cR9skXJtutlUPE7ronEka_3EFj-Az5h3niY_kSu6D6w0bHVQ3_Jv0qfJ33ZXiJLg0qvbXs1buvBD60VlZP0ShO5dd45aVFBkLNo5tRiMwNt9sL/w640-h480/IMG_3882.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="background-color: black;">I toned down the spotlights too but drew in some rays of light with a china marking pencil.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">Final details were tightened up using watercolor pencils and a Sharpie marker, and a bit of water.</span></p></div></span><span style="color: white;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></div></span><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuu8xDHAYduBUBPaS2j2uyY5yjsAbnJ6wB688UdxzPxUELL60gOXiz4N5gCP9J8UHr0gx1cEjRp1kx0fQPc7qR7WyBwj2DCt1OY05MX-MpSbQr_sdNMdsAfjT0F_Wm5k-dJvP-htaoGuv/s1989/IMG_3899.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1435" data-original-width="1989" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuu8xDHAYduBUBPaS2j2uyY5yjsAbnJ6wB688UdxzPxUELL60gOXiz4N5gCP9J8UHr0gx1cEjRp1kx0fQPc7qR7WyBwj2DCt1OY05MX-MpSbQr_sdNMdsAfjT0F_Wm5k-dJvP-htaoGuv/w640-h462/IMG_3899.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="color: white;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">The painting fits perfectly into a very nice frame provided at an immense discount by my friends at Furniture Decor and More in Cortland. Thank you, that was a big help.<br /></span><span style="background-color: black;">I asked the boss to figure out where she wants to hang it. We’re gonna put a hanger hole in a wall soon.</span></p></span><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2UWE8DjZ5EolAD4k5z9Ar8a9VXm0WeGJbobB21IENVjbv-c8skkzdaNi0tBmC4uKxv61V4mJ3ESu8Zbi7zmrzugRLjqut_qjqmxG4q9XkwAQ6KX619qEcwDSEWq4mAppP6N_AKIN-g57/s2010/IMG_3924.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2UWE8DjZ5EolAD4k5z9Ar8a9VXm0WeGJbobB21IENVjbv-c8skkzdaNi0tBmC4uKxv61V4mJ3ESu8Zbi7zmrzugRLjqut_qjqmxG4q9XkwAQ6KX619qEcwDSEWq4mAppP6N_AKIN-g57/s2010/IMG_3924.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="2010" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2UWE8DjZ5EolAD4k5z9Ar8a9VXm0WeGJbobB21IENVjbv-c8skkzdaNi0tBmC4uKxv61V4mJ3ESu8Zbi7zmrzugRLjqut_qjqmxG4q9XkwAQ6KX619qEcwDSEWq4mAppP6N_AKIN-g57/w640-h420/IMG_3924.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"></span></span></p><span><div style="color: white; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><p></p></div>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-61206757162950241152021-03-15T08:31:00.019-07:002021-03-28T10:32:35.892-07:00No. 478: Ain't Talkin' Bout Love<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNV96QijZ3MYCNdPSjqgKhx76ak1xwNN_iIjJLKvr6l9d8pJJF_5wQpqeB7PcXdUqWMs0NLdXirf64-T2bOm6mESyjnOxybAE0U0b6tiI21dDAahUFu6GOUINK1FY6xZ0-IhM5-zCqmRd/s2016/IMG_2001.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNV96QijZ3MYCNdPSjqgKhx76ak1xwNN_iIjJLKvr6l9d8pJJF_5wQpqeB7PcXdUqWMs0NLdXirf64-T2bOm6mESyjnOxybAE0U0b6tiI21dDAahUFu6GOUINK1FY6xZ0-IhM5-zCqmRd/w640-h480/IMG_2001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love" by Tom Wills, March 2021. Pencil.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>"I heard you missed me. <i>I'm baacckkk."</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAKKlr-hFJh6trYlvIrz4FSVg0d49lqVtBdfQDczetv3UJj4fe3EgDGn4msZdCkXMcOCSA2G9rQO88DtwpfitNAhYsj75LEhE_OVjIZe_84-GGo0Bm-wZ5OFtRrOMrHoBkNGvw6DR3ziq/s1879/IMG_2138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1466" data-original-width="1879" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAKKlr-hFJh6trYlvIrz4FSVg0d49lqVtBdfQDczetv3UJj4fe3EgDGn4msZdCkXMcOCSA2G9rQO88DtwpfitNAhYsj75LEhE_OVjIZe_84-GGo0Bm-wZ5OFtRrOMrHoBkNGvw6DR3ziq/w640-h500/IMG_2138.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>I'm borrowing this line from David Lee Roth because it's been a while since I've posted anything new to my blog.</p><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVieP6r_hJYChwTAhcfiQ0sp8FTXHDB2wk6nPvpjPOqtc7wS_Tug8bHyC76pvfNNxSqrBgo-IP49nzEMYJkzY83-DSzS9zob07XXCv2P52iZMjelxiSCnsH0pv4Qyz-8i4ZzkTkmiHL0p9/s1966/IMG_2002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1966" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVieP6r_hJYChwTAhcfiQ0sp8FTXHDB2wk6nPvpjPOqtc7wS_Tug8bHyC76pvfNNxSqrBgo-IP49nzEMYJkzY83-DSzS9zob07XXCv2P52iZMjelxiSCnsH0pv4Qyz-8i4ZzkTkmiHL0p9/w640-h410/IMG_2002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>I'd painted Eddie Van Halen in 2012, looking back to his prime here: <a href="https://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2012/01/on-fire.html" target="_blank">https://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2012/01/on-fire.html</a></p><p>His October 2020 death had me thinking of doing another piece of tribute art and by the time I got to it, in March 2021, it seemed fitting to do both Eddie and Dave as a tribute to Van Halen, the band, because now it's really over.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOP5EgU49b5otVMC5xsbkdTrDdE_AvHzaNSnLFRh-fKPiqN-6HYggtWtVz8T16_G0kGH8MDbwsbd-f1TibJE3vVbbzZIjiqgMRtFOlScvEpZCxDu8ZGsWABbP1ZxixbaMbAON3HBPnXYY/s1550/IMG_2003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1550" data-original-width="1324" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOP5EgU49b5otVMC5xsbkdTrDdE_AvHzaNSnLFRh-fKPiqN-6HYggtWtVz8T16_G0kGH8MDbwsbd-f1TibJE3vVbbzZIjiqgMRtFOlScvEpZCxDu8ZGsWABbP1ZxixbaMbAON3HBPnXYY/w546-h640/IMG_2003.jpg" width="546" /></a></div><p></p><p>I tend to look upon Van Halen as The Who for MY generation. They carried us through high school through middle age and into our senior years. I always liked the riffs and enjoyed the sense of humor (even during the Sammy Hagar singin' years).</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcR1cmnuWMosDhjfrjl4_KevRD0OWMs4mxWYo9rOBceybXSNlX_8-FW439eg9PdKp14F3qUPjzS43RhOAzhQYB3V97QRyuOKBtwljCoFJNQ_igEnxBSb75i5U0q7NiqP4AYzCxDZoGQ7h4/s1700/IMG_2004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="1365" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcR1cmnuWMosDhjfrjl4_KevRD0OWMs4mxWYo9rOBceybXSNlX_8-FW439eg9PdKp14F3qUPjzS43RhOAzhQYB3V97QRyuOKBtwljCoFJNQ_igEnxBSb75i5U0q7NiqP4AYzCxDZoGQ7h4/w514-h640/IMG_2004.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><p></p><p>And because David Lee Roth is such a great singer, and so freaking funny, you can't really hate him. Even at the end he'n'Eddie seemed to get along enough to rock the globe one more gigantic time.</p><p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMEtPSsJTRb4ki7L9ZxCnHPRtkIksgD1D35NCpJW25qxnV_0utlO07QetwEEku5R3Qqq0Txc1DjADhmxEej-VsL8wdaCfDG1ZLnRNZDbU-XCFMFazkL9ZvBKnmRlwv6jsNJFmDkpVs5fM/s1874/IMG_1924.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1406" data-original-width="1874" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMEtPSsJTRb4ki7L9ZxCnHPRtkIksgD1D35NCpJW25qxnV_0utlO07QetwEEku5R3Qqq0Txc1DjADhmxEej-VsL8wdaCfDG1ZLnRNZDbU-XCFMFazkL9ZvBKnmRlwv6jsNJFmDkpVs5fM/w640-h480/IMG_1924.jpg" width="640" /></a> </p><p>Sure, the big hair is gone and maybe they didn't "Jump" as high. But the last record "A Different Kind of Truth" and tour smoked. It seemed to be a good time, had by all.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiyr8BJG2UY9G49REQKM6rw1ZHO-neAAvvlpFs2UPV5FOxFFO7wSZA__FtjH0P5IHout3v66CNBhzOis_7-0W8hSD56-C23tJU1UbjrusMrYwF8k46IPnLRvMHo-xRrHj5z3ZCrQhukIK/s2016/IMG_1918.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiyr8BJG2UY9G49REQKM6rw1ZHO-neAAvvlpFs2UPV5FOxFFO7wSZA__FtjH0P5IHout3v66CNBhzOis_7-0W8hSD56-C23tJU1UbjrusMrYwF8k46IPnLRvMHo-xRrHj5z3ZCrQhukIK/w640-h480/IMG_1918.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>This picture makes me happy. Van Happy. Ain't talkin' bout love, necessarily, just 'bout making things work out. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpdpqzh3ZjHeU6oVz7svvpR4hDHvzuRp-PUHnq0PtqfxsWU6IPzz9w72JXjx_9nysn67Dw0jDfUzazAaVq5tQOZXaqi5VRMt8GcoipispAvJFFUO3m1py8fEy4gqxBvHHimGutdepvzGS/s1921/IMG_2140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1405" data-original-width="1921" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpdpqzh3ZjHeU6oVz7svvpR4hDHvzuRp-PUHnq0PtqfxsWU6IPzz9w72JXjx_9nysn67Dw0jDfUzazAaVq5tQOZXaqi5VRMt8GcoipispAvJFFUO3m1py8fEy4gqxBvHHimGutdepvzGS/w640-h468/IMG_2140.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>Happy trials.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0jIXgmC35x6Yt0XngWtB_ruxNKkkkh5oqimNGT_gxiVBATA68zQQblK01e6t8AUdGeqEbj35102fHZIBacTwGoWHJy_f90pX9fQE8-_hOdcjiX0sGTgnuql3kWhNLOOnG3gsxFvQ_YTL/s2016/IMG_2139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib0jIXgmC35x6Yt0XngWtB_ruxNKkkkh5oqimNGT_gxiVBATA68zQQblK01e6t8AUdGeqEbj35102fHZIBacTwGoWHJy_f90pX9fQE8-_hOdcjiX0sGTgnuql3kWhNLOOnG3gsxFvQ_YTL/w480-h640/IMG_2139.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><i>By the way, the frame is all Roth but the hand-rubbed paint smears of red, yellow, black and white are for Eddie. </i><br /><p><br /></p>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-16383591343194109202020-07-08T08:49:00.000-07:002020-07-08T08:54:08.667-07:00No. 468: That What Is Not<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 468, "Son Flower" by Tom Wills, July 2020, ink and watercolor.</td></tr>
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I was thinking, while painting a dog, about how people need to look past first appearances and see "that what is not."<br />
Here we have the German Shepherd, a formidable animal, smelling a sunflower -- nose deep in a bloom.<br />
Would you imagine such gentle inquisitiveness from the police dog, catcher of criminals, watcher of prisons?<br />
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It's a favorite image of my own dog, Corleone, and it does capture his nature. On the outside he is a domesticated wolf but his innards are all cotton candy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This may not be the permanent frame. It seems there is a frame shortage during this pandemic.</td></tr>
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The painting is based upon a favorite picture, from Corly's younger days, when he liked to eat bees -- and before he learned not to. Sometimes it stings to learn things.<br />
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Right now Americans are at each other's throats, worrying through a pandemic, all keyed up. There's an ongoing heat wave. People are ventilating in all sorts of ways, not really going anywhere or getting anything done. These are ugly times.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1lTcsUNkriMZfUPhPm45WSOk7mvQc1OGhmLihHOUf3IffvYDA43q58na8wDzGlEMmcMD-80_grXuvHdRUmxXkDY_rkcf_Qg-wKfEj5v4CRXg2BJAsGyTEAE9oUEDYS_Zv-hV0wPOIfT9/s1600/IMG_9252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1290" data-original-width="1600" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP1lTcsUNkriMZfUPhPm45WSOk7mvQc1OGhmLihHOUf3IffvYDA43q58na8wDzGlEMmcMD-80_grXuvHdRUmxXkDY_rkcf_Qg-wKfEj5v4CRXg2BJAsGyTEAE9oUEDYS_Zv-hV0wPOIfT9/s640/IMG_9252.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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So, I sat down for four days during my pandemic vacation and painted a pretty picture of a dog and a sunflower. What does a dog pollinating his snout have to do with any of 2020's nastiness?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPfYDxsxxjRrwdNOf3Jw9BMRnadX1xz_OIy_QlemSfxG3ybAv8EkOxHgLLO3-nVicl63p_Hmw0-lqQXSAo0_UV_9ZCRR4yNCEsMUko2Mosj1Fz_BtpLmQD8bRIRd85Dax_IRcsQnAG5A8/s1600/IMG_9249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCPfYDxsxxjRrwdNOf3Jw9BMRnadX1xz_OIy_QlemSfxG3ybAv8EkOxHgLLO3-nVicl63p_Hmw0-lqQXSAo0_UV_9ZCRR4yNCEsMUko2Mosj1Fz_BtpLmQD8bRIRd85Dax_IRcsQnAG5A8/s640/IMG_9249.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Perhaps it's that we need to be more thoughtful about what we think we know, and how we imprint that upon those around us. We might get through this changed for the better if we look closer at ourselves and at least try to get past "that what is not."<br />
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Here's how the painting developed. The dark black is ink.<br />
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Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-69545668071085614552020-06-14T15:29:00.000-07:002020-06-14T15:29:52.321-07:00No. 464: Three Apollos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">No. 464, "Three Apollos" by Tom Wills, pencil, May 2020.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Elaine and Dan Rosenhamer Eastbourn</span></td></tr>
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I love when an art order requires me to employ a bit of sorcery, using magic to produce a one-of-a-kind image.<br />
"Three Apollos" is such an image.<br />
Here we have three historic American figures, all astronauts, all went to the moon and two walked upon it: Alan Bean, Neil Armstrong and Michael Collins.<br />
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Yet they never posed together, and Armstrong and Collins never flew to the moon with Bean.<br />
Armstrong, Navy, of course is the first human to set foot upon the moon July 20, 1969, followed by Buzz Aldrin (Air Force) 19 minutes later<br />
Collins, Air Force, flew the Apollo 11 command module Columbia and orbited the moon 30 times, waiting for Armstrong and Aldrin to land and return in the Eagle lunar module.<br />
Bean, a Navy officer, was the fourth person to walk on the lunar surface, Apollo 12 in November 1969.<br />
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I was told that these three men are the favorite space cowboys of the recipient of this drawing, a guy who loves the adventure and history of manned space flight. His wife -- a friend from even before high school -- just thought it would be cool to put his three favorites together.<br />
Turns out she was right, probably not for the first time.<br />
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I used NASA images and right-sized them to get the heads to the right size and orientation. Once I had roughed them in, I emailed her and got cleared for launch.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jO0y4WzHuFqif5fKs-8X7rPQC_RzWX8qT3Iq6scCScuaQOwpod_nxdZK-yRUajzAJt5face7P6Fj9mOfBpdy3LjjWn0az-TlGto4HGg5r2uxK_uwprkgftwJHKz6hK0qKuUkOnqx_Mg8/s1600/IMG_8593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jO0y4WzHuFqif5fKs-8X7rPQC_RzWX8qT3Iq6scCScuaQOwpod_nxdZK-yRUajzAJt5face7P6Fj9mOfBpdy3LjjWn0az-TlGto4HGg5r2uxK_uwprkgftwJHKz6hK0qKuUkOnqx_Mg8/s640/IMG_8593.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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We also added something very special: The frame was handmade by hubby's brother. At one time it held a space shuttle poster but when it came to me, the glass was being held in with tape. I restored the frame and treated the wood, and put the new drawing inside.<br />
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So, we have a favorite fantasy image in a family heirloom frame. And we are all over the moon about that.<br />
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-20584663465598938502019-12-25T13:29:00.000-08:002019-12-25T13:29:47.303-08:00No. 454: Black Fenders<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpX5C60J-nxR87E10JpJb0QkTjQHawR1sovOGeb9Gb33wCkWaWummkIZjnaQ04fx8nBJzzBsmCOTc-XVsuY1doKg-OOqRNd3MZkYutCk9rp-yXSycFbXZsZEeVCJU7HKcQbBhqGiqYgga3/s1600/IMG_6563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1130" data-original-width="1283" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpX5C60J-nxR87E10JpJb0QkTjQHawR1sovOGeb9Gb33wCkWaWummkIZjnaQ04fx8nBJzzBsmCOTc-XVsuY1doKg-OOqRNd3MZkYutCk9rp-yXSycFbXZsZEeVCJU7HKcQbBhqGiqYgga3/s640/IMG_6563.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 454, 1931-vintage Ford Model "A" watercolor by Tom Wills, November, December 2019<br />
<i>Ross and Brenda Linert</i></td></tr>
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This 1931-vintage Ford Model "A" is the first painting I've done that had to make a u-turn and return to the body shop here.<br />
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It's an important painting for me because it's the first I'd done since taking on a new job, and new hours. I needed to know that there would still be time for my art. As it turns out, there is -- with three more pieces that followed No. 454.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYigu2eeq7JKd6Xwzi1eL42re9M1SbjRicdhSNp-nAOiD_O2tk-RYjmZTiDxVn7e3IsTJHtgJgY0LeXqyKVjikULDFsw7YEETPZ1AsKCiCbbg_XF8WKA99fjHeSiTKef_kMySQzswMVmBV/s1600/IMG_6547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="796" data-original-width="1280" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYigu2eeq7JKd6Xwzi1eL42re9M1SbjRicdhSNp-nAOiD_O2tk-RYjmZTiDxVn7e3IsTJHtgJgY0LeXqyKVjikULDFsw7YEETPZ1AsKCiCbbg_XF8WKA99fjHeSiTKef_kMySQzswMVmBV/s640/IMG_6547.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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So, I was pretty thrilled with how the car turned out, and so was my new boss, who commissioned it. We made sure to go back and forth as the painting progressed, checking every detail as it came together: The greens, the browns, the grays.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-q8F7T7VGMF1Ef1Sq9Ch_8EtgTj-Ii3SXS4wq2MQzOoIoUDuv6a5SZ8LNvMOKPQZ18eyz85EPZ53fkfckNcZUVUj5IEWCAvXgMGJwCZBEGbATEa7CZjc64jY7JFyCa9rpLHcafurz1Yj6/s1600/IMG_6032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="1280" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-q8F7T7VGMF1Ef1Sq9Ch_8EtgTj-Ii3SXS4wq2MQzOoIoUDuv6a5SZ8LNvMOKPQZ18eyz85EPZ53fkfckNcZUVUj5IEWCAvXgMGJwCZBEGbATEa7CZjc64jY7JFyCa9rpLHcafurz1Yj6/s640/IMG_6032.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the Square in Warren, Ohio</td></tr>
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And so it was signed, sealed and delivered. But because it is a Christmas gift, the painting was in her office until Santa could deliver it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2CT0rj5w80zNQzd6Vz4NJXS1sSm7zLJCaZfFZAs2-8C8dT58pJydTWd1ZFQUfCMIGwgmfccBpEw4bBh1HS4ADA0eEhDtbnCLLY-hr58iUihq0KGCEIvlunvbHi1uWUroV_9uCtHt_PG5/s1600/IMG_6115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1262" data-original-width="1600" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2CT0rj5w80zNQzd6Vz4NJXS1sSm7zLJCaZfFZAs2-8C8dT58pJydTWd1ZFQUfCMIGwgmfccBpEw4bBh1HS4ADA0eEhDtbnCLLY-hr58iUihq0KGCEIvlunvbHi1uWUroV_9uCtHt_PG5/s640/IMG_6115.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oops.</td></tr>
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I kind of wondered why it was turned around on a chair, so that no one could see it. Then one night her son came to visit and she showed it to him. I walked in and they looked a little pale. There was a problem: The greens, the browns, the grays were fine. We had forgotten the blacks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWj8jJ0BSaizRCQ4Emd9Vh83XHfUn2Aj4D-JyPmAxsiRXs_0muLgDdUd16h38dtGzkUVFGpuqDCcNV7ZgJ9I2ukP2MeAf88INQmOePufb6ULCEN_VTcpUSWMPZP9JNVogj2VG9_YiFiAYW/s1600/IMG_6100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1102" data-original-width="1280" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWj8jJ0BSaizRCQ4Emd9Vh83XHfUn2Aj4D-JyPmAxsiRXs_0muLgDdUd16h38dtGzkUVFGpuqDCcNV7ZgJ9I2ukP2MeAf88INQmOePufb6ULCEN_VTcpUSWMPZP9JNVogj2VG9_YiFiAYW/s640/IMG_6100.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yikes.</td></tr>
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Indeed as you view the original photo, the Ford's fenders are black. Now, in the original painting, they were a darker green. As I progressed from looking less at the photo and more at the painting, I lost track of that and just assumed the fenders were a darker green due to the lighting, reflection, shading -- whatnot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIemdPg_FqqRReBn-bXZCJHbFJJ3foSV3yZTwyyx_1vhwYIDODJM31jme8q76Ja6XhtMWkA1xQkOS1U2eGSLkHWXX5AibHMuk0p0G1W8JgTDvSFTJuAYR0vI8Td_BzmBjVN2HqdUKU90cd/s1600/IMG_6099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1032" data-original-width="1600" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIemdPg_FqqRReBn-bXZCJHbFJJ3foSV3yZTwyyx_1vhwYIDODJM31jme8q76Ja6XhtMWkA1xQkOS1U2eGSLkHWXX5AibHMuk0p0G1W8JgTDvSFTJuAYR0vI8Td_BzmBjVN2HqdUKU90cd/s640/IMG_6099.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hmmmm</td></tr>
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Boss lady missed it too, at first, which is astounding because we both have careers that demand paying attention to details. (We spent days working on the color of the sky, however.) Cool cars, it seems, rev up our emotions and can blind us to the obvious when we get caught up in the moment.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadm8AjXfE4U_jdDqDm53bxKeHdQ1pbxA9s-l1zt4fKZW9CW5NzSCmO_lAHTBBU0AGoENAvqGwB-OPrcODBvFh-kVShk_TE-MsdnMDcsKyW7_dfkEW_hR07SR0hSqufTmFzBQPBVTzq0oQ/s1600/IMG_6062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadm8AjXfE4U_jdDqDm53bxKeHdQ1pbxA9s-l1zt4fKZW9CW5NzSCmO_lAHTBBU0AGoENAvqGwB-OPrcODBvFh-kVShk_TE-MsdnMDcsKyW7_dfkEW_hR07SR0hSqufTmFzBQPBVTzq0oQ/s640/IMG_6062.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painting begins.</td></tr>
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So suddenly three pale people were in an office with the painting turned backward on a chair. I was mortified. Christmas was just two weeks away! What to do, what to do?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYpzRa2nLdRJXsb0xfTyM7h1suos-X3nfQwl5e39k2DO24MEigrfo6xatKrogdskGiZV0-r6bGakm1Mvu1jvUm5RuhT78x2nnFajXsVVOP8RZJnFoM3cMPmbq39xVJseLtrqjQf-mjHCW/s1600/IMG_6052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYpzRa2nLdRJXsb0xfTyM7h1suos-X3nfQwl5e39k2DO24MEigrfo6xatKrogdskGiZV0-r6bGakm1Mvu1jvUm5RuhT78x2nnFajXsVVOP8RZJnFoM3cMPmbq39xVJseLtrqjQf-mjHCW/s640/IMG_6052.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inked before painting.</td></tr>
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I took No. 454 back to the shop, stripped off the backing and pried it out of the frame with a knife, being careful not to mar the painting, mat, frame or backing. Like a determined surgeon preparing to attempt a facelift, I planned out how to repaint the fenders without ruining the original picture. They couldn't be too dark and stick out too much, they couldn't be too light and still look green. Ugh!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj005EOwwXXkSUp59wJzx3fPYw9nkH5qdFt-m5UwUZhTLB3_6iO7NmggCnGWzF6n4GYck9l1QhnJxMuLjjcddpn1IIN52wf6xEUVXJ2HFomuCYwznmwz2JRn2fgCwE4TejAQnAhCVxyI66I/s1600/IMG_6041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1157" data-original-width="1600" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj005EOwwXXkSUp59wJzx3fPYw9nkH5qdFt-m5UwUZhTLB3_6iO7NmggCnGWzF6n4GYck9l1QhnJxMuLjjcddpn1IIN52wf6xEUVXJ2HFomuCYwznmwz2JRn2fgCwE4TejAQnAhCVxyI66I/s640/IMG_6041.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sketched out</td></tr>
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So I cheated: I used a very wonderful German-made black colored pencil (Staedtler art pencils) and lightly drew over the green fenders and a portion of the car's side panel. I then watered down some black watercolor, and painted over the penciled fenders. This kept the shadowing, the detailing, a hint of green reflection -- yet now the fenders are clearly black.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyATvVEt__NYRXugsVB2w-zKkRAu2AADpgACx06SAlaAwZacT55QAotHppvLhBy2kiowTSz85wZaEtSwnOuqmj68BccYKxwQUv55U_rIojKy2W12Cqw70-mS3OSO9rCGhTlNDy-XYMC2u/s1600/IMG_6561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="1280" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilyATvVEt__NYRXugsVB2w-zKkRAu2AADpgACx06SAlaAwZacT55QAotHppvLhBy2kiowTSz85wZaEtSwnOuqmj68BccYKxwQUv55U_rIojKy2W12Cqw70-mS3OSO9rCGhTlNDy-XYMC2u/s640/IMG_6561.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the body work</td></tr>
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I used to paint my real cars all of the time when I was a kid. Now, as then, I waited for the paint to dry before reassembling the entire package. Glass, mat, painting, backing and frame all went back together without a hitch. No one would ever know, except for me telling you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrBcyQ2dSf47Qi-B3RT1zk3e7h1217Zhjoe1b5A8pu-JhmcFw5Uym4yQmXYiwMUp5LQiQh-V2bz6wY2hb4GMjRfhQM7cZRTrrcyBh3-6DWui6UmyDGCxaohc5SKCvaW3z7GHRYcFSpK2D/s1600/IMG_6562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1370" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrBcyQ2dSf47Qi-B3RT1zk3e7h1217Zhjoe1b5A8pu-JhmcFw5Uym4yQmXYiwMUp5LQiQh-V2bz6wY2hb4GMjRfhQM7cZRTrrcyBh3-6DWui6UmyDGCxaohc5SKCvaW3z7GHRYcFSpK2D/s640/IMG_6562.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re-assembled and ready!</td></tr>
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The old Ford took a ride back to the office, waiting to be wrapped for its final destination on Christmas Day. I'm glad it's right because here's the thing about guys and cars: Her husband would'a noticed in about a nanosecond that the fenders were green ...<br />
<br />
Well, maybe.<br />
There was another episode as boss lady took the painting home on an icy night: Her very modern hybrid car died in traffic, and a tow truck, a police officer and good Samaritans were involved in keeping her safe and sound until ... you guessed it! ... her husband arrived in another vehicle.<br />
Stealthily, somehow, she moved the painting from the dead car to the warm and running one, putting it in the back seat -- right behind him!<br />
Not. A. Clue.<br />
Later, he walked the dog and she stashed the picture in a closet.<br />
Home at last.<br />
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Merry Christmas, everyone. Here are the other holiday pieces:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__M7cKitfl4UCkeLl4F3Zqqxitk-kzHzFSdrSXt6uJPPMPp7WPBhtBivOZUMit39b9BBn3_Gv8IjxtESE8qXlyi2oMq2XqMGXUmCI3VWMAn2Rt1cH154dDZHzMYEi_9Q7j8gmaIppUwW7/s1600/IMG_6485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="1446" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__M7cKitfl4UCkeLl4F3Zqqxitk-kzHzFSdrSXt6uJPPMPp7WPBhtBivOZUMit39b9BBn3_Gv8IjxtESE8qXlyi2oMq2XqMGXUmCI3VWMAn2Rt1cH154dDZHzMYEi_9Q7j8gmaIppUwW7/s640/IMG_6485.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 456: "Lizzie." Tom and Tracy Marshalek</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYwRQpPQjLpIPXt8futQLnJzscWD4Yf3QC3DpBn79uJS-COwgeyN_t48kkeqmTFpbhn1scy-ApcmQ2UsMutFsofR91L1_EW3WlFkKcskPYeZeMMrYRRMQxDJtBDofQZQ9mx_QqR73s1J1/s1600/IMG_6325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1327" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYwRQpPQjLpIPXt8futQLnJzscWD4Yf3QC3DpBn79uJS-COwgeyN_t48kkeqmTFpbhn1scy-ApcmQ2UsMutFsofR91L1_EW3WlFkKcskPYeZeMMrYRRMQxDJtBDofQZQ9mx_QqR73s1J1/s640/IMG_6325.jpg" width="530" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 455: "King." Carly Thomas</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1V5dNvjGhMjpTsbbMeryvE84wYdHVlKlCOLzIDXhYXlRM_GMS7ZMzgMJtFm1M9uXHRJPp27PoZLICVYu0PcHpVZrq080zcwn3ibbAS99kIsk18EEiVAxlPOs1whqvMs3Xgq-JWMOkBpH9/s1600/IMG_6624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1V5dNvjGhMjpTsbbMeryvE84wYdHVlKlCOLzIDXhYXlRM_GMS7ZMzgMJtFm1M9uXHRJPp27PoZLICVYu0PcHpVZrq080zcwn3ibbAS99kIsk18EEiVAxlPOs1whqvMs3Xgq-JWMOkBpH9/s640/IMG_6624.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaWkEvXWN1tZLE12l-AetfrAMCWVWlAnPUtqYs3XpeBOYyqWzftGfsMyFW0WDfdpikWq0dG9RKe3NRkUQYXckQuaERAQ3LyFCrrfMusQq0vUzwmjR3AWEOdrGM_m1HMtpctDsLf2ZwvT2/s1600/IMG_6642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaWkEvXWN1tZLE12l-AetfrAMCWVWlAnPUtqYs3XpeBOYyqWzftGfsMyFW0WDfdpikWq0dG9RKe3NRkUQYXckQuaERAQ3LyFCrrfMusQq0vUzwmjR3AWEOdrGM_m1HMtpctDsLf2ZwvT2/s640/IMG_6642.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 458: "Tucker." Tom Groth</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR327XkJ6gMhO7pv6DemGDJKcCQ5qX7THHXGbsPWpBxVvEYkLV99-BMvCxmFg6OyCvVy3w-obpxpTSaLl0d3EYlTGaFEocTbQP1sCbyMmN7JHDticX5TgGVhwzO597TUQiTWwnlV1znNot/s1600/IMG_6518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1319" data-original-width="1081" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR327XkJ6gMhO7pv6DemGDJKcCQ5qX7THHXGbsPWpBxVvEYkLV99-BMvCxmFg6OyCvVy3w-obpxpTSaLl0d3EYlTGaFEocTbQP1sCbyMmN7JHDticX5TgGVhwzO597TUQiTWwnlV1znNot/s640/IMG_6518.jpg" width="524" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 457: "Grumpy Uncle Bob" -- available, $160.</td></tr>
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-59707686345524845902019-10-06T06:05:00.001-07:002019-10-14T18:05:38.818-07:00Nos. 450, 452, 453: Orphans<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEADhRb2cROUYjFDSOQM8Ri88fkgzMtbm3dHvB51gCYeIcudDUkD2YvUDXVjZRbWSnkj7B5sSaf_716Mki7NBshAUyjfOUYqvPZWRda0BcTDIGWbIJW3GDxkTPCfxDwGTGjGUXl9Rx4P7/s1600/IMG_5477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="968" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyEADhRb2cROUYjFDSOQM8Ri88fkgzMtbm3dHvB51gCYeIcudDUkD2YvUDXVjZRbWSnkj7B5sSaf_716Mki7NBshAUyjfOUYqvPZWRda0BcTDIGWbIJW3GDxkTPCfxDwGTGjGUXl9Rx4P7/s640/IMG_5477.jpg" width="484" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Linda Ronstadt by Tom Wills, pencil, September 2019</td></tr>
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Sometimes, my favorite part about finishing a drawing or painting is writing about it -- and sharing some insight on how a piece was put together. But not every work gets its own writeup.<br />
Such pieces -- and there are dozens of them either here at home or in other homes around the states -- are my orphans.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6eRwCMwh_mjmfUlTarc-wvZ3HJB7KnNYbRTXgNWeRtIO-gMOim4hhNizGbRoM9ShcDe9JcbX-YbSetbx4O129T0YJZMPahgHumLUa5toxs67mdUjJDqrzyA3VjY2X0SOIhmAD_RJDRvc7/s1600/elton2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6eRwCMwh_mjmfUlTarc-wvZ3HJB7KnNYbRTXgNWeRtIO-gMOim4hhNizGbRoM9ShcDe9JcbX-YbSetbx4O129T0YJZMPahgHumLUa5toxs67mdUjJDqrzyA3VjY2X0SOIhmAD_RJDRvc7/s640/elton2.jpg" width="548" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elton John, by Tom Wills. Pencil, October 2019.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Elton John is the latest, just a little piece done over a weekend because I felt like it, and wanted to keep in practice. I found a frame that matches the ruffles in his shirt and is sufficiently gaudy. The frame makes Elton look larger than he really is -- I think he'd like that. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYK1EinrDsbqboqUFXHUYo6q4316s8zG4tteOis_Y_Axa0brayOU7mI_NS51MovlhmdoiG0c_R9e1o45NFZlNEXPT6OZXA00Zvb1bBwBqAAFVlZSPf3HA37KNKBLJDSpDCBSc3K5DMJY2/s1600/IMG_5475.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1169" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYK1EinrDsbqboqUFXHUYo6q4316s8zG4tteOis_Y_Axa0brayOU7mI_NS51MovlhmdoiG0c_R9e1o45NFZlNEXPT6OZXA00Zvb1bBwBqAAFVlZSPf3HA37KNKBLJDSpDCBSc3K5DMJY2/s640/IMG_5475.jpg" width="466" /></a></div>
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It's not that there's anything wrong with the drawings or that they received less care. I liken them to singles released by bands that never make the album. Some are big hits, some are misses and others become highly prized as time passes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTG9z37hnVD9-UrA2htm6pNR04Tbm_m7CTYHfQzbKHXKy5LWBUJHD2T_FPuIHL5BptS0m0NCvVbgrTJNOmpAQ4hHOxc_0q44oqGqyV8rqptKhq6uamSJWgxqMWVs_SEqn9bYmxcyqM31LD/s1600/IMG_5811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1077" data-original-width="1282" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTG9z37hnVD9-UrA2htm6pNR04Tbm_m7CTYHfQzbKHXKy5LWBUJHD2T_FPuIHL5BptS0m0NCvVbgrTJNOmpAQ4hHOxc_0q44oqGqyV8rqptKhq6uamSJWgxqMWVs_SEqn9bYmxcyqM31LD/s640/IMG_5811.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue Ringo by Tom Wills, pencil, October 2019.</td></tr>
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It just so happens that I've put out two orphans in a row in September and October: Linda Ronstadt and Ringo Starr. Linda's is different from most because I used a very heavy and rough-textured paper. So she looks a little grainy up close, but from a few feet away she's as pretty as ever.<br />
Ringo was the only Beatle that I hadn't drawn, until now. The occasion was the anniversary boxed set release of "Abbey Road,' which is fantastic.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RgvAtVmbCVNt8RvWG6Cw4ghrZVKVGkRyJeKUBDfh-9E-hBjKBpM7t6W2zMPBEj_6pqKadzlPNva6HKd3N9d-sbo9frL_y84w03bn3hTiAq8-BOVN3IS8d1mInKQ7ZHCJqHeNiZKKJtt0/s1600/IMG_5808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1182" data-original-width="1493" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9RgvAtVmbCVNt8RvWG6Cw4ghrZVKVGkRyJeKUBDfh-9E-hBjKBpM7t6W2zMPBEj_6pqKadzlPNva6HKd3N9d-sbo9frL_y84w03bn3hTiAq8-BOVN3IS8d1mInKQ7ZHCJqHeNiZKKJtt0/s640/IMG_5808.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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There are a few songs in the box that became singles for The Beatles and others, but never made a proper album (excluding compilations): "Come And Get It," "Old Brown Shoe," "Ballad of John & Yoko," and "Goodbye."<br />
Even the Fab Four had orphans.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjwlQFqEry3CwYqf1RE8uRue15KUzI8ecK-IqupJ_oxtwDQUsd5z7urTUC8jTG6Qmn_8abwnAEZElH5Or0Y2dMIYzJryZX45SnsWfMPVXPQBc3lwJAUCgWIs5me4_ELAp_sFoK_JfrfDnz/s1600/elton3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1494" data-original-width="1292" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjwlQFqEry3CwYqf1RE8uRue15KUzI8ecK-IqupJ_oxtwDQUsd5z7urTUC8jTG6Qmn_8abwnAEZElH5Or0Y2dMIYzJryZX45SnsWfMPVXPQBc3lwJAUCgWIs5me4_ELAp_sFoK_JfrfDnz/s640/elton3.jpg" width="552" /></a></div>
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Here are some of my favorites. The first one, in particular, from summertime, "Reflection." <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7k1UwJtc0EcirkR-d61h7aaemezWY2BLTYguc79WFr8d7fPiUK8Vy-Woy_8hk6MZ1A576CYSQTfBnoD6xCAyUbojcvEOkYNw9rsQvAJHDnYQ_ui1ElEfUVolXrsNv2Knl4Z3iOQ2qln2W/s1600/IMG_4965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1600" height="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7k1UwJtc0EcirkR-d61h7aaemezWY2BLTYguc79WFr8d7fPiUK8Vy-Woy_8hk6MZ1A576CYSQTfBnoD6xCAyUbojcvEOkYNw9rsQvAJHDnYQ_ui1ElEfUVolXrsNv2Knl4Z3iOQ2qln2W/s640/IMG_4965.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-11431900286067415322019-09-27T07:24:00.001-07:002019-09-27T07:34:38.899-07:00No. 434: You Can't Demolish A Legacy<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 434, Warren Western Reserve High School by Tom Wills, pencil, March 2019</td></tr>
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I was a Raider at Western Reserve High School in Warren, Ohio, from 1975 to 1979. Then I was a Kent State Golden Flash, then a writer, parent, artist and grandparent. For me, a 40th-year high school reunion is a dicey proposition. Senior high school was a long time ago -- and if that was the highlight of your life, then you haven't had much of a life.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black and gold.</td></tr>
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I was going to sit this one out, although my classmate-wife Patty wanted to go and see how everyone's holding up. I can tell you: We're 58-ish, graying and heavier. But hopefully now we're wiser and established -- my words for "settled."<br />
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So I was surprised when another grownup Raider, and my once-neighbor, proposed very early this year that I create a special piece of art for the event. Not gonna lie, he waved a few bucks at me and, well, out the window went my reunion resistance.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagination amok.</td></tr>
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John said to let my imagination run and come up with whatever I wished. So I perused Raider yearbooks for ideas and settled upon the Indian head logo, the Raider mascot with spear, the musketeer that graced the auditorium, the band (the drummer is not me), cheerleader, majorette and -- of course -- the once-rival Reserve and Warren G. Harding Panther football players. I spaced these across the backdrop of our beautiful alma mater, which was demolished in 2010. Patty and I attended a final walk-through before the bulldozers brought their madness.<br />
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The art piece became a not-to-scale collage of varsity activities, played out on the school's front lawn. I sent John regular updates and he just said "do it."<br />
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Our reunion is Sept. 28 at DeLucia's banquet hall in my Warren hometown; my house is five minutes from the venue. Many living far away can't make it, including John, who funded most of the party but has sudden, critical business matters to settle elsewhere.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many prints!</td></tr>
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He and I made prints of the artwork for everyone who shows up to take home for free. And I'm taking the massive, framed piece to the reunion -- even though John won't be here to take it home.<br />
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But he'll be back for it, I know. It seems we mighty, mighty Raiders always come back -- eventually.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Artwork commissioned by the Rush Family Trust, 2019.</span></div>
Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-3482899391085072942019-09-15T07:57:00.001-07:002019-09-15T07:57:35.030-07:00No. 451: Sunflowers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Sunflowers" by Tom Wills, September 2019. Watercolor on ink and pencil.</td></tr>
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It's a Farmall, friend of the fields and a fixture at county fairs.<br />
The big red tractor, I'm sure, is older than the parents of Jack and Luke, the brothers visiting the sunflower maze at Von Bergen's Country Market in Hebron, Ill.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQi6ocsqbjpLckA38CJuQtxDcqTrR0pOLVjHEl4_e_h_wyTbkMbyAdL9iOkNRxm2YWoeyH2SGu_ZVksm0LdJABH5Al1gVaKqn6UPAbxvTL7mIjshcrpZxe7at7uO9WdnD9NNIEOQvrXot/s1600/IMG_5524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1384" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQi6ocsqbjpLckA38CJuQtxDcqTrR0pOLVjHEl4_e_h_wyTbkMbyAdL9iOkNRxm2YWoeyH2SGu_ZVksm0LdJABH5Al1gVaKqn6UPAbxvTL7mIjshcrpZxe7at7uO9WdnD9NNIEOQvrXot/s640/IMG_5524.jpg" width="552" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Restored, antique farmhouse frame.</td></tr>
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Back here in Ohio, grandma asked me if I could do a painting from a picture she'd taken that golden day.<br />
Turns out, I could.<br />
Grandma already had a spot picked out over her fireplace. All she needed was the picture.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3DrnZGOnJb7DS4LB-WvLwzyaDk3tNBc2s87X3oERDHQVPfkgjsFBYhJkFz2QRUBh_xiSqs_pCKjstlnqs1i76J7wxmMQVTj8BD0G_6Mk5mtPIGfQV2XnYdxRCXETow8JDDmz1GjOYer6/s1600/IMG_5547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1168" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3DrnZGOnJb7DS4LB-WvLwzyaDk3tNBc2s87X3oERDHQVPfkgjsFBYhJkFz2QRUBh_xiSqs_pCKjstlnqs1i76J7wxmMQVTj8BD0G_6Mk5mtPIGfQV2XnYdxRCXETow8JDDmz1GjOYer6/s640/IMG_5547.jpg" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home.</td></tr>
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I was in between jobs, both of the art kind and the making a living type, when I agreed to take on the project. A sketch was worked up first, so that we could agree on the size and image. Many messages were exchanged over a few weeks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDi_1c7jZbbUby4yBMhOMzA9c9TaXQTPKOl8YJT63cOjPbPafTvW5r6WyQ4O5dnnVFzFY_BBBbofCsRjNS9it-7g6WUJ55MJphzE2Nn8vC7Rolk5UTRbVaLtcLrioswm-pttUF_yce7ww/s1600/Image-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqDi_1c7jZbbUby4yBMhOMzA9c9TaXQTPKOl8YJT63cOjPbPafTvW5r6WyQ4O5dnnVFzFY_BBBbofCsRjNS9it-7g6WUJ55MJphzE2Nn8vC7Rolk5UTRbVaLtcLrioswm-pttUF_yce7ww/s640/Image-1.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking sketchy.</td></tr>
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The sketch is the skeleton of the painting. Once the bones are in, then the colors can grow, from light to dark. I washed this sketch with yellow, green, blue, red and brown -- in that order. I tried a few white streaks to approximate high grass. The wash serves as the pillow upon which the final colors will rest.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a wash.</td></tr>
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I purposely "built" the tractor and landscaping around the boys. It was a distant picture and I couldn't see their faces clearly, so I knew that detailing the two would take extra care. There were two sets of legs entwined on those tractor pedals, little arms and hands, rosy cheeks and some lime green sunglasses.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDGUwCFuarjqnJcjiXyf-pYEXnZVsipmv3Ns2HYBG5aq2n_0yKa8VGGBUwSbkWWINihDlll0Et1CEPYpz3avpTdHxD2k77PeUgRhNA0cslyTokdQdsMWScEpls4T7iUKqVRHdYgQBk099/s1600/IMG_5496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDGUwCFuarjqnJcjiXyf-pYEXnZVsipmv3Ns2HYBG5aq2n_0yKa8VGGBUwSbkWWINihDlll0Et1CEPYpz3avpTdHxD2k77PeUgRhNA0cslyTokdQdsMWScEpls4T7iUKqVRHdYgQBk099/s640/IMG_5496.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building those boys.</td></tr>
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I painted over all of the blacks and whites once the boys were pretty much finished. This made the tractor and landscaping "pop" from the watercolor paper. It also served to clean up some messy lines.<br />
The sunflowers in the background are approximated in by design. Up close they appear as dots and splotches of yellow, orange, green, brown, white and black. But from a few feet away, they're easily seen as sunflowers. Golden magic!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack and Luke</td></tr>
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Grandma and I talked about frames throughout the process. What would work? Too light, too dark, too big, too modern -- what to do for a farm painting over a fireplace?<br />
Luckily I have a friend who runs a local shop full of furniture and frames. In the midst of the painting I came across a big old frame tucked behind her counter. She didn't have a price for it, but I swore I'd be back when she did.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYpAgDd0TNN0tdWvm_nKPTRMHgnkOwHzBJs1CO3v2V2LHqXUC-Pd2IPT0NGSfhL2zSIdQqCLuXTvBPVTJTaezfe5kqlhrDi6jbtMWCIuNKwqkFKe59Mkyx7HT8D_TQiLy2yMuRJ1nBeBx/s1600/IMG_5513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYpAgDd0TNN0tdWvm_nKPTRMHgnkOwHzBJs1CO3v2V2LHqXUC-Pd2IPT0NGSfhL2zSIdQqCLuXTvBPVTJTaezfe5kqlhrDi6jbtMWCIuNKwqkFKe59Mkyx7HT8D_TQiLy2yMuRJ1nBeBx/s640/IMG_5513.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here the unfinished frame is just placed over the painting, to see how it fits.</td></tr>
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The frame is beautiful but needed a little touch up work, so I mixed up some gold, black and brown and brushed the mixture onto the rough spots -- using my right index finger and a paper towel to rub it in and make it match both in color and shine. In many of my pieces where older frames are used, the frame itself becomes art.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4-Dpcv804lx3U94mg5ZnYORKe_MpNHTQQdNoGMAm8dv55-yZrKwaWfGUWmUbtPEy6-jp6QzQ9zifEcVmCdkE_5iAJtVIF6OOYT_5QAGeWte4v3UAE-YNohpmAs4Tok63aLG2XIJ3311i/s1600/IMG_5522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE4-Dpcv804lx3U94mg5ZnYORKe_MpNHTQQdNoGMAm8dv55-yZrKwaWfGUWmUbtPEy6-jp6QzQ9zifEcVmCdkE_5iAJtVIF6OOYT_5QAGeWte4v3UAE-YNohpmAs4Tok63aLG2XIJ3311i/s640/IMG_5522.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The frame as art.</td></tr>
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Grandma and I love the frame. It's now extra rigid, sealed and heavy. It will last through Jack and Luke's children -- and grandchildren!</div>
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I don't imagine the boys cared much about all of this on that sunny Illinois day, as they imagined piloting the giant red Farmall across the field, kicking up dust and smoke and making big tractor noises.<br />
But I hope they turned around and noticed the gold. The sunflowers are where the magic is.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHue3YClyDpf6IzUK3nUh0Gtndomj4vpHJ_jISp5l8QXkuDsCK2iUnNXv-B2bXU-XXlZsbCmfI_AQt1F3SoZ4z3Lm_Nww39F5DvbMP2lgAZLfz8VmQ8Oopz8FH-HSBDCsUtB7AChhAtPFg/s1600/IMG_5492.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHue3YClyDpf6IzUK3nUh0Gtndomj4vpHJ_jISp5l8QXkuDsCK2iUnNXv-B2bXU-XXlZsbCmfI_AQt1F3SoZ4z3Lm_Nww39F5DvbMP2lgAZLfz8VmQ8Oopz8FH-HSBDCsUtB7AChhAtPFg/s640/IMG_5492.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>To inquire about an original watercolor or pencil illustration, contact Tom Wills on facebook or at willstom01@gmail.com. Prices vary by project size and scope. </i></span></div>
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-27393735507081925422019-09-01T13:43:00.000-07:002019-09-01T13:47:01.520-07:00No. 446: The People's Paper<div style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;">"Mom and Mark," by Tom Wills, pencil, commissioned by Mark Sweetwood, Vindicator managing editor, August 2019</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I saw Betty Jagnow and Mark Brown in the newsroom nearly every day for much of my 34-year-plus career at The Vindicator in Youngstown, Ohio. Going one-on-one with your CEOs is unique in these troubled days of American newspapers. That is one benefit of an independent, family-owned venture. But there is also a toll.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;">Ohio Gov. Mike DeWine wishes Mark and Betty the best and thanks them for a great newspaper.</span></span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;">Mark Brown, right, talks about our closing, warns people that news should come from reputable sources.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When the bottom fell out here on June 28, 2019, we got the bad news in person from Mark, the general manager -- and publisher Betty’s only child. The paper had just turned 150 on the 25th and now would close Aug. 31 after four generations of proud family ownership.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That night, while helping Mark to assemble his letter to readers for the print edition, I asked just one question: “How’s your mom?” </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Betty Jagnow became publisher after the death of her husband, William J. Brown. April 1 marked her 71st year of working here — April Fools' Day also was my 34-year benchmark — while Mark had 38 years.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They'll be out of work, too, among many of my colleagues.</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Vindicator's old building, August 2019, commissioned by Kalea Hall.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In my view, neither the ownership nor the staff failed the community, and we tried for as long as possible to keep the beast alive. We tried all sorts of things to keep good people working in downtown Youngstown.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Newspapers, including ours, employ some of the brightest people you’ll ever meet and yet we could not work up a winning formula to defeat the F word: FREE. It’s human nature to grab what we don’t need to pay for, and online news — from sources both legit and sketchy — trips over itself to be first at giving away print's lifeblood.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="display: inline; float: none; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">There is no buyer for this business and its debts.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;">Storm clouds brewing.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">According to the Pew Research Center: “From 2008 to 2018, newsroom employment in the U.S. dropped by 25 percent. In 2008, about 114,000 newsroom employees – reporters, editors, photographers and videographers – worked in five industries that produce news: newspaper, radio, broadcast television, cable and “other information services” (the best match for digital-native news publishers). By 2018, that number had declined to about 86,000, a loss of about 28,000 jobs.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;">Bad news.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The number of newsroom employees at U.S. newspapers declined by 47 percent between 2008 and 2018. This decline in overall newsroom employment has been driven primarily by one sector: newspapers. The number of newspaper newsroom employees dropped by 47 percent between 2008 and 2018, from about 71,000 workers to 38,000.”</span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Vindicator General Manager Mark Brown chose to personally edit and proof the final Page One story.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Initially I was going to write in this space about what we did, or didn't do, in the last 15 years to right the ship. But at this juncture no purpose would be served -- and I don't want to go out like that.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At The Vindicator, <span style="display: inline; float: none; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">there was a valued sense of loyalty from the very top to bottom. If you stuck by the company, it stuck by you for as long as it could -- until it couldn’t. We kept showing up and doing the work and were very good at it. I never missed a paycheck.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Friday night, Aug. 30, 2019, about 9:45 p.m., hot off the press.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fortunately, and unexpectedly, I was thrown a life raft and will stay in local journalism, and can continue with newsroom management from closer to home.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mark Brown was a real gentleman about it and was relieved that someone swept me up, at my age. I am grateful too.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On our final day the newsroom presented the drawing to him, signed by all of us. I told everyone we can leave with our heads held high.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">They saw it through to the very end, despite the heartbreak.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That night, before the press run, I hugged his mother -- so formidable in her earlier years -- and kissed her cheek, and I told her, "thank you." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">… And I didn't shed a single tear until I typed that sentence.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Vindicator alumni who didn't stick around for these worst of times are planning a reunion for the Sunday after our closing.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Come back to Youngstown and have your dinner, and look back on the better days. Venerate our name or poke a stick in us, however you feel.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have no interest in further revisiting the life and death of this place. Many of us who stuck it out are too wrung out to party.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-85862296110440821332019-08-21T14:36:00.000-07:002019-08-24T16:37:34.394-07:00No. 449: Stone <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Stone" by Tom Wills, August 2019. Watercolor and ink,</td></tr>
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No. 449, “Stone,” is Trumbull County’s courthouse, dominating Courthouse Square in Warren, Ohio. Historic in its own right, the structure is significant in my life as a journalist. In my formative years I ran up and down those marble staircases dozens of times a day. I covered many gruesome murder trials that sent depraved young men and women to prison for life, or to death. But there were also adoptions, naturalizations, weddings and lighter happenings.<br />
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So it was fitting that I had to return to the courthouse in August to obtain paperwork that was needed for my “retirement” from my first phase of newspapering. My pension papers from The Vindicator were signed and sealed fully a month before the 150-year-old newspaper ceased publication in downtown Youngstown.<br />
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I snapped four photos of the courthouse on my way in to the building. It was a foggy morning and overnight rain had dampened the sandstone and turned the summer grass vivid green. I thought: “Such a beautiful place for sending much of society’s ugliness away.”<br />
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The Trumbull County Courthouse is listed on the National Historical Register of the U.S. Department of Interior. According to the county’s own history of the building, the cornerstone was laid on Thanksgiving Day, Nov. 28, 1895. LaBelle and French of Marion, Ind. designed the building and E.M. Campfield of Findley, Ohio did the construction.<br />
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It’s Amherst sandstone, from Amherst, Ohio — The Sandstone Center of the World. “The giant stones were sawed to specification at a cutting mill erected in the park,” its history states.<br />
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Stone work on the tower began in August 1896, with the copper roof installation beginning in September. “The tower framework was completed on Oct. 22, 1896, with the American flag flown from the superstructure.”<br />
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“In November, the courthouse bell, weighing 1,500 pounds, arrived and the tower clocks were put in place.” I climbed to the bell and the clock mechanism three times, in my younger days of running the building, through a back stairway off of one of the courtrooms.<br />
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“The ‘statues of justice’ arrived in time for the first statue to be placed on the east gable on March 4, 1897 - William McKinley's Presidential Inauguration Day.” The courthouse was dedicated on May 10, 1897.<br />
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Right then, in that fog 122 years later, I knew it would be my next painting. And I knew that I’d make it huge, like the edifice. I had been hoarding away large and heavy sheets of watercolor paper for just such a project. The image is 17.5’’ by 23’’.<br />
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It’s not all watercolor painting, however. After drawing the image in pencil I went over certain highlights with black ink, and then painted over those dark guide lines.<br />
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I approached each section of the courthouse separately, working on the details from left to right — most prominent and detailed to most distant and vague. That sandstone was done in three phases: A wash of goldenrod, a paper towel blot of dark brown, and another brush-and-blot of white. This created the illusion of individual stones over the pencil sketch.<br />
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I used colored pencils for detailing the ripples and folds in the copper roof, and even the blinds in the windows. Then, I painted over that to “seal in” the color.<br />
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Last came the landscaping and the tree. The grounds in summer are beautiful with all sorts of flowers brimming in their beds. The tree in the foreground I frankly found a distraction and almost eliminated it from the image. But then, the painting without that tree would not be true to reality.<br />
I would not want to fake 122 years of history. <br />
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The tree was sort of a nightmare. Those are my fingerprints all over it, plus six or seven colors, some ink, a few splashes of water, black, white, four brushes, wads of paper towels and one nervous wreck. It worked, somehow.<br />
The shrubbery in the front was created using the side of a toothpick. <br />
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Looking at it against the backdrop of all that sandstone, it's not a really large tree, certainly not original to the grounds. That tree was placed at that spot for a reason.* I was at the courthouse that morning for a reason. And there is a definite reason why I did this painting: My own roots are in that building.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>* I could find nothing online about a tree dedication at the courthouse, and court personnel including a judge who were asked did not recall. I think it's a tree planted for Parents of Murdered Children, and it occurred some years after one of the especially brutal trials that I covered. If you know, please share.</i></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">Prints will be made available of this painting.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">This original painting is available. Contact me at willstom01@gmail.com </span></b><br />
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Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-16548166715303050442019-08-17T15:13:00.001-07:002019-08-19T12:17:00.455-07:00No. 445: Out of the Blue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every now and then, a call comes out of nowhere that really leads somewhere. <br />
No. 445, which I will call “Out of the Blue” for a couple of reasons, is the fruit of surprise.<br />
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I got a message in July from Dan Pecchia, inquiring about art. This intrigued me on a lot of levels: Dan and I used to be fairly fierce newspaper competitors, then we found ourselves working in the same newsroom at The Vindicator in Youngstown where he excelled at business coverage, before he branched off to form his own public relations company, Pecchia Communications in Canfield.<br />
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I really wasn’t expecting to hear from Dan the weekend after learning I’d lose my newspaper job due to closing. It’s not like we’re golf buddies.<br />
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But we agreed to meet up at a local eatery — both of us had the grilled chicken sandwich — and talk about the old days and ways, and eventually about art.<br />
This is not the picture he initially envisioned: his younger and current self morphed together somehow in The Vindicator’s newsroom. His wife Betsy vetoed that one, thank you, because the one they have at home now is much more meaningful. Dan explains:<br />
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<i>"With our three kids grown up and on their own, Betsy and I get more chances to travel and one of our favorite things to do is hike in the mountains. During one recent getaway we enjoyed a bunch of intermediate walks up and down the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Shenandoah National Park in northern Virginia, an incredible place full of history and awesome views of God's creation.</i><br />
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<i>"These mountains also hold sentimental value for us because when our kids were younger, we took them out of school every February to go skiing and hiking in these mountains. It's significant to us that we just sorta stumbled upon this place on our own, not as a result of someone else's suggestion or tradition. We keep coming back … blazing our own trails."</i><br />
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All drawings start with the eyes. If the eyes are wrong, nothing else will work. From there I shaded the faces, then roughed in their clothing and the mountains. <br />
(Best moment: Assuring Dan that his wife indeed would have hair.)<br />
They looked more like themselves after the clothing was filled in. The rocky landscape came last, then I touched up a few things to tie everything together.<br />
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Dan and I pecked through two frame choices but settled on the bigger, bolder one. Because climbing a mountain is a big, bold move. Almost as big as, say, starting your own business or heading into a new horizon after 34 years in a newsroom.<br />
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We’ll see you at the top.<br />
<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-43645367571750186452019-06-02T19:17:00.003-07:002019-06-05T11:47:43.547-07:00No. 440: Walnut Creek Falls<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walnut Creek Falls by Tom Wills, No. 440, May-June 2019, watercolor</td></tr>
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The story of how this painting came to be has nearly as many twists and turns as does Walnut Creek winding through my little city of Cortland, Ohio.<br />
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I'd venture some people never knew about these waterfalls under the South High Street bridge. I certainly didn't until May of this year.<br />
But I'm getting a little ahead of myself.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHGXDqemntqIoK0d1vtwIgGh3c9A74oS-tRCS7v3ocyWoqiUpdkK0UAFLHLsSQ3sDfIbpc0SJwYKwgPkWlxc3EW370dydhkodP1HimKFAl2vneodp-U4pAe8qkTZKYxO9swm8lK8bOB2n/s1600/IMG_3657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHHGXDqemntqIoK0d1vtwIgGh3c9A74oS-tRCS7v3ocyWoqiUpdkK0UAFLHLsSQ3sDfIbpc0SJwYKwgPkWlxc3EW370dydhkodP1HimKFAl2vneodp-U4pAe8qkTZKYxO9swm8lK8bOB2n/s640/IMG_3657.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A crate of colors.</td></tr>
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From the beginning:<br />
I had a new metal roof put on my house in September 2018. The contractor had a lot of irons in the fire at the time, including a sewer pipe break at the old house he'd just bought with hopes of renovating. The place used to be called The Old Mill Gallery, an arts and crafts place -- and later some apartments -- just beyond the bridge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYl_A5tBiku5wGu2o-9Iw6eRhIC7kJCJ-GlYRsHIwXWfC0v30t5iOaXCAXdJN4BduaZ9zQoCPGU75nRWeCK7m9PC82vDQREZDeCUttgGTO9MwoEo754aql8mnFCqvjWUZZzM00UIW5-kX/s1600/IMG_3658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYl_A5tBiku5wGu2o-9Iw6eRhIC7kJCJ-GlYRsHIwXWfC0v30t5iOaXCAXdJN4BduaZ9zQoCPGU75nRWeCK7m9PC82vDQREZDeCUttgGTO9MwoEo754aql8mnFCqvjWUZZzM00UIW5-kX/s640/IMG_3658.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My original snapshot.</td></tr>
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My roofer told me the previous owners had a ton of leftover art stuff they were selling, and that I could get it all for a song. But the truth is, I'd just bought a roof and I wasn't singing much. So I passed and figured the treasure pile went to someone else or was trashed.<br />
He left his business sign in my yard until it snowed and I propped it up inside of my garage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinIIe9k8tQlvyPxf2gzZRNITLjdBS7ahUTdOsY-KleZ3iBGiq_togepmSHFvfRfNFiBp-bU9jyPRPGvIEQHFbxnwOsT8VJwm83Tfe1ohFKu_MJd8wbsHuhpTcN9bMo1kCbEAKj6CHGXBtJ/s1600/IMG_3633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1408" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinIIe9k8tQlvyPxf2gzZRNITLjdBS7ahUTdOsY-KleZ3iBGiq_togepmSHFvfRfNFiBp-bU9jyPRPGvIEQHFbxnwOsT8VJwm83Tfe1ohFKu_MJd8wbsHuhpTcN9bMo1kCbEAKj6CHGXBtJ/s640/IMG_3633.jpg" width="562" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first haul of papers,</td></tr>
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By April of this year that sign was in the way of my own garage sale, so I threw it in the car trunk and drove it over to the old mill house. He wasn't there but I could see some signs of new construction and the start of a new walkway. So I put the sign on the porch and turned to leave when I first heard, then saw the falls.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijWJ8zaKre4mp2Su8BDpVxKVNYIIP9CUd6q8T89nkti-pDVGKzx6ExKLYZZX8LQCsHgTQ5I1ftXUdpwwNV1Jt9Qz6SGI9T7q8g5q7ckoSj9NPQlzMl_GAOA641RkJdB1jDrPsP9NteGcg/s1600/IMG_3656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijWJ8zaKre4mp2Su8BDpVxKVNYIIP9CUd6q8T89nkti-pDVGKzx6ExKLYZZX8LQCsHgTQ5I1ftXUdpwwNV1Jt9Qz6SGI9T7q8g5q7ckoSj9NPQlzMl_GAOA641RkJdB1jDrPsP9NteGcg/s640/IMG_3656.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Color map and rough sketch,</td></tr>
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It was such a bright spring day, with trees and grasses coming back to life, The sky was finally blue and those falls were running hard from April's showers. On a whim I took one picture on my iPhone, then took off.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlR3_O0RsUz4zxUBNLItPQjKTDHTAyzuYDRNyJ0FlLgrWfFrOe_hEEZ3FEDFIMCsuRPUr3EiH9mPO-Yr-fVbonJi39JAMdbUUiNYYb9dNxdjE6QHZYm6tpN4hJdLKb-z_oh1gGf78T49c1/s1600/IMG_3669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlR3_O0RsUz4zxUBNLItPQjKTDHTAyzuYDRNyJ0FlLgrWfFrOe_hEEZ3FEDFIMCsuRPUr3EiH9mPO-Yr-fVbonJi39JAMdbUUiNYYb9dNxdjE6QHZYm6tpN4hJdLKb-z_oh1gGf78T49c1/s640/IMG_3669.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we go!</td></tr>
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We had our own garage sale on Good Friday and drew a load of people who had the day off and wanted something to do. One dude who showed up to buy a bunch of kid stuff and old furniture had tattoos all over him. We talked a while because my daughter runs her own tattoo business. He mentioned he'd just bought an old house with a lot of stuff in it that he needed to unload sometime.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDC4DqR-1RMXiDoJnN0OrYIO1J1yet9SG8Bt4OEE1w1n11CvBcFPSPVRkIpKbgJ2pmKndCY2ix_I2yHv36pFPb7MA0cvAzBwwFB6UfCP-rcNdzN-uiUvTCsfotCwEjCUoDFxOxhoTlvA7Y/s1600/IMG_3742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1172" data-original-width="1600" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDC4DqR-1RMXiDoJnN0OrYIO1J1yet9SG8Bt4OEE1w1n11CvBcFPSPVRkIpKbgJ2pmKndCY2ix_I2yHv36pFPb7MA0cvAzBwwFB6UfCP-rcNdzN-uiUvTCsfotCwEjCUoDFxOxhoTlvA7Y/s640/IMG_3742.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ripples.</td></tr>
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Forward to mid-May and I noticed a bunch of old chairs and antique stuff lined up along Warren-Meadville Road. So I stopped in and found it was the tattoo dude's place!<br />
"Am I gonna find my shit in your shit?" I asked.<br />
"Not gonna shit you, you might," he answered.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94foJU1ThoLAdAO4QLcGmKGqriagKpN4tJ_JoKRowJL-JLxI3YdN0LxjLVv5CDGLTALFqU60JNq_rZZt5RRRGTG7CnHTK7-umGBeIvkn3L_P7VB3-6ChRs_YIZpJMHtO4UcU1HyjIFHlU/s1600/IMG_3743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94foJU1ThoLAdAO4QLcGmKGqriagKpN4tJ_JoKRowJL-JLxI3YdN0LxjLVv5CDGLTALFqU60JNq_rZZt5RRRGTG7CnHTK7-umGBeIvkn3L_P7VB3-6ChRs_YIZpJMHtO4UcU1HyjIFHlU/s640/IMG_3743.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weeds, reeds and grasses.</td></tr>
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But what I found were piles and stacks and rows of goodies from the old mill: Tons of papers, glass, frames and other stuff. I ended up making two trips over two weekends and for $16 brought back a heap of huge, excellent British-made watercolor papers. I've stashed enough for probably five years.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKap_L1W91A6QaoEojDDGISwzo2z1fWa6wvylG48h_myViW5DL8uekjUKfTJ44N0OcTxOpl7u2q4ngb-7fsTLMUfV3f4AX-dvz0AlXcQ43A5QBp5pGnGAew8stpeVk91Dk3Yevv8OWBE2/s1600/IMG_3774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKap_L1W91A6QaoEojDDGISwzo2z1fWa6wvylG48h_myViW5DL8uekjUKfTJ44N0OcTxOpl7u2q4ngb-7fsTLMUfV3f4AX-dvz0AlXcQ43A5QBp5pGnGAew8stpeVk91Dk3Yevv8OWBE2/s640/IMG_3774.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trees and branches begin.</td></tr>
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Then I remembered the picture I shot of the Walnut Creek falls and mentioned during a Sunday dinner that it might make a good painting to try on these new papers. But I was quickly reminded that there are <i>plenty</i> of unsold paintings here and there are better things I <i>should</i> do with my time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVc1U8B9zLl7ucQRs1oE8eoohzDmyJKojioPc3vQFtJftKBwnqpMu8gdWjgjYOKifs8R3-mA9Xakis55Xf2SL5BEmtrdNmXT_BKajMsP5cPvo5KWPB3wv-j033CDMDwlmG-k9jBaDG0iH/s1600/IMG_3831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1288" data-original-width="1600" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVc1U8B9zLl7ucQRs1oE8eoohzDmyJKojioPc3vQFtJftKBwnqpMu8gdWjgjYOKifs8R3-mA9Xakis55Xf2SL5BEmtrdNmXT_BKajMsP5cPvo5KWPB3wv-j033CDMDwlmG-k9jBaDG0iH/s640/IMG_3831.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The woods taking shape.</td></tr>
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So I was discouraged for a day, then really irritated, and then motivated: I started the painting on May 21 and finished it on June 2. I drew a paint color map for where the basic colors would go, and then roughed in a sketch. The good paper sucked the colors right in!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqpSWJBnCsUhyphenhyphenE7SeHpdgVqCXihs-JMKslpTgV8nuZluDetbb7NCI3jDG0W4snXDbFg5DRMz2GoNsm0BEynPgd21E-8BMRJ_VaVfDiqjcaNDqXAndZnejVnjMM49IS-ozTOOr5e4SNZG8/s1600/IMG_3832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqpSWJBnCsUhyphenhyphenE7SeHpdgVqCXihs-JMKslpTgV8nuZluDetbb7NCI3jDG0W4snXDbFg5DRMz2GoNsm0BEynPgd21E-8BMRJ_VaVfDiqjcaNDqXAndZnejVnjMM49IS-ozTOOr5e4SNZG8/s640/IMG_3832.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trees and a hint of light to come.</td></tr>
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I watercolor washed in the creek bed first, then the greens and blues, then some browns for the woods and blacks and purples for the water and rocks. I built up layers and layers of grasses, trees, flowers, rocks and ripples. Each layer of paint got heavier and brighter, and more detailed. I mixed white in with various greens, yellows and browns to create sunlight and shadows. Again this wonderful paper accepted the paints willingly.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoJ8COkte4Vc1Dae3DEVvjH8mLGQpuV1wa3jZXss402Ypvh04f1-EIY_k51fwkRK06vk-p56eCMxoIzfmv5NfsGs6l3ZyXTx9lXdyA-a56dGs-gSLQ_fvEo-K9EXmf75cn3XOpk4eQaSK/s1600/IMG_3835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1600" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoJ8COkte4Vc1Dae3DEVvjH8mLGQpuV1wa3jZXss402Ypvh04f1-EIY_k51fwkRK06vk-p56eCMxoIzfmv5NfsGs6l3ZyXTx9lXdyA-a56dGs-gSLQ_fvEo-K9EXmf75cn3XOpk4eQaSK/s640/IMG_3835.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Springtime! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This painting closed a lot of chapters and had an unanticipated finish: My daughter, the tattoo artist, told me that it looks like my mother had painted it -- that our styles here look similar in texture and coloring. That made it worth doing and gave added meaning to those rays of light shining through the spring trees.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluSxDcCxvLwVilcY0367CR-LnVVa9PlxXducHsHPqWS2TBl5mg9Mh61snPnZh8fXPzW7On6j0XxTJLk3n13zczGV9CWIzADuqdnxX8UId1dmT5QsyfkzQJajOQvLtGLESTs0LonozXVmN/s1600/IMG_3835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1166" data-original-width="1600" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjluSxDcCxvLwVilcY0367CR-LnVVa9PlxXducHsHPqWS2TBl5mg9Mh61snPnZh8fXPzW7On6j0XxTJLk3n13zczGV9CWIzADuqdnxX8UId1dmT5QsyfkzQJajOQvLtGLESTs0LonozXVmN/s640/IMG_3835.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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There was some discussion about matting and framing this painting, which does have a dream-like quality. Would a light-colored pastel mat in a dark frame set it off? Probably. Or an oak frame with a dark mat? Sure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwslIqch5AWHV7k41qsOEh9sx-jCxBsvfOnK-VvM2ScxemA-yfVjiNmO8uaRwLplqD7fVMhdEqdgzqtKhepeHPmxQQQOZzoV0D1QVtKB17UKCHWM5vsyWeYrRuj7nzMMoE_ujYUY5jH0uc/s1600/IMG_3889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwslIqch5AWHV7k41qsOEh9sx-jCxBsvfOnK-VvM2ScxemA-yfVjiNmO8uaRwLplqD7fVMhdEqdgzqtKhepeHPmxQQQOZzoV0D1QVtKB17UKCHWM5vsyWeYrRuj7nzMMoE_ujYUY5jH0uc/s640/IMG_3889.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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But in the end I went with a frame and mat that mixes in all of this painting's colors: Golds, browns and reds, and of course a mossy green. Jointly they set off the woods and the grasses and the creek bed, which at the time were still dotted by fall leaves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfG4nMUg0vIGpUxmRzpOI-VqSQ9FYAGWDGhI7PkomMeVUUCdInWVy0aXfXNMfUWPMPFgZg9ulaG6flORS2gMUBXjYu3mz-vIR4l4UmygwC4gcAthMV4Z7UeED9QL1qeO9geJVaKcj_Dmy/s1600/IMG_3888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1049" data-original-width="1280" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfG4nMUg0vIGpUxmRzpOI-VqSQ9FYAGWDGhI7PkomMeVUUCdInWVy0aXfXNMfUWPMPFgZg9ulaG6flORS2gMUBXjYu3mz-vIR4l4UmygwC4gcAthMV4Z7UeED9QL1qeO9geJVaKcj_Dmy/s640/IMG_3888.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I'd love to sell this painting, and a bunch of the others on the walls here at home too. Sometimes it takes a while, sometimes they go quickly. If this one has to hang on a wall for a time here, I can live with that.<br />
And so can everyone else at the table.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbCPXpcIxmOjUW06WhvQVf6Xxa8YwF0w_hSV8uq3W31dTnc0pYO7gUKzKN_00sXI5s69YbwMtXq3kvw6-D_5VFCXf6TKKLIU-pdIsgDiFS0hlLWnGQeG5W46Fjvr1Si2yBMIXqonGl8eK/s1600/IMG_3886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1186" data-original-width="1600" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnbCPXpcIxmOjUW06WhvQVf6Xxa8YwF0w_hSV8uq3W31dTnc0pYO7gUKzKN_00sXI5s69YbwMtXq3kvw6-D_5VFCXf6TKKLIU-pdIsgDiFS0hlLWnGQeG5W46Fjvr1Si2yBMIXqonGl8eK/s640/IMG_3886.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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To inquire about this painting, or any other paintings and drawings on this site, email me at willstom01@gmail.com or message me on Facebook. I love to talk about my art. Can't you tell?<br />
<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-73750498077868809392019-05-31T06:40:00.000-07:002019-05-31T06:40:19.246-07:00No. 438, Inherent Wisdom, Love and Beauty<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPhoAgVYnF9l0zJJcNLn7OJpRREzGq4afECnivQYOH6fvBn_sHONOC7xDfJQWrw02b87bMe3uWbV9ezuxG5NJ0e0DlAS_0SGWcvpZDJp1B7a3gSKmJTkBf52Mlp0LRb2DTsk67Wy2h6BM/s1600/handsbest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1241" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuPhoAgVYnF9l0zJJcNLn7OJpRREzGq4afECnivQYOH6fvBn_sHONOC7xDfJQWrw02b87bMe3uWbV9ezuxG5NJ0e0DlAS_0SGWcvpZDJp1B7a3gSKmJTkBf52Mlp0LRb2DTsk67Wy2h6BM/s640/handsbest.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Inherent Wisdom, Love and Beauty,". pencil, May 2019</td></tr>
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Hands are hard for me to draw. In fact, if you peruse my work, you'll see all sorts of ways that I've treated hands: Faded them, cropped them out, hidden them, just plain avoided them.<br />
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So when I was asked to create an image of three overlapping hands for a housewarming gift, I paused a bit before accepting the challenge.<br />
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I'm glad that a high school friend and I were able to put this project together for her newly-married daughter. It's a special gift that spans three generations -- the hands are daughter-mother-grandma or "Oma." She wanted to call it <span class="_5yl5"><span>"Inherent Wisdom, Love and Beauty."</span></span><br />
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<span class="_5yl5"><span>Apparently the photo used to create this drawing was an afterthought. It was meant to be taken professionally on wedding day, but in the hoopla it never was. So the next morning everyone gathered round the wedding dress and made it happen for themselves. </span></span><br />
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<span class="_5yl5"><span>Interestingly, my friend specifically requested a "repurposed" frame and mat in keeping with her motto of </span></span><span class="_5yl5"><span><span class="_5yl5"><span>"Reduce, Reuse, Recycle." You can trust me when I tell you that a square frame and mat are not easily found in this size, but after two or three attempts we settled upon this silver shell with a mat that -- by sheer luck -- is the same color as the wedding dress.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="_5yl5"><span><span class="_5yl5"><span>The bride doesn't remember but I met her when she was just learning to walk. And really I hadn't seen her mother much since high school -- </span></span></span></span><span class="_5yl5"><span><span class="_5yl5"><span><i><span class="vmod">Fräulein</span></i> Cicero so long ago. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><span><span class="_5yl5"><span>Such great memories. Keepers.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><span><span class="_5yl5"><span> </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><span><span class="_5yl5"><span></span></span></span></span>Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-29446693261844924132019-04-26T16:39:00.000-07:002019-05-04T12:49:50.923-07:00No. 437: Putting Jamie Lee Together<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifR1o6ao2jcjuisnAuWsPxgF-GHyYuEIbDbnniMaCRxHQhPZiXefGhTKkxIJ6-_03xqvrZfs6bNbM3tQ09INWHcUnPbjD2Ic152COduvW4fxMigh0yJK1SC4j8kmbakqTbU9xPqeD5ocQe/s1600/IMG_3370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1315" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifR1o6ao2jcjuisnAuWsPxgF-GHyYuEIbDbnniMaCRxHQhPZiXefGhTKkxIJ6-_03xqvrZfs6bNbM3tQ09INWHcUnPbjD2Ic152COduvW4fxMigh0yJK1SC4j8kmbakqTbU9xPqeD5ocQe/s640/IMG_3370.jpg" width="526" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jamie Lee Curtis by Tom Wills, pencil, April 2019.</td></tr>
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Sometimes I take a break from drawing dogs and cats to keep in practice for drawing people. Usually that means a musician of some note, but occasionally it's just a figure that catches my eye.<br />
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These now include Jamie Lee Curtis, Elizabeth Taylor, Barbara Eden,
Patsy Cline, Judy Garland, three Marilyns and a
barely-dressed woman over my drawing table -- 45 rpm records
stategically placed to keep it Rated PG.<br />
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Interestingly, most of these pieces have sold, and were purchased by women.<br />
I wasn't going to write about Jamie Lee Curtis, planning to put the picture up on Facebook and that's that. But it turns out that I really like this image. <br />
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Jamie Lee has a body, and a body of work. We met her first as scream queen Laurie Strode in the Halloween horror films. There have been awards fore Trading Places, A Fish Called Wanda and True Lies. My kids and I loved her with Arnold Schwarzenegger. And there are many more awards and nominations.<br />
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A daughter of film stars Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis, she’s also a writer of acclaimed children's books, and quite a philanthropist. An inventor -- who also washes her own car.<br />
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Younger people may know her as the comfy Activia probiotic yogurt lady, and her role with the product makes perfect sense considering how she’s embraced the gray and avoided plastic surgery.<br />
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She told <i>Good Housekeeping</i> in 2018: “I don’t know if men wake up, look in the mirror and hate themselves. Most women do. So I have a big secret: I don’t look in the mirror. I’m a 60-year-old woman. I am not going to look the same as I used to, and I don’t want to be confronted by that every day! When I get out of the shower, I have a choice: I can dry myself off looking in the mirror, or I can dry myself off with my back to it. I turn my back to the mirror, and I feel great! I don’t want women to hate themselves, because I think women are extraordinary.”<br />
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Here's a peek at the drawing as it came to life. I paid particular attention to the various blacks and grays in the dress. Five pencils were broken during the making of this piece. They just don't make 'em like they used to!<br />
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-54416334925927093212019-02-10T08:20:00.001-08:002019-04-28T09:36:35.812-07:00No. 433: Cinderella<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Cinderella" by Tom Wills, watercolor and ink, February 2019. SOLD</td></tr>
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<i>Click on each photo to enlarge.</i><br />
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The Mill Creek Park Suspension Bridge in Youngstown -- the Silver Bridge or Cinderella Bridge --since the late 1800s has been the scene of many first kisses, engagements, photos and, true, paintings. It's a unique and well-preserved historic structure that draws the eye and breath and fires fancies.<br />
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I was asked at the start of 2019 if I would paint this bridge, for an April wedding!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Politano/Steines wedding</td></tr>
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The bridge certainly is a complex contraption of girders, wires, block and concrete. Indeed the bridge does appear suspended someplace outside of reality.<br />
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The park's literature explains that the 1895-erected Suspension Bridge carries Valley Drive across Mill Creek to connect the east and west sides of Mill Creek Park. "Following the wishes of Volney Rogers to create fanciful park entrances, Charles Fowler of the Youngstown Bridge Co. designed the structure.<br />
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"The Suspension Bridge is the oldest of six bridges in Mill Creek Park. It measures 86 feet long and 32 feet wide and was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1976."<br />
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In the summer and fall of 2007, with input from the Mahoning Valley Historical Society, Youngstown State University, the Ohio Historic Preservation Office and additional agencies, the Suspension Bridge went through a major rehabilitation.<br />
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I accepted the project with some trepidation. First I would have to draw the bridge, and then draw over it with ink, and finally paint over the ink and pencil marks. And those wires and trees would surely be a challenge!<br />
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Things started out alright with this rough watercolor wash over the ink. The basic colors followed the tree line and grass edge, and I knew where the bridge and its base would go, as well as the pavement and walkway in the foreground.<br />
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But as the bridge came together, the tree line became a train wreck. Too dark, too "Wizard of Oz" rather than Walt Disney. Fixing this took some thought.<br />
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Fortunately a tiny paint brush and some white, yellow and brown dots. smudges and splotches did the trick -- and it is a trick of the eye -- creating the illusion of sunlight and moisture on tree leaves. This lightened the woods up substantially though I kept tinkering with them right up to the end.<br />
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Next came the intricate tasks of filling in the bridge and its railings. Again the fine brush was used, and a bit more ink, and three days of patience.<br />
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I set about "building" the bridge deck after the bridge suspension was complete. It's set upon beams and blocks and adorned with intricate trim.<br />
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Next came the supporting blocks and the grasses along the walkway. The grasses are another illusion: Six colors of paint applied with a small brush to again create the illusion of sunlight, many plants and wind.<br />
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Last to be done were the walkway and the pavement. Though these are mostly white, gray and brown the foremost pavement is another illusion: If you look closely, it's purple! Have you ever looked at sun-baked paving? It's anything but black.<br />
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This was a monster of a project and I'm satisfied with the result. I found the right frame with a matching mat and it looks like a good fit!<br />
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I thought a lot about making prints of this piece but settled against it. I've always said to "Consider an Original." That has meant there is always just one work. This "Cinderella" painting, then, can be no different.<br />
Like the original bridge, since 1895, there can be just one.<br />
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-51473274369212778802019-02-02T04:46:00.000-08:002019-02-02T04:46:47.141-08:00No. 432, 'I've Just Seen A Face'<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTBTYjEzC_venPNOms7c4kz5_LQy4PdRchIvkv-jUO1g7tnOvSLlGZ7g5y3H0VV8CHj9aihyphenhyphenKE-LXXGpcagq9bOV4vwRnrvB4GlqJwcgU26KRb-rMtI-h33g7vJIS3ivV_oE7Guu-4-D7/s1600/pamframe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1281" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTBTYjEzC_venPNOms7c4kz5_LQy4PdRchIvkv-jUO1g7tnOvSLlGZ7g5y3H0VV8CHj9aihyphenhyphenKE-LXXGpcagq9bOV4vwRnrvB4GlqJwcgU26KRb-rMtI-h33g7vJIS3ivV_oE7Guu-4-D7/s640/pamframe.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 432, "Butters," January 2019. Pencil.</td></tr>
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<i></i><br />
<i>"I've just seen a face,<br />I can't forget the time or place" -- The Beatles</i><br />
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The name of No. 432 is actually "Butters," but I called this blog "I've Just Seen A Face" because of a little magic I was asked to perform here.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uOHWmYkv8k7p1NMW6Dbvt8AIIuDVvquoWIxUgPwUXAQRHHB8WzVjWZZn1zA5LCIvSKAH7tTQPv1Q9ocgjDE51jbVUuFpsYBwk27TpzYMGzBoRdJAAu8Wid9LEE-ktPv-6DQFIZRu3_m6/s1600/pamphoto.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uOHWmYkv8k7p1NMW6Dbvt8AIIuDVvquoWIxUgPwUXAQRHHB8WzVjWZZn1zA5LCIvSKAH7tTQPv1Q9ocgjDE51jbVUuFpsYBwk27TpzYMGzBoRdJAAu8Wid9LEE-ktPv-6DQFIZRu3_m6/s640/pamphoto.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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In the original photo, our rider Pam was looking down. You couldn't see her eyes.<br />
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To fix this, I was sent several more photos of her face on everything BUT horseback. I was able to find one of the approximate same angle and superimpose her features inside of the riding clothes.<br />
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She has kind of a surprised expression, which is appropriate because she had no idea -- until now -- that this one was coming.<br />
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<i>"A horse is pretty much a dog until you attach the nose." -- TW</i><br />
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-29645516306910056462019-02-01T06:34:00.000-08:002019-02-01T10:12:43.118-08:00No. 430: Soul One (James Brown)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx5d9OE09Euh6DH_VITSHSuVs94tsB5dY8G3Gg2ThXBqJUSRiVLapYTQES9AvJXAmW5S2Q2w417xigZfcC-dg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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"Are you ready for Star Time?"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"We gonna do something funky right here … Wait a minute … Stop!"</td></tr>
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I am perhaps the whitest person you'll ever know.<br />
And yet I know my music, and I am colorblind to it.<br />
Always loved a tight beat, thanks to my early years as a drummer, and from all of the music time I have logged behind my own studio equipment.<br />
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The king of tight was James Brown, Soul Brother No. 1, The Godfather of Soul, The Hardest Working Man in Show Business, Mr. Please, Please, Please.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPMbGS0Zmpce2CrukAcoZ-l9w_30dGRrCC7z2NNwBBjlSTL3NMFg2u6Bmc76mAbcN64N3eUGizunchqeRSaV9FZdNyZWYEPWM6cykJ5-Pz9grdSEu8tSIAckxk3h0K-t47OCrNXNsBn13/s1600/IMG_0933.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="963" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPMbGS0Zmpce2CrukAcoZ-l9w_30dGRrCC7z2NNwBBjlSTL3NMFg2u6Bmc76mAbcN64N3eUGizunchqeRSaV9FZdNyZWYEPWM6cykJ5-Pz9grdSEu8tSIAckxk3h0K-t47OCrNXNsBn13/s640/IMG_0933.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 320, "Soul One" by Tom Wills, graphite, December 2018.</td></tr>
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Original JB records in good condition are hard to find, because they were basically party records and have been played to death. There are hundreds of them and they're not all stellar, mostly because King Records of Cincinnati really knew how to exploit its artists. There are plenty of low-fi ("Vivid Sound") live recordings, half-assed compilations and instrumentals that simply are hit songs with the vocals stripped off. JB was an egomaniac too, also releasing all sorts of James Brown Productions annually across other labels (Smash, Polydor).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIHKerule7g15EdWrI3VimRmoJ_LRkCzLBtJGlpdmy_Tvtej5r5hrV2Ej73fPrc1Baa9f_YJilSlsbFOo6GwKjwNXS9YwzBf-f1yOqJAmyRiN8gS4GgH7P1Nc5WGTzTKb-H-bYaB3FePhk/s1600/IMG_0938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIHKerule7g15EdWrI3VimRmoJ_LRkCzLBtJGlpdmy_Tvtej5r5hrV2Ej73fPrc1Baa9f_YJilSlsbFOo6GwKjwNXS9YwzBf-f1yOqJAmyRiN8gS4GgH7P1Nc5WGTzTKb-H-bYaB3FePhk/s640/IMG_0938.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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But the grooves are so deep (actually) that heavily tracking these platters on a good turntable still brings the funk, and sometimes the surface noise adds a little icing. JB's banter is self-centered, politically incorrect, outdated in 2018 -- and funny.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn23dA8RtCZkh_Yd5wRxtpS7yuUt2Hc1wg0Ep-inqCSs1Osdc_An_7uQHoI6yHUwqufBpjZQR6q6zPEePOpYKWwtGWcFYSf4zkecgn6xqo6nZeKz7fpNxAlS9_o1mnVohvdYCjN7h41BfI/s1600/IMG_0934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1346" data-original-width="1105" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn23dA8RtCZkh_Yd5wRxtpS7yuUt2Hc1wg0Ep-inqCSs1Osdc_An_7uQHoI6yHUwqufBpjZQR6q6zPEePOpYKWwtGWcFYSf4zkecgn6xqo6nZeKz7fpNxAlS9_o1mnVohvdYCjN7h41BfI/s640/IMG_0934.jpg" width="524" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You can't tell me how to use my mess."</td></tr>
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I'm at the point now where I actively have to think out and search for musicians to draw. I've gone through most of the genres: rock, jazz, soul and country. I thought about doing JB for a long time but kept moving him to the end of the list, which now seems misguided. Correcting that took one weekend.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXUNgNeqldv-nv5dEwlls_roX_hM_fcsRodsE3W-QNsUo2KyBZWwySUQWcsGSkzmY7xWjHVqI-D2iHVEagFowM0hQMrIrvuc9j-H9f2XM7GJ3m8BieYknP0Fk3fT5Qb7gIBrd8kHxN4nf/s1600/IMG_0931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1600" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXUNgNeqldv-nv5dEwlls_roX_hM_fcsRodsE3W-QNsUo2KyBZWwySUQWcsGSkzmY7xWjHVqI-D2iHVEagFowM0hQMrIrvuc9j-H9f2XM7GJ3m8BieYknP0Fk3fT5Qb7gIBrd8kHxN4nf/s640/IMG_0931.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black.</td></tr>
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I drew JB's face first, knowing that nothing else would work if the face and hair were off. And it was tough: There were problems at first with the mouth, cheeks and chin. Erasing and shading took care of that, the most difficult phase of the piece.<br />
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Next came the overcoat, the white shirt and the pants. I started on the black background to add some contrast, then did the microphone.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ6ictyDjzvnfoSvhxoOpbmuNs0TO7QgvUDQGU_dqxiozeKZO0NjGQ7IVQy5NJasfNwadB4RUmcU4HfJ-Q3pS3kGMVkhl5dz83s8_T_EkNVJyc5m3l2CY7Om3pYdx2VLpKUY0AgdQneU1i/s1600/IMG_0925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ6ictyDjzvnfoSvhxoOpbmuNs0TO7QgvUDQGU_dqxiozeKZO0NjGQ7IVQy5NJasfNwadB4RUmcU4HfJ-Q3pS3kGMVkhl5dz83s8_T_EkNVJyc5m3l2CY7Om3pYdx2VLpKUY0AgdQneU1i/s640/IMG_0925.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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The dark background was problematic and exhausting, completely wearing down my last three Wallace Special Dispatch 251 pencils from 1940-50 -- the blackest lead I have ever seen (They were made for newspaper editing). I then dabbed over the black markings with an eraser and smudged it all to create the illusion of background, fog, audience, spotlights ,,, wherever your imagination takes you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlJYQdJkSLZGXHDJiNRbJg4cvTxxh55er-Hp-NVRWYK-80nP3_GhdSS1Td__bTt6FZLN2aaTh3KvHs7QrRcYz90Z6Dd6J4sVZklpcmlWVHyut0VadWdFyj35iNqCt4E9wv09qaqQWA2zA/s1600/IMG_0926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlJYQdJkSLZGXHDJiNRbJg4cvTxxh55er-Hp-NVRWYK-80nP3_GhdSS1Td__bTt6FZLN2aaTh3KvHs7QrRcYz90Z6Dd6J4sVZklpcmlWVHyut0VadWdFyj35iNqCt4E9wv09qaqQWA2zA/s640/IMG_0926.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Because this picture is so dark, you can really see the deep pencil lines if you look at it in the right light.<br />
The groove is so great.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>This illustration is available for $180 locally. Contact willstom01@gmail.com </i></span></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnoJnY9G8eXNVvDjSlTaMDcpPnjAIxZjEETAmGVRAjx2-8zzhj3Gk8UuudJ9XyTMN_NCewsw2stATG6qWFDSSUiAxx_iUBpOwhdtmrZQ4gv1o8ylbcdZ4uwNG1CXoS8JP_A0Y-tFZzIOC/s1600/IMG_0927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnoJnY9G8eXNVvDjSlTaMDcpPnjAIxZjEETAmGVRAjx2-8zzhj3Gk8UuudJ9XyTMN_NCewsw2stATG6qWFDSSUiAxx_iUBpOwhdtmrZQ4gv1o8ylbcdZ4uwNG1CXoS8JP_A0Y-tFZzIOC/s640/IMG_0927.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grooves. And the death of a pencil.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><b>Video: Writer(s): JAMES BROWN, BOBBY BYRD</b></i></span><br />
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Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-38390863971675785682019-01-10T08:16:00.001-08:002019-01-10T08:16:18.489-08:00Thanks, from me to you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0tTscGWt8NHXojSZaYdPEHllvcJJ2POYFrViYL4YXkKk-M594AtOMokHQ6NvY2tBVNIrKRLWlUPz3DWhfjtyNyeuFXYq2PISh2mq0B8T8-p5fRDGGBkyxwoo-IexsJAQ4FtFBaIijIJV/s1600/tomdrawbest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0tTscGWt8NHXojSZaYdPEHllvcJJ2POYFrViYL4YXkKk-M594AtOMokHQ6NvY2tBVNIrKRLWlUPz3DWhfjtyNyeuFXYq2PISh2mq0B8T8-p5fRDGGBkyxwoo-IexsJAQ4FtFBaIijIJV/s640/tomdrawbest.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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On Feb. 19, 2010, I started my blog, <a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="asynclazy" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Ftomwillsproductions.blogspot.com%2F%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR0IBN3tSakDw6NS_YJ8wwH0MX4q_Jv8NjD11_0GACgQ8AHDWXip7fhkADQ&h=AT123Nw90nHedOuyR5SxM8kPobNtacpjUVTuqPjJ3lkFVFFZDdyV-B56ohMYehGwidF7HbEXLosf2Pm5WhL4mf_mr8sjouHlye4T5-beK2FLWLEoRKLBNAzGFLXSJrDPI1Br2XT3H4Dvn1Du1FQGN042PSvC2FvSjA" href="https://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/?fbclid=IwAR0IBN3tSakDw6NS_YJ8wwH0MX4q_Jv8NjD11_0GACgQ8AHDWXip7fhkADQ" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/</a><br /> to share thoughts about my art and music, wondering if anyone would be interested.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkTnZkTDDhhjGRr0M0v6Mh0CmVxwu_OnCkomdVdNxufPtIWdqlsSZc-XRtUaEjXHLvlO7HqzMmtcEH7m-DriSpLQybcgi-Eb5fF03pi6UqWMkDLhSE5aW05tLH7wpmJR29ZYeGe1VQY7P/s1600/FullSizeRender+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="494" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkTnZkTDDhhjGRr0M0v6Mh0CmVxwu_OnCkomdVdNxufPtIWdqlsSZc-XRtUaEjXHLvlO7HqzMmtcEH7m-DriSpLQybcgi-Eb5fF03pi6UqWMkDLhSE5aW05tLH7wpmJR29ZYeGe1VQY7P/s640/FullSizeRender+%25281%2529.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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Today, the site reached 70,000 unique page views. Maybe it’s the
pictures, perhaps it’s the words and possibly it’s the way I try to make
them work together.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2eR6TkbidGAEF_jzW4LqrTMxB_Btu3Tqxdxof6d8RNcisd_TGd6tC3aSODY4r8OWpq9wX-KqBvrLguVq22vCWvulfGTJ80hrGVRQFktW_UDohnjnotLv9foeT6suLiooZ0VPlkcohzhmI/s1600/cuba8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2eR6TkbidGAEF_jzW4LqrTMxB_Btu3Tqxdxof6d8RNcisd_TGd6tC3aSODY4r8OWpq9wX-KqBvrLguVq22vCWvulfGTJ80hrGVRQFktW_UDohnjnotLv9foeT6suLiooZ0VPlkcohzhmI/s640/cuba8.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
<br /> If you’re among the clickers and scrollers, your presence is beyond gratifying. I’ll try to keep you entertained.<br /> We all have our gifts, and some say my art is a gift. I enjoy sharing it with you.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5hp6dAyqd9Ng3SOfKdJUtBErAw5g4kXyREJpq7bysLPBEmK7jGNMxRPrhtpy2RBFP8y_yRj9dXbK1nAor-gFWAv7DqISTfIID88y7XrURJBpfwBW2uA2fCJzLXBWEQOKz9clgGzm0inMU/s1600/tomduke1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1395" data-original-width="1078" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5hp6dAyqd9Ng3SOfKdJUtBErAw5g4kXyREJpq7bysLPBEmK7jGNMxRPrhtpy2RBFP8y_yRj9dXbK1nAor-gFWAv7DqISTfIID88y7XrURJBpfwBW2uA2fCJzLXBWEQOKz9clgGzm0inMU/s640/tomduke1.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-43892054119880114612018-12-29T11:03:00.000-08:002018-12-29T11:03:20.678-08:00No. 416, Toby's Ocean Star<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4tRfhdHAqnFkejH7vJH9mkIoK4gSrdwuK0FVeR7eRwEk_3Bfrk05CLPUDb2iUe_WkE1K6zs3LOH6yarbSXcLuyQVi-_NpsLm62NribvqPBOrYgi4rqlUjVOUaTdxdmLhBfP0_Kqh9ZhP/s1600/IMG_9082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4tRfhdHAqnFkejH7vJH9mkIoK4gSrdwuK0FVeR7eRwEk_3Bfrk05CLPUDb2iUe_WkE1K6zs3LOH6yarbSXcLuyQVi-_NpsLm62NribvqPBOrYgi4rqlUjVOUaTdxdmLhBfP0_Kqh9ZhP/s640/IMG_9082.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 416, Toby's Ocean Star by Tom Wills, July 2018.</td></tr>
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I have a childhood friend who has always been an adventurer and traveler, who found love and family overseas. When we were kids we had lesser adventures but still a little edgy, on boats and canoes on rivers and lakes. While I chose a safe haven at home, he chose a Navy uniform, the oceans and deserts and sky.<br />
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Somewhere along the way, in Spain, he married and had a son, and grew close to his father-in-law, who is pictured here. Maybe it's because his own dad had a boat and liked adventures.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIv9aZxoMWK1x0KOnI66OiL4USg6nnEWLSZPAsdmnr9M9p5xWFy6Exq-VeQHQpziX2JIMf0B07mgwOjq-xRshCMVqtG5TncFO1AlG3Gs-Y2_XgiRShD_qPRL0zhuBKtQY_kjdo8sVqKLwQ/s1600/IMG_9035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIv9aZxoMWK1x0KOnI66OiL4USg6nnEWLSZPAsdmnr9M9p5xWFy6Exq-VeQHQpziX2JIMf0B07mgwOjq-xRshCMVqtG5TncFO1AlG3Gs-Y2_XgiRShD_qPRL0zhuBKtQY_kjdo8sVqKLwQ/s640/IMG_9035.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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I don't know much about the captain here or the occasion for the photo, or why it's a favorite that my buddy of nearly five decades wanted drawn. It's Toby's Ocean Star, drawn from a cell phone photo taken in a far, far away place.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAqyzIt2yScFURqkPjutrZZ-8TDraQKfPq4Uw7VIim-_e-KqOXVC9xvGKBgpFE797dfv4xBeSKoPaKDf4BcMlLwKEUDBCUVV3rEqU7dGcsMw8GcOdClFGrKLKXPfSt85eQfM81mqIqMZ1/s1600/IMG_9048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbAqyzIt2yScFURqkPjutrZZ-8TDraQKfPq4Uw7VIim-_e-KqOXVC9xvGKBgpFE797dfv4xBeSKoPaKDf4BcMlLwKEUDBCUVV3rEqU7dGcsMw8GcOdClFGrKLKXPfSt85eQfM81mqIqMZ1/s640/IMG_9048.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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The picture was a little grainy and a lot washed out, so it took some imagination to bring out the details of Toby's cap, khakis and the hardware on the Ocean Star. I started with the face and emailed images to make sure it looked like him.<br />
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There was a lot of shading involved to capture the sunlight on those pockets and on the chrome. Some guess work was involved, too, to fill out his cap and the boat wheel.<br />
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For a black and white rendering, though, it does capture the sun, and maybe the waves and open air and, I hope, a sense of adventure.<br />
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This one was sent to Spain for Christmas. It is my most-traveled piece.<br />
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<br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-4211225153882753702018-12-25T05:33:00.000-08:002018-12-25T05:33:04.366-08:00No. 425: Steampunk Mary<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8oHkcuxX3Wzu379RCbiEaIz81xwVPV1RvSOwvn0CvRy-5FUxjwKuJ_wERtU_cVm4pXDA3ItOiwYXxnGD4TtFeIe9IiL1_Ucc8xdeIvoJmSKplNnthhDv_TD_Dnzz81hkJuVQCOPFA4-A/s1600/IMG_0315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8oHkcuxX3Wzu379RCbiEaIz81xwVPV1RvSOwvn0CvRy-5FUxjwKuJ_wERtU_cVm4pXDA3ItOiwYXxnGD4TtFeIe9IiL1_Ucc8xdeIvoJmSKplNnthhDv_TD_Dnzz81hkJuVQCOPFA4-A/s640/IMG_0315.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steampunk Mary by Tom Wills, October 2018, watercolor and ink.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtS-UyJ03EFXV8oXX9cKUeWgCqayHLdFJwITIi3XmMWsJwKXvPwnOB6FsDFpKp8sLlmBot0R_13JWhUEkNV6BZXuZLWaoSNErV3BThlxqCGVCvucKZPMdDLkl7WBZzuF3f9ft7gJx-9Rc/s1600/IMG_1117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtS-UyJ03EFXV8oXX9cKUeWgCqayHLdFJwITIi3XmMWsJwKXvPwnOB6FsDFpKp8sLlmBot0R_13JWhUEkNV6BZXuZLWaoSNErV3BThlxqCGVCvucKZPMdDLkl7WBZzuF3f9ft7gJx-9Rc/s320/IMG_1117.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mary" Christmas!</td></tr>
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Do you remember the story of this vintage frame and its painstaking restoration? It's here:<br />
<a href="http://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2018/11/the-frame-as-art.html">http://tomwillsproductions.blogspot.com/2018/11/the-frame-as-art.html</a><br />
It turns out that I had a plan for this amazing frame, all along.<br />
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This is Mary, and she likes steampunk-y things, and I think she will really dig this frame and portrait. Her husband commissioned the painting and I restored the frame specifically for this piece. Merry Christmas, Mary!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHb3xudTrICBCLhIDFjafhkVZjSKZ37-zNrhQSjjrvKpn7FqIeJZu2e793WaiI8J6jOLqYt5PECqf6Dn7u8eaSOItwCpvrCyKdMKKVH7-bM3Ac4f3gcqfZHtjrorYm2shzGVwxj2ktC3e/s1600/IMG_0234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHb3xudTrICBCLhIDFjafhkVZjSKZ37-zNrhQSjjrvKpn7FqIeJZu2e793WaiI8J6jOLqYt5PECqf6Dn7u8eaSOItwCpvrCyKdMKKVH7-bM3Ac4f3gcqfZHtjrorYm2shzGVwxj2ktC3e/s640/IMG_0234.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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The idea here was to reproduce a favorite photograph and all of its steam-y attributes: The clothing, the pipes, the feather, the bricks, the accessories. Hubby insisted that it be full color, so a pencil sketch was out of the question -- although that's how this one started.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYC_AO6d7EY-l89PdWIP9hl_ebDB62FIcjsZxJDzJRjL0d3M9J3lVcxE610dZlgaqD9ugebCGeta-bKrN3tDRgoHutcgXYW2BuRWB-AxbLlixqHjeavrTtnwnMsiUd9f2BPLTA0GzwQMIe/s1600/IMG_0104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYC_AO6d7EY-l89PdWIP9hl_ebDB62FIcjsZxJDzJRjL0d3M9J3lVcxE610dZlgaqD9ugebCGeta-bKrN3tDRgoHutcgXYW2BuRWB-AxbLlixqHjeavrTtnwnMsiUd9f2BPLTA0GzwQMIe/s400/IMG_0104.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRiAq3Po7JVxnoFPxeqoG6YV83w2f38BbhQoKcncW7oFhBU2m7giLdVCA1eWvrhSCRQDaIszB3cIjjn8kVUI3X0oIWjdfg0lTA2M6Uza9TrSRV1o9oUXuIPLknwcxjcv7-WHKgkdhAaoR/s1600/IMG_0114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRiAq3Po7JVxnoFPxeqoG6YV83w2f38BbhQoKcncW7oFhBU2m7giLdVCA1eWvrhSCRQDaIszB3cIjjn8kVUI3X0oIWjdfg0lTA2M6Uza9TrSRV1o9oUXuIPLknwcxjcv7-WHKgkdhAaoR/s400/IMG_0114.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ink and pencil</td></tr>
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After the sketch was done, I added ink. I figured I would do the darkest, most intricate parts first in ink, and then paint over them. The permanence of the ink assured that the paints would not smudge the black lines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUOQ7yFccsVrmYiQaHjWOtThQ0PlZbsrLRN-EZ_w5KWZaj5uMfMn4g5uvNSlG-Km-Wy_0aHX5w9SXWBdzyTipapqpnEdhhUoHNGiHzZJMyB26v3KoM14ByO35_oAm3GJdmcQRr_0Sqhus/s1600/IMG_0136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFUOQ7yFccsVrmYiQaHjWOtThQ0PlZbsrLRN-EZ_w5KWZaj5uMfMn4g5uvNSlG-Km-Wy_0aHX5w9SXWBdzyTipapqpnEdhhUoHNGiHzZJMyB26v3KoM14ByO35_oAm3GJdmcQRr_0Sqhus/s640/IMG_0136.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darker details of clothing, bricks and pipes penciled in.</td></tr>
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Slowly, day by day, I added layers upon layers of color and detail. Hubby had me refine certain elements of her face and attire, and we shipped a lot of photos back and forth. He was very specific and I grew more determined to make this happen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibW3WcPEX7nuv9VL1xjpdLrfksQsQpjSPFX6WUv78zwyJvrGxq_oHmxD220uQp1W5P-1xE69qAAiHKmHCQR3TRKTOvBzMP-0WnqBHYd6r-noYk5JOcB9FBpJhvHVKvoeqixXmdW2cXLO9a/s1600/IMG_0154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibW3WcPEX7nuv9VL1xjpdLrfksQsQpjSPFX6WUv78zwyJvrGxq_oHmxD220uQp1W5P-1xE69qAAiHKmHCQR3TRKTOvBzMP-0WnqBHYd6r-noYk5JOcB9FBpJhvHVKvoeqixXmdW2cXLO9a/s640/IMG_0154.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painted to fit this specific, still-unrestored, vintage frame.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pkbxxkC6oJEfTkjEe-j-A7v0UHhdzAN_9xZoxgOP8afItksUOZdT2Z7C0lcOPxvMaZb6rHo-nQbI29j_K7eSYGk0R3iM6epVETzPN01XShUHPyn-XM4oLg8ZL9p9vXJUz2drUIMZSKIA/s1600/IMG_0171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-pkbxxkC6oJEfTkjEe-j-A7v0UHhdzAN_9xZoxgOP8afItksUOZdT2Z7C0lcOPxvMaZb6rHo-nQbI29j_K7eSYGk0R3iM6epVETzPN01XShUHPyn-XM4oLg8ZL9p9vXJUz2drUIMZSKIA/s640/IMG_0171.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtkNf1I2RmRPG8rHrUZqA9zfpI6jXMTmtTUu04VyUcD5E6M7ZphdfJMxXiawRpKX-zJHN0DJej0ZrNDMkQLijx2HAeWbGdzJ5Mlx9tL9Sv5y6TkdXXPBe6N32ys0s-5y4ketz5xe-Uq54/s1600/IMG_0189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgtkNf1I2RmRPG8rHrUZqA9zfpI6jXMTmtTUu04VyUcD5E6M7ZphdfJMxXiawRpKX-zJHN0DJej0ZrNDMkQLijx2HAeWbGdzJ5Mlx9tL9Sv5y6TkdXXPBe6N32ys0s-5y4ketz5xe-Uq54/s640/IMG_0189.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see the details emerging on the clothing.</td></tr>
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Once the clothes were together, I went back and refined the arms and hands, face and pipes, jewelry and gun.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1WoFr00ltLTRGMOQM9U0eta3r4MqNkkZaOI8Itx2mbDVGNpR6pryf2YYHg3XBlSe_Cp6BfA2FFVRp3CUFQSAw74m0bWj-wqyiFG6K0I8WzzBtkRXnPExqZmHYhV-uxvi_Psvgx5Prb6o/s1600/IMG_0228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1117" data-original-width="1280" height="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1WoFr00ltLTRGMOQM9U0eta3r4MqNkkZaOI8Itx2mbDVGNpR6pryf2YYHg3XBlSe_Cp6BfA2FFVRp3CUFQSAw74m0bWj-wqyiFG6K0I8WzzBtkRXnPExqZmHYhV-uxvi_Psvgx5Prb6o/s640/IMG_0228.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capturing the light.</td></tr>
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You can see how the face evolved from the first pencil and ink rendering at the very top of this blog. The painting captures the light's reflection on hirt cheeks and chin, and in her eyes. A drawing, I must agree, would have looked too flat in this instance.<br />
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Another difficult piece for a fairly demanding client that, this time, I was able to turn into two works of art: The painting and its frame, complementing each other to produce a vintage-looking image in a frame that's 120 to 140 years old.<br />
This is a Christmas gift that will last another century.Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-28477795397904060662018-12-24T17:58:00.000-08:002018-12-24T17:58:10.380-08:00Nos. 417 & 418: Seeing Double<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1g8KQvedxYpvl6VFcD8beGgAf283yMdii1EgtWAyVhtkHI_xnVK6G9QMLeS1sHoHsS_Fkjc3xGD1Cq2laZYzUHFHDZdXK7kTA-f-D7l5jfkT-IGyfm78TgunLQ7EOWqX16FG1F_jd6qok/s1600/IMG_9337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="1600" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1g8KQvedxYpvl6VFcD8beGgAf283yMdii1EgtWAyVhtkHI_xnVK6G9QMLeS1sHoHsS_Fkjc3xGD1Cq2laZYzUHFHDZdXK7kTA-f-D7l5jfkT-IGyfm78TgunLQ7EOWqX16FG1F_jd6qok/s640/IMG_9337.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you tell the difference?</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoTD_EKJzvzn3kgEEmiTYJzcNYM7eKTFVlxYreRwYjaHveKhHQHy5u_LKl-8CvNXdUNMPgL5YoM77Ehp7HuUdHE1bYReTN0Xv-d9JfzXi1JTpYG5ODjWXm8U7eG6X3hY-AkbnaMhD1AbL/s1600/IMG_1113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="956" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoTD_EKJzvzn3kgEEmiTYJzcNYM7eKTFVlxYreRwYjaHveKhHQHy5u_LKl-8CvNXdUNMPgL5YoM77Ehp7HuUdHE1bYReTN0Xv-d9JfzXi1JTpYG5ODjWXm8U7eG6X3hY-AkbnaMhD1AbL/s640/IMG_1113.jpg" width="478" /></a></div>
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These two gave me double vision!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMNwwKJeMLWkhWJ2ngeBWGYZFTUmTUuFfpduIYv6sJBBsZoefs0As20yiJB8dfnOyFIo8u7WMO9-ttPau-z-WrYjJG3T4sNr8JiiVcSfzao5nLkc4qWZTqhwZKPHVfAAhUIFeke7FqcLT/s1600/IMG_9334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1600" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMNwwKJeMLWkhWJ2ngeBWGYZFTUmTUuFfpduIYv6sJBBsZoefs0As20yiJB8dfnOyFIo8u7WMO9-ttPau-z-WrYjJG3T4sNr8JiiVcSfzao5nLkc4qWZTqhwZKPHVfAAhUIFeke7FqcLT/s640/IMG_9334.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Subtly different frames.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicVxkqhfckuV07FN9gZQFtSvqThqMznaglif91rr7Go13GkTYsouzfbt-ETIBTWwC1mNOKD0QvFkvi16o8kVpuFTGTW4EqEEdZKKZ7PxjIQs0FjfEACcw2Hb9XZVZW02G5cIImAr8xpltj/s1600/twogifts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="1280" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicVxkqhfckuV07FN9gZQFtSvqThqMznaglif91rr7Go13GkTYsouzfbt-ETIBTWwC1mNOKD0QvFkvi16o8kVpuFTGTW4EqEEdZKKZ7PxjIQs0FjfEACcw2Hb9XZVZW02G5cIImAr8xpltj/s640/twogifts.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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In a very sweet gesture, a stepmom hired me to draw her husband’s two daughters with their mom, who is deceased. She wanted the girls to know that she accepts and understands their mother will always be “mom.” For her part, she wanted the girls to get equal treatment for Christmas: Two identical drawings, done at the same time, in similar frames.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Double vision!</td></tr>
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I thought about doing one, and then the other. But I decided it would be more efficient, and more accurate, to do them both simultaneously. So I set up the papers and pencils on separate drawing boards and got started, doing the eyes and hairlines first — as usual.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYr7_nO4zJKDtMPMSnCk7KctPDTjv6W-wTg2cDZbxAdtqiLG0YwJO1od2Xin8XoDYC-_uK7hoSXpKTeJPRmBMcCvYl3eHwV_KPIB3tsf8tJV4JeNC-gGP1n_1c7XG36k6QpLTf9BQhAE2W/s1600/IMG_9214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYr7_nO4zJKDtMPMSnCk7KctPDTjv6W-wTg2cDZbxAdtqiLG0YwJO1od2Xin8XoDYC-_uK7hoSXpKTeJPRmBMcCvYl3eHwV_KPIB3tsf8tJV4JeNC-gGP1n_1c7XG36k6QpLTf9BQhAE2W/s400/IMG_9214.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Labeled, like identical twins.</td></tr>
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Photos would be sent back and forth to the customer, with Post-It notes attached so that we could tell the drawings apart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMScbfL78v25YZOXzw1YZlz-EL0s6mlv7UaYfCAvvl-s4UBL85nhV_msv7o7P8Zfs-1MPiCuaoYW7DN4s4rfa_YbWRkyTtBPUQNbJq9RCEq3mkvaYfI_9q7FzHo6pZzxA8FTTHizbIJLqK/s1600/IMG_9294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1233" data-original-width="1280" height="616" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMScbfL78v25YZOXzw1YZlz-EL0s6mlv7UaYfCAvvl-s4UBL85nhV_msv7o7P8Zfs-1MPiCuaoYW7DN4s4rfa_YbWRkyTtBPUQNbJq9RCEq3mkvaYfI_9q7FzHo6pZzxA8FTTHizbIJLqK/s640/IMG_9294.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 418</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvA6FpDX94MAvrlIIH-h_M8p_hHMKAD2U2RX90bAbMnCEgdpqd8uUbKCie3RM9rF2HHQhyphenhyphen4iF750WbewZefignkcFMGOU1dvYvhsK6XrV0hs5X1QGHCBXysCel6byBSn15WnYIQMEgJ5CI/s1600/IMG_9295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1180" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvA6FpDX94MAvrlIIH-h_M8p_hHMKAD2U2RX90bAbMnCEgdpqd8uUbKCie3RM9rF2HHQhyphenhyphen4iF750WbewZefignkcFMGOU1dvYvhsK6XrV0hs5X1QGHCBXysCel6byBSn15WnYIQMEgJ5CI/s640/IMG_9295.jpg" width="590" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No. 417</td></tr>
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Soon I was shading in cheekbones and eyebrows, and other facial details. I’d move from desk to desk, cheek to cheek, nose to nose.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Jo523T-FGHRd1ZFG3vx9UtEVekSFrSQHwZyZ3gitsOTjznWLGyy5UeJEpDVxPwzz_OV0Z1BimPyTmz-XalOM1QdOGnAT8RlPdQvvNv92XaJGzTRADYOm1pgDKklRFIQaIBHr6oRavu7e/s1600/IMG_9009.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Jo523T-FGHRd1ZFG3vx9UtEVekSFrSQHwZyZ3gitsOTjznWLGyy5UeJEpDVxPwzz_OV0Z1BimPyTmz-XalOM1QdOGnAT8RlPdQvvNv92XaJGzTRADYOm1pgDKklRFIQaIBHr6oRavu7e/s400/IMG_9009.PNG" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo I was given to work from.</td></tr>
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After a couple of weeks they were finished — not identical, but as close to that as possible. No two drawings are ever alike!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhD1TgiwqySrNlyvGPE6qx3NFnXirn8anoO3Ow1H16EWnQGPI_7j_RMFvebF2jcHBvDaUfAmAh7hSjVAVa5jf_yYVRII_ke7owG_rp8kqqIN1x6fCZrcTTepQxkKu5Tz9Xy1uzPdD08Oe/s1600/IMG_9323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhD1TgiwqySrNlyvGPE6qx3NFnXirn8anoO3Ow1H16EWnQGPI_7j_RMFvebF2jcHBvDaUfAmAh7hSjVAVa5jf_yYVRII_ke7owG_rp8kqqIN1x6fCZrcTTepQxkKu5Tz9Xy1uzPdD08Oe/s640/IMG_9323.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fitting the frame.</td></tr>
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The drawings are numbered and labeled separately, and the frames though similar are also slightly different to help tell them apart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWqO0shlf_R-2BjYPJ1LJc7CD7FCaWmeKM2G9is_v9QxmU9LFqFQugjRGwkruVkENUqmh9n8uGaP02YSVC5yWb1BSwldnYeV8CfSsV3ahvTj5or-QI7QSZUJH-pPSGxzOl50gv8JDdGW9/s1600/IMG_9222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="1280" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIWqO0shlf_R-2BjYPJ1LJc7CD7FCaWmeKM2G9is_v9QxmU9LFqFQugjRGwkruVkENUqmh9n8uGaP02YSVC5yWb1BSwldnYeV8CfSsV3ahvTj5or-QI7QSZUJH-pPSGxzOl50gv8JDdGW9/s400/IMG_9222.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Details emerging.</td></tr>
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These had been under wraps since August but were finally unwrapped at Christmas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ten1WdL3szcBJFJVZXVtHhQ-yZOuWVzD40JBCaTmg33QFubkCPR4UfGSsWVslWRt9HaW1ceRqHdtXWPXtzEgh5Mxv228l66IDcHR3hWz2n0PF6hGdjA1dZ23_0UOpXX90d_Zt5OUxZ62/s1600/IMG_9335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ten1WdL3szcBJFJVZXVtHhQ-yZOuWVzD40JBCaTmg33QFubkCPR4UfGSsWVslWRt9HaW1ceRqHdtXWPXtzEgh5Mxv228l66IDcHR3hWz2n0PF6hGdjA1dZ23_0UOpXX90d_Zt5OUxZ62/s640/IMG_9335.jpg" width="546" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NAwmUPldOzC6R4pVR1ioUl3kANpoWtZyI8gM2e-D6MgI2qJWiT-z0_9wKdlR8x2KmUItqdThv6izFRhnhKGjjA_8vykdwUNCviQj9VSXK4qtligwE3gtjkBRIkjwdFmQjTqS5Dl6obMY/s1600/IMG_9336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1528" data-original-width="1224" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NAwmUPldOzC6R4pVR1ioUl3kANpoWtZyI8gM2e-D6MgI2qJWiT-z0_9wKdlR8x2KmUItqdThv6izFRhnhKGjjA_8vykdwUNCviQj9VSXK4qtligwE3gtjkBRIkjwdFmQjTqS5Dl6obMY/s640/IMG_9336.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
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All three ladies look very nice. And this was such a nice gesture, a wonderful idea. I was glad to make it happen.Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2233948482625424089.post-59592191115100191962018-12-12T07:07:00.002-08:002019-01-09T06:59:57.870-08:00No. 429, Hot 'n' Cool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEuycQqJ3tv4QFX__mDV7jzQ3XsJGSKWduQKFDNTYiQvZYb8_P6m7DpHfJ1S47sCAaeTj2CUnIpVCSoQ-1ySifaGarim6usQyPEHElwl0TZf9dLViXR7tGDlTvGNnur5qwiwu_u46aT5A/s1600/IMG_0868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEuycQqJ3tv4QFX__mDV7jzQ3XsJGSKWduQKFDNTYiQvZYb8_P6m7DpHfJ1S47sCAaeTj2CUnIpVCSoQ-1ySifaGarim6usQyPEHElwl0TZf9dLViXR7tGDlTvGNnur5qwiwu_u46aT5A/s640/IMG_0868.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<div data-block="true" data-editor="761es" data-offset-key="139li-0-0" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "helvetica","arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="139li-0-0" style="direction: ltr; font-family: Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><span data-offset-key="139li-0-0" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>Dig, if you will, kiddos.</i> </span></span><span data-offset-key="9skrn-0-0" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>It's 1959 or '60. You are in a dark, smoke-choked and crowded room. The drinks are watered down.</i> </span></span><span data-offset-key="3euaj-0-0" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>But you're watching titans blow each other, and those around you, away. </i></span></span><span data-offset-key="6n9sh-0-0" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span data-text="true" style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>John Coltrane and Miles Davis. </i></span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatyzcjRPBh9nRIeH6wYpJM1AqEkIxJollRAWd18p62IP48eN5exP-u7c8MjFJ9ZT-wXKFcQWGWIWpdSkKRK_Ve6XKQ7wlQ4uaIj2oj44jC27IIwe-Q02HrzlrO5RCZQRfwVmFefBf9t3u/s1600/IMG_0848.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1147" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjatyzcjRPBh9nRIeH6wYpJM1AqEkIxJollRAWd18p62IP48eN5exP-u7c8MjFJ9ZT-wXKFcQWGWIWpdSkKRK_Ve6XKQ7wlQ4uaIj2oj44jC27IIwe-Q02HrzlrO5RCZQRfwVmFefBf9t3u/s640/IMG_0848.jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot 'n' Cool by Tom Wills, watercolor, December 2018.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Originally No. 429 was going to be called “Birth of the Cool.” I liked the sound of it and, I thought, the history behind it.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXO9tRmLgR-YJBQOO33mwlHAfQG-M-CVh62KeWlNYcJ72QrV7veJd8ExLn4v7LCsmT7C5sC67wBtXPKLniSDS4isGiPfn4CSzCx4mlJp675SxmpmDv5i1x0kMq-Rtot-6u52dFXFQfDadM/s1600/IMG_0849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXO9tRmLgR-YJBQOO33mwlHAfQG-M-CVh62KeWlNYcJ72QrV7veJd8ExLn4v7LCsmT7C5sC67wBtXPKLniSDS4isGiPfn4CSzCx4mlJp675SxmpmDv5i1x0kMq-Rtot-6u52dFXFQfDadM/s400/IMG_0849.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But it turns out that this painting does not actually document the “Birth of the Cool.” That was Miles Davis’ thing, much earlier in 1949-50, and the title of a famous compilation album of those post-bebop “cool jazz” performances released in 1957.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJfvqj0Vedl0xxdyNId86t63g77N0DRutJp-_iWAZRsMi8g_S_rBvSZxZcjP4AxiQQ5BEGavKKswcj6kOBD7BQnM1vhJzJUM3JoTasyQvjnv23EvAYchz_t4Zfa0raienBot8qzYJuFaE/s1600/IMG_0850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYJfvqj0Vedl0xxdyNId86t63g77N0DRutJp-_iWAZRsMi8g_S_rBvSZxZcjP4AxiQQ5BEGavKKswcj6kOBD7BQnM1vhJzJUM3JoTasyQvjnv23EvAYchz_t4Zfa0raienBot8qzYJuFaE/s400/IMG_0850.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Trane</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i>“I first met Miles Davis about 1947 and played a few jobs with him and Sonny Rollins at the Audubon Ballroom in Manhattan. During this period, he was coming into his own, and I could see him extending the boundaries of jazz even further.”</i> — John Coltrane<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2o3AxrJJMaTAMHwzYJU93aPuCs_38qYy5S6AjhslgzIFkBupugsVQ8xosuqmeMUzEdAaLPbUWim_kdnYSZ-igANiBNY0ouEn6lg9WhKcTuCij_gNGEOw8CRSuLd6SUCOVbmzmrFMjslQ/s1600/IMG_0829.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX2o3AxrJJMaTAMHwzYJU93aPuCs_38qYy5S6AjhslgzIFkBupugsVQ8xosuqmeMUzEdAaLPbUWim_kdnYSZ-igANiBNY0ouEn6lg9WhKcTuCij_gNGEOw8CRSuLd6SUCOVbmzmrFMjslQ/s640/IMG_0829.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making the sax look brassy.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
A better title is really “Hot 'n' Cool,” Because that’s what Miles Davis and John Coltrane were in their nearly five years together, off and on (1955-1960). Their final tour was documented in a set of albums just this year, Miles' melodies and Coltrane’s frenzied workouts. And from the studio over those years emerged the great albums “‘Round About Midnight,” “Milestones,” “Jazz at the Plaza,” “Someday My Prince Will Come,” “Kind of Blue” and more.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkamcG9hwAAHIrzX-X3E1CkZd0aAk-frAVXWunvBdxCKpuvM871gd-XJgKcS8jpfNE43Phml8DC326YZArQfGBz-1QXQzy1BhPf1rvWXCOwsLMLO4eHkUlIUoEr5AviPREJaoVn355U9Im/s1600/IMG_0851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1012" data-original-width="1280" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkamcG9hwAAHIrzX-X3E1CkZd0aAk-frAVXWunvBdxCKpuvM871gd-XJgKcS8jpfNE43Phml8DC326YZArQfGBz-1QXQzy1BhPf1rvWXCOwsLMLO4eHkUlIUoEr5AviPREJaoVn355U9Im/s320/IMG_0851.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Still, theirs was not an easy relationship.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7o3bWYj56A6O9i4vAgID7RiASAeQmIabc4Sq0IV1PboOh-PXba4rRsr4VvzqxbB14VGTI6nKbiDt823TBvYs0HJN8MKNGEnWun2TiCDyZ5r6Hprn3wJbWeJ7fYVu-gpQcH8T1Tk8zuDmr/s1600/IMG_0801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1159" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7o3bWYj56A6O9i4vAgID7RiASAeQmIabc4Sq0IV1PboOh-PXba4rRsr4VvzqxbB14VGTI6nKbiDt823TBvYs0HJN8MKNGEnWun2TiCDyZ5r6Hprn3wJbWeJ7fYVu-gpQcH8T1Tk8zuDmr/s640/IMG_0801.jpg" width="462" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After a few basic washes of watercolor</td></tr>
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<i>“Sheets of sound. Well, that was when I got tired of certain modulations. Like when you want to get back to C, and you've got to go to D and then G and then C. I was fooling around with the piano, and I figured out some other way to do it.”</i> — Coltrane<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-IJFP88YoPmyJcicr5vjnuvPtyHXYfPPy9agus6dLsDuB8J0yDzUAMgB_E9DnU-SOFJ5YhKa44ywRlemMaNWYcM44XcXXbmmu3RabboO2fzHJoB_fkFcG1PYZYqasqzszg26iswgSD14/s1600/IMG_0808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-IJFP88YoPmyJcicr5vjnuvPtyHXYfPPy9agus6dLsDuB8J0yDzUAMgB_E9DnU-SOFJ5YhKa44ywRlemMaNWYcM44XcXXbmmu3RabboO2fzHJoB_fkFcG1PYZYqasqzszg26iswgSD14/s640/IMG_0808.jpg" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some definition begins.</td></tr>
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<i>"Try taking the fucking horn out of your mouth."</i> - Davis, questioning the increasing length of Coltrane’s solos.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhOJPugnOvPOp-eEHw2Jk-K6FFtE4Cl8mpzbdpG8o9AWGdKwYC_gEZuz_v3sLM6q9p8TW-XKKvttvUYcbdvoK7915-Ihlh98o2KBuvxnI_mFx6Kn0tR4L8HD0r__GQQPQsMlxxB2XcA90/s1600/IMG_0814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1154" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhOJPugnOvPOp-eEHw2Jk-K6FFtE4Cl8mpzbdpG8o9AWGdKwYC_gEZuz_v3sLM6q9p8TW-XKKvttvUYcbdvoK7915-Ihlh98o2KBuvxnI_mFx6Kn0tR4L8HD0r__GQQPQsMlxxB2XcA90/s640/IMG_0814.jpg" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some shadowing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The photo from which this painting is based was apparently taken on that final tour, or at least it was used by various publications in conjunction with reviewing or promoting those albums. You can see and sense Coltrane in shades drifting off into his own world, with an exasperated Davis trying to keep things grounded. Coltrane looms as a giant over Davis, just by their body positioning.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgt0ZdMyZr33wv1nlAJaMp-GXcoozzNEbviucThlyJhn9OrmTgekyxsPeuVFKy7tv_k1Uyb41CxHji11giKcABr7dEyXo-LwVeLwAtFh_ECLnW9saWQlFu201RoZgP0m0AzreUw8FR1rd8/s1600/IMG_0821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1107" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgt0ZdMyZr33wv1nlAJaMp-GXcoozzNEbviucThlyJhn9OrmTgekyxsPeuVFKy7tv_k1Uyb41CxHji11giKcABr7dEyXo-LwVeLwAtFh_ECLnW9saWQlFu201RoZgP0m0AzreUw8FR1rd8/s640/IMG_0821.jpg" width="442" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheekbones and hands begin.</td></tr>
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The basics of this painting came fast over seven hours on a Sunday, Dec. 9. I woke up early and sketched it out, made some color notes and started splashing watercolors. I used only shades of browns, golds, yellows, orange and black, adding water and white as I went. The idea was to create a more free image, less intent on details and precision and more interested in the feel of it. It took me four days.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ecgeINWbf8wnPKa4TtdHe3xFJ4YE_tnzNS_XdeuKx5uXIbhGO8Ja2bN6sovxFoPe5J_uwSyEikOkHNdU93yNRAvodgQc-GRyq3c-r4D0-4hPOOyRchIciAsRjk3w93sZk4A61xx5sfut/s1600/IMG_0812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ecgeINWbf8wnPKa4TtdHe3xFJ4YE_tnzNS_XdeuKx5uXIbhGO8Ja2bN6sovxFoPe5J_uwSyEikOkHNdU93yNRAvodgQc-GRyq3c-r4D0-4hPOOyRchIciAsRjk3w93sZk4A61xx5sfut/s640/IMG_0812.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adding some yellow to the sax.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4qLJ2QJgILJH4uL5cnYRa4CM39lefVZNj_cG8IpB394YsRQKm5wdAH3HP2iaLJMDT_f9SkdTug84o43-xhJ_wKT1xVQ4ENUQiT_1vTsdeKHfNeTNtAri9ESVFrfOX5pELi4StB7BXkOw/s1600/IMG_0835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4qLJ2QJgILJH4uL5cnYRa4CM39lefVZNj_cG8IpB394YsRQKm5wdAH3HP2iaLJMDT_f9SkdTug84o43-xhJ_wKT1xVQ4ENUQiT_1vTsdeKHfNeTNtAri9ESVFrfOX5pELi4StB7BXkOw/s400/IMG_0835.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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First came the black of the shades, hair and horns. The faces and the sax got a wash of orange, then browns and tan, and yellow. I roughed in those brown suits but really the light made Coltrane’s look more purple-black. So I added purple to the slurry of shades I’d created.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDE1Eyut2H9orFUeCxHeojELzfhD8K2iO-CMPOUkjd9MFFfjNEedLl9o2uZD5dudlKaw6Z_a4Nlpdt8gFNWoVL7wyXfWOVpUA2BBEHalYalWAFl2JJJ_9a8zkSMlSmi8IzZjQ-htpag0yb/s1600/IMG_0802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDE1Eyut2H9orFUeCxHeojELzfhD8K2iO-CMPOUkjd9MFFfjNEedLl9o2uZD5dudlKaw6Z_a4Nlpdt8gFNWoVL7wyXfWOVpUA2BBEHalYalWAFl2JJJ_9a8zkSMlSmi8IzZjQ-htpag0yb/s320/IMG_0802.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"slurry"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIj431DcBFQX-dRLVnvwnv2Ln98WXGM7V0PzF1ZRIyIkvR04BkxthrkhqWFQ8N9s3LPQDLGaPp0O9U5IPVZJAX_IQ7p3GLOHeLKBd59RTpmwsFgYEe67ugFe11hwSJhvkmbvlVVVZ9JAR/s1600/IMG_0811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIj431DcBFQX-dRLVnvwnv2Ln98WXGM7V0PzF1ZRIyIkvR04BkxthrkhqWFQ8N9s3LPQDLGaPp0O9U5IPVZJAX_IQ7p3GLOHeLKBd59RTpmwsFgYEe67ugFe11hwSJhvkmbvlVVVZ9JAR/s640/IMG_0811.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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I listened to their music together, and then apart, as the paints dried and more layers came: stage curtain, shadows, clothing creases, the suggestion of blurred hands moving rapidly over the valves and keys. I would paint, blot, dab, wipe, and paint again to create depth.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BsK0RJPryVsUPUZU0yYoZuIAz3UECs66xteVdXR9rwPK6p6u_QDoc-saGpEKl_wJYzbVnMQRxz_JjsNJwL3S9L57PvERoIZxtHM9j4w9laNZme96pcODwLi-FWH9bI45utj-9OCICgSb/s1600/IMG_0818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1529" data-original-width="1508" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8BsK0RJPryVsUPUZU0yYoZuIAz3UECs66xteVdXR9rwPK6p6u_QDoc-saGpEKl_wJYzbVnMQRxz_JjsNJwL3S9L57PvERoIZxtHM9j4w9laNZme96pcODwLi-FWH9bI45utj-9OCICgSb/s320/IMG_0818.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhoJdeDSaFYG3w78Tgfd12BoRfGxoxH0cqK8jFaRLgbYw9kk0Wr-lFHL_LW3IeySAWEtQZTHx_CkHc6LePg1nXdwkMRwL9kaS8UwL-5oBNUl8vry8Ja_R2_P83D1lh5lCDcU8wOYIgJGW/s1600/IMG_0819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdhoJdeDSaFYG3w78Tgfd12BoRfGxoxH0cqK8jFaRLgbYw9kk0Wr-lFHL_LW3IeySAWEtQZTHx_CkHc6LePg1nXdwkMRwL9kaS8UwL-5oBNUl8vry8Ja_R2_P83D1lh5lCDcU8wOYIgJGW/s320/IMG_0819.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highlighting their expressions.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Adding white and extra black to the faces brought out their expressions. More white brought out the shine of the horns, the crispness of the men’s collars and sleeves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5UYHWfa3uWi7XTJf2u8TsSyTVsskpN6hliJ8uSfp9trFvfgunHHh1Kcrts0yGYvlIVIhbolX7t80QnonHCWgDL_7JImSmLXy8pazlyAwym_Uv3roDl2KcnAgg8rQBDb4Xt5BO5K_6TPJ/s1600/IMG_0830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5UYHWfa3uWi7XTJf2u8TsSyTVsskpN6hliJ8uSfp9trFvfgunHHh1Kcrts0yGYvlIVIhbolX7t80QnonHCWgDL_7JImSmLXy8pazlyAwym_Uv3roDl2KcnAgg8rQBDb4Xt5BO5K_6TPJ/s320/IMG_0830.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZBKn0ePGeqZEp6hXLh5n2ABBi4mgM_OR6uj26nzifBmTCoubgwWy9sPBy-3gPikTecK2FxdFoK_SrQUz8BVdHVCD2fS5Q8KQtlwlI2kbpZKSqgNXxaNqZ0qy_X0AHOJnBhF67RJh4KUL/s1600/IMG_0832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZBKn0ePGeqZEp6hXLh5n2ABBi4mgM_OR6uj26nzifBmTCoubgwWy9sPBy-3gPikTecK2FxdFoK_SrQUz8BVdHVCD2fS5Q8KQtlwlI2kbpZKSqgNXxaNqZ0qy_X0AHOJnBhF67RJh4KUL/s400/IMG_0832.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAL9oRRhUL_qtU9PlqHIZvaGiZf7grIbnL_B0H5oyN9qUsqU2QNfmihTlrmNCnibQpCpvNxIOTd-bOyBfNVgB7LZuYzi0Nhso0Z_2lZT2dUIecvWUtBiSxZGYlcr-w29jRTxZOSrPJuEKO/s1600/IMG_0833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAL9oRRhUL_qtU9PlqHIZvaGiZf7grIbnL_B0H5oyN9qUsqU2QNfmihTlrmNCnibQpCpvNxIOTd-bOyBfNVgB7LZuYzi0Nhso0Z_2lZT2dUIecvWUtBiSxZGYlcr-w29jRTxZOSrPJuEKO/s320/IMG_0833.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Though I wanted that sax to “pop” from the image, that white was just too bright. So I used a really vivid shade of yellow to wash over the horns, then dabbed most of it off to create the look of brass.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFRdG3mbTICgp5tNWRuBA4AqUMDHT80nUiuyDoewqRVpN0wQRzw0A-k8Ikr8TPLfx6sjhNFWUsuWXdwUbBEMAEZGjKRKlCgSZ-7UeZ8ElC61NNMuOBNiJ2b9jPZNs96sONCoc8iFdP1D-d/s1600/cool+and+hot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1156" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFRdG3mbTICgp5tNWRuBA4AqUMDHT80nUiuyDoewqRVpN0wQRzw0A-k8Ikr8TPLfx6sjhNFWUsuWXdwUbBEMAEZGjKRKlCgSZ-7UeZ8ElC61NNMuOBNiJ2b9jPZNs96sONCoc8iFdP1D-d/s640/cool+and+hot.jpg" width="462" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horns before final detailing in black and brown.</td></tr>
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Lastly I did clean up some extra-rough edges and better define the folds of the stage curtain. But I resisted the urge to really tighten the lines and make them clean. I really wanted to try something new here, an improvisation if you will.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyVJD_GrsIbHbaNzV0Nu7-WEVRg5qQR-t7I_cnRSvny1dXrpfJL4VRB3P82BhEHMnx9d2VyLXN6zUS0021ZMKiHK1flkKR-WI3mPOellsCGM5V2t3TOCoNwVOTebBKm3r_A8SUwo1spf9/s1600/IMG_0846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyVJD_GrsIbHbaNzV0Nu7-WEVRg5qQR-t7I_cnRSvny1dXrpfJL4VRB3P82BhEHMnx9d2VyLXN6zUS0021ZMKiHK1flkKR-WI3mPOellsCGM5V2t3TOCoNwVOTebBKm3r_A8SUwo1spf9/s640/IMG_0846.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Curtains...</td></tr>
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These jazz masters were all about pushing boundaries and making new things happen. I’m hoping to really get to that in 2019.<br />
Happy New Year, all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62HjbHquUtF3-l80FeJ78RLMqPQFZ78MSRHZ4NxqnWkhBK3SZu7_f74uaE-NS5HqUM2oQrgtjd8D9a4ZYsDfDX6KqK6SUYjGlb5qNw5U8xBTfJtmmT3GObWYHaMFa8R81x-xKuzra-HgC/s1600/unframed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi62HjbHquUtF3-l80FeJ78RLMqPQFZ78MSRHZ4NxqnWkhBK3SZu7_f74uaE-NS5HqUM2oQrgtjd8D9a4ZYsDfDX6KqK6SUYjGlb5qNw5U8xBTfJtmmT3GObWYHaMFa8R81x-xKuzra-HgC/s640/unframed.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing to frame.</td></tr>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b>
<b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">This framed, sealed and signed original watercolor is for sale. The price is $230. You may inquire about it at willstom01@gmail.com</span></i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />Tom Willshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11894993845254456986noreply@blogger.com0