Here again is my cat doing zen like things in my backyard. I need a new venue or a new pet or a jonre. Maybe a niche. I have always wanted to have my own one of those. Yes, I need a nice little niche. Not too big, not too small, just one to call my very own. One that fits this perfect hell I'm in.
This is a painting of the beachroad. I have had it around for a quite a while and I ocassionally add bits of color. This is what it looks like now. We paint our sand fences pink, or at least I do. I took the reference photo for this late one warm summer afternoon in the coldest dead of winter.
Hereford were the cattle that originally were used to repopulate the great plains after we killed all the buffalo. There are a lots of exotic breeds now much better than herefords, but still a pale comparison to the buffalo. The hereford or red whiteface cattle with horns have been largely bred out of existence.
Oil on canvas 12"X16"
this painting is no longer available.
Most people can't make this stuff up. This is "Lovee" the pastel calico that replaced Laverne. If my neighbor and I were still on speaking terms he would testify. About a year ago my neighbor came to our house. He saw "Lovee" for the first time, however, he knew we already had a calico cat. In astonishment he asked, "..has that cat faded?"
Parchman farm was a 16,000 acre prison in Mississippi. This painting started out as a rural landscape of South Dakota. It had a barn, an old house and a concrete silo, with a big open pasture in the foreground. I thought the pasture needed something. So I added the sheep. Then I realized that the sheep really didn't need the house, the barn or the concrete silo. Sometimes the things I have the hardest time parting with are the things I need the least. This painting is sold to a repeat collector
I have painted this house before. This is an ocean front home in Nag's Head, North Carolina. When I moved to the outer banks I lost the key to the highway. Now I won't be leaving here running, and you know, walking is most too slow.
Since my dog died I have been paying more attention to my cats. This one in particular. Shirley. I am fastinated by the intense euphoric feeling she apparently gets digging her claws along the wood grain. I think I have captured that moment here.
Oil on canvas 8"X16" (SOLD)
Bob in South Dakota says I am the only artist that can paint his chickens. He's a wildman, he might get someone else to write you a letter. he'll do it too. Don't ask about painting chickens out here on the outerbanks without the expressed written concent of Rick Nilson, Bob, The National Football League, and the American Egg Layers Assoc. Manteo Chapter
This is from another photo furnished by my painting mate Mick. Serendipity again. I owe you Mick. For some reason this painting feels somber in a way that is hard to shake. I think the open electrical panel on the front of the house is the saddest element. The elctrical panel and the house are both vacant. When a house is condemned they "pull the (meter) ". Similar to "pull the plug".