No. 276: Feel Flows

FEEL FLOWS By Tom Wills.  Watercolor, December 2014.

"Feel Flows" is a title that I stole from The Beach Boys. It's a dreamy, trippy song full of harmonies and a beat suggested by pulsing keyboards, rather than drums. Carl Wilson (not Brian) and Jack Rieley wrote it for the "Surf's Up" album (1971) and it makes use of reverse echo vocals. Carl is the only Beach Boy on it and plays everything.
The song, like this painting, is a solo act. It is very unlike any of the rest.

Click the link to play the song as you read about this painting.

"Feel Flows"


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bp_8GKcNvdQ
 
Unfolding enveloping missiles of soul
Recall senses sadly
Mirage like soft blue like lanterns below
To light the way gladly
Whether whistling heaven's clouds disappear
Where the wind withers memory
Whether whiteness whisks soft shadows away
Feel flows (White hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel goes (Black hot glistening shadowy flows)

A hand on the watercolor wash. But I deemed this too harsh.

One morning in December, I decided to start throwing watercolors onto the paper and took to smearing them around. Paint goblets soaked a t-shirt, the drawing table and the floor.
Later, for no real reason, I painted onto my grandson's palm and pressed it down, adding mine the next day. I also drew a human heart in the background.
Eventually I dribbled the paints and blew on them to make them run (making myself light-headed).

Starting to reach, not yet connected.

Unbending never ending tablets of time
Record all the yearning
Unfearing all appearing message divine
Eases the burning
Whether willing witness waits at my mind
Whether hope dampens memory
Whether wondrous will stands tall at my side
Feel flows (White hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel goes (Black hot glistening shadowy flows)

India ink makes the connections.

You might recall the red and blue from science books: Arteries and veins, carrying either oxygen-rich or oxygen-depleted blood through the body and to the heart and lungs in an unending cycle.
Look at your own hands: You can clearly see both.
The heart is made of India ink applied with a dip pen. It is permanent. The colors may fade but the heart will not.

Impressions on a heart.

Encasing all embracing wreath of repose
Engulfs all the senses
Imposing, unclosing thoughts that compose
Retire the fences
Whether wholly heartened life fades away
Whether harps heal the memory
Whether wholly heartened life fades away
Whether wondrous will stands tall at my side
Whether whiteness whisks soft shadows away
Feel goes (White hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel flows (Black hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feel goes (White hot glistening shadowy flows)
Feelings to grow (White hot glistening shadowy flows)

Published by
WILOJARSTON PUBLISHING

Heavy frame of porcelain cast onto wood, copper trim and a recessed mat.

Did the heart burst from joy or anguish? On some days, both.

With the growth of my art venture being the only exception, 2014 was not a good year for me personally.
There was a marriage of young people that I really wanted to happen, and already there is a divorce.
I lost a few friends, both physically and emotionally. Some closed the door to me, some left the planet.

All of my layers just ache.

You cannot, I have finally learned, force matters of the heart.

New discoveries.

Nor can I expect everyone to like the same thing.
My family hates this painting. It's weird, creepy and ugly, they say.
I'll admit that it's simple and amateurish. But it has meaning to me, at least.
In the end I think it is more happy than morbid.
In fact, I find it strangely beautiful. Each time I look at it there is some new discovery.
Here is my interpretation of the image, and you are free and encouraged to have your own:

Automatic.

The two hands, the older and more tired blue and the young and vibrant red, represent generations and time.  
The yellow represents energy, which dissipates.
The arteries and veins connecting both hands to the heart represent the passage of life: My blood flows through my daughter's body and, so, through my grandson's.
But I don't believe that it dilutes. I believe that it adds colors and qualities along the way, and that's what the rainbow drippings from the heart and hands represent. 
A pulse is a mysterious and wondrous thing that is automatic.
Feel flows. We don't even have to think about it. 

It does not dilute.

There will be more of me in 2015.  You hang in there, too.

"Reflection." There's a story coming here, too.

No. 264: The Reflecting Pool

REFLECTING POOL, No. 264, September 2014, Tom Wills by commission

I feel as though I crossed a threshold with this painting, "Reflecting Pool," No. 264, which was completed in September after four weeks of work. I had to keep it under wraps for months because it was a Christmas gift.

But I have been dying to show you.

REFLECTING POOL in matching mat and metal-paint frame.

I think I can now say that I am -- or can be -- a painter.  This is the biggest one yet, it was done on a commission and was framed professionally.  Six or seven smaller watercolors preceded it, but this was the first specifically sought by a customer.

"Worth every penny! It's stunning!"

The owner also writes:
"This is the building that houses the indoor pool at the Americano Beach Resort in Daytona Beach where we have vacationed every year since 1992. My parents bought into the timeshare a few years before they retired and my wife and I have joined them there for 22 years. It's an old-time hotel turned into a modest resort on the beach and it has become our sanctuary. 

"This year we stayed on the pool deck every night until after 11. As we walked across the deck, I saw the moon over this building and paused to take a picture. She loved the picture. This will become something she will treasure. "

I told Mary that I really love this painting, too.

"I started tearing up when I saw it. It's as close to perfect as I can imagine a painting being."

The painting was done by a process of layering, and then sharpening the colors.
All of the watercolors were mixed by me from primary colors and black. Mixing the basic colors creates hundreds of unique possibilities.
You can follow the process in the images below.

I first sketched an outline of the building and the outdoor pool. It was almost like drawing the building twice -- and once upside down -- to capture the reflection in what would become the water. I then did a very light wash of some color.

Purple and blue are very prominent colors in the finished painting. Here you can see how I began to apply them to the roof line and windows.

At this point the image begins to take on depth as shading is added to the windows and roof line, as well as the reflection.

I made the pool a color test for what would eventually be the moonlit sky.  As it is a reflection, the pool colors had to be darker.

Here I began to add some shrubbery and benches, as well as a fence. I also deepened the purple edge around the pool.

I began experimenting with the moonlit sky at this point, with mixed results at first. It took me three washes of watercolors to even it out to my satisfaction. Also note pool loungers starting to take shape.

At first the sky had an uneven quality, with lines where paint had not blended well.

 

 

I was satisfied only after adding a considerable amount of blue to the night sky. The star specks were added with white acrylic paint on a toothpick tip.

The pool loungers were the most intricate part of the process.  I painted them last.
The end result is a fair reflection of the original photo, and also reflects the owner's expressed desire for a "retro feel."
Sometimes, even if the outcome is not certain, I have to be brave enough to dive right in.

The Holiday Collection, 2014

"The Looking Glass" -- A holiday project. More to come.

Several people awoke this morning to Tom Wills Productions under their Christmas trees, or on their walls if they got them a wee bit early. I am more excited for their Christmas holidays than even my own!
First, it is an honor to be asked to produce these works for friends and families, or to gift them myself.  Second, I really do love the work.  My art is my peace and quiet, my sanctuary.
I like to say "Consider an Original," and that is what each of these pieces will be for friends and families, for decades.  There are no prints, no copies.  Each is signed and numbered.
Working with these people from September through mid-December has been a gift that I will always remember.
Here they are!

CLICK ON ALL IMAGES TO ENLARGE

No. 277:  Matt and Lorie Arnold  
(Merry Christmas, congratulations -- and surprise from me!)



No. 275:  The McCarthys.  (To Mom from Daniel, Patrick, Brian and Joanne)

No. 274:  Father and Son   (Lori Reynolds)

No. 273:  Four Guys (Lori Reynolds)

No. 270:  Mom and Dad  (Esther Sersich)

No. 271:  Mary, Mark and Grace (Mary Sweetwood)

No. 264:  Reflecting Pool  (Mark Sweetwood)
(More to read about this painting shortly.)

 No. 266: Sasha In Flowers  (Danuta Allen)

No. 268:  Grandchildren  (Tony Paglia)

No: 269:  Maddie  (Jim McFarland)

No. 265:  Bacon House (Curt and Gerri Moll)

No. 276: "Feel Flows."
(Read more about the meaning of this painting on New Years Day.)

No. 266: Sasha In Flowers

"Sasha In Flowers" by Tom Wills, watercolor, October 2014

I was recently introduced to a old and yellowed children's book called "The Puppy That Found A Home" by Sally R. Francis (author) with Dorothy Grider (illustrator).
It's one of those well-loved Rand McNally Junior Elf books, but it's a rather harrowing tale: Poor stray puppy gets chased from place to place by selfish animals and unfriendly people -- even chased with a rake -- all the time being told: "Go 'way, little stray. Go away, I say."

It ends happily with the little stray wandering into a little boy's household, where the mom is accepting and the dad builds a dog house and everyone lives happily together.
For a child it's cuddled-up story time. 
For an adult it's fiction. 
For there are happy endings -- but not always, and not enough of them.

"Hiya"

Sometimes the uncaring acts of lesser people stir the greater possibilities inside of others.
This pretty brown-eyed girl is now known as Sasha, and many of us believe that she has had an ugly life, until very recently.
Our veterinarian said Sasha the stray is a four-year-old, non-spayed purebred beagle. Her front teeth are ground down from trying to gnaw out of whatever past life she had.

Tranquility Base

The vet and some other friends believe that she may have been dumped after someone decided she could no longer function as a puppy factory.  We also were advised she'd had some litters, and probably had just lost one. Her lady parts hang low.
You can see her ribs. At 19 pounds she was four pounds under weight.
I thought her nails were trimmed, but they are just worn down.

Go 'Way

She hadn't spent much time in a house, for sure. Uncertain with steps, curious as hell, and a nervous pee-er.
She anchors down when she's about to be picked up. She trembles when held, as if she had never been held before.
She does not give kisses or lick faces -- as if she'd never had a reason to.
She has not barked and someone told me maybe it's been beaten out of her.
It's all conjecture; we don't really know.

But it's certain that Sasha eats as if every morsel is her last one.
She has a heart murmur but, astoundingly, did not have heartworm. I suspect two Dawn dishwashing soap baths had killed her fleas.
She snores like a pig and smells like a box of new Crayolas -- even after those baths.

A friend of my two daughters found her alongside a Trumbull County road.  But that household already has two dogs and her mom said "no" to a third.
So my daughters conspired, after just two days, to move her into one of their houses.
I gladly supplied an old crate, some battered tie outs and a few bowls. But having such a dog in a household with a toddler and two cats didn't work out after just a week, so she moved in here for another week.
My two dogs and one cat had a lodger.

Nemesis

Unfortunately the big German Shepherd, Corly, just doesn't get along with any dog other than his half-beagle sister Bella (a pug-beagle mix). So they had to be kept apart, and the equation wasn't going to work forever.
My wife also was less-than-enthusiastic about another mouth to feed and follow, although she really did warm to Sasha.
In the interim, it was fun watching the stray awaken Bella's inner beagle.  They played endlessly.
 

Sweetheart

Someone's choice to neglect, then, had become someone else's obligation to care.
For Sasha this also involved a complete veterinary workup, for both her health and the health of my own  dogs; as well as simple things such as those baths, tie-outs and crate; blankets; food and treats; and carving enough time out of busy work days to make sure she was not simply a new ornament.

What would you feel?

That's the nugget here: If you are going to have a pet, you really should look into its eyes. If you feel nothing in that gaze then don't have one.
A simple ID tag costs maybe $7 to make at Wal-mart. A dog license, $20 or so, has a number on it that goes into a searchable database.  Same with a rabies vaccination tag from any vet -- a unique identifying number.


Sasha had none of these. Nor did any of the other strays that have wandered in and out of our lives and those of friends over the decades.
Could you make it without a Social Security number, a driver's license, an immunization record? How far could you get?

The photos here, and several more, made it to Facebook as the call went out to find Sasha a home. I also registered her with the county dog pound but no one had reported her missing.

Her journey to what I hope becomes her forever home was cheered along and supported by dozens of Facebook friends, a network of souls close to my heart who shared and encouraged.
This is especially gratifying because there are so many strays or lost dogs out there. Rescue groups never take a day off. Social media is full of sad faces looking for better lives. Sasha is no better or deserving than any of them, but she got lucky.

Good fortune.

This is why I'm very big on animal ID. My two dogs have three forms of identification on their collars and also are microchipped, as well as wearing radio collars for an electronic fence.
I would make all efforts to get them back should they somehow get lost, because it took me so long to get them here.

You see, I could never have fur pets when I was a boy. Allergies would drive me from homes with dogs and cats. Later, my girls and I had heartbreaking experiences with puppies that didn't work out. Eventually, about 20 years ago, we got a puppy that worked out for 18 months -- until a neighbor poisoned him.
After a lengthy hiatus we then had Hank our chocolate labrador for 13 wonderful years, and now Bella for six years and Corly for four. There have been assorted strays in between, as well as two or three cats among the kids.

Idiot beagle stuff

So I've come to appreciate the hours and emotions that come into play with having pets, and I lecture   all of the time about doing the right thing. It's not to atone for my own past foibles with pets, or to get attention or any of the other crap I'm sometimes accused of. It's just something that I have grown into, am comfortable with, and hope to leave with my girls and anyone else thoughtful enough to read this.

Social media. Beaglenet. Sashaweb.

I fell hard for Sasha, if even for just a week, but had to let her go.
This story, however, is heading toward a happy ending.
A good neighbor has claimed her as a pet mate for her own rescue dog -- also once an abused animal. We moved her crate from our house to hers after about a half-week of cautious doggie meet and greets.
Sasha now finds herself in a single woman's home with a sturdy, young and lively female pit mix, where there are plenty of treats and things to play with.
She gets to keep the painting as a package deal with the dog, because I appreciate what she is doing.

I'm really gonna miss the stinky, cuddly, adorable little dog whose tail never stops wagging. We can visit but it won't be the same. It won't be me taking her outside every morning or crating her each night, typing on the laptop in dim light until she began to snore. These were becoming our rituals.
I typed this one solo.

No one's building her a dog house, but she's inside of a nice home. Outdoors she has her very own big oak tree for lazy afternoons. She figured out right away where the food is stored and where the treat box is stashed.
A lot of people pulled for Sasha. One stepped up and offered, "Come stay, lil' stray. Come stay."