Art

Art from a couple of months

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Detail from a wall at L’Aitre Saint Maclou

The top two photos are the finished versions of two large houses I painted in Brattleboro before I left for France in mid September 2024.

The three pencil drawings were done in France, the one of my hand was drawn in Rouen when I stayed with Geneviève for 2 weeks, and the other two were made after two different excursions with Geneviève, the first to the Aitre of Saint Maclou, loosely you could say Saint Maclou’s boneyard, but it went back to the Bubonic plague and others.

Damn I hate wordpress! I can’t edit any paragraph once I click return and it is driving me up a wall. But that said, the final Pencil drawings were done was done of the wheels in the barn behind the broom makers workshop, where he showed us how he makes brooms of all different sorts, entirely by hand or with human powered tools, nothing electrical.

The final little painting in acrylics was done recently, just 6” square. Nothing much to say about it, but after I finish my last house portrait, the final oil painting and house portrait of three I started back in June, (see the finished 2 above) i will have to come up with a new project!

These last two photos were spontaneously snapped by Ruby, another artist in the collective, who saw me walk in the gallery door with Josette, She was enchanted by Josette! And even I loved the photos she took!

I see I completely forgot to explain the simple black and white painting/ drawing of the two dancers. That was originally just black paint splotches on good white paper but I challenged myself to make a picture out of it and lo and behold I did, just in adding a few lines.

8 thoughts on “Art from a couple of months”

  5. Hi,

    The interesting thing is …looking back…I can put things together that should’ve alerted me to this reality…but didn’t.

    Last night in the dream state…I saw my brother…He was trying to comfort me….picked me up…hugged me..wouldn’t let go and kept kissing me on the forehead.

    There is SOME question in my mind if THIS brother…might not have the same Polish father I have.

    His son will be taking an ancestry test…my nephew will be taking the test….and that’ll give more info on whether he has a Polish grandfather….Good grief…They sure knew how to keep secrets..

    Are you glad to be home?

    Carole

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  7. I love seeing this collection! Now that I’ve seen the house paintings in the gallery, I can say they really shine in person. I love the expressiveness of the characters in the ink blot drawing – and those feet!

    I hope we’ll see the little moon painting in the gallery too, someday.

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  8. Hey Phoebe..

    Great work…Especially you lates Doll Figure..I love those!!!!

    I would think you could make some $$ from your house paintings…They are splendid!!

    Love,

    Carole

    Oh, my news.

    I just found out after doing ancestry.com http://ancestry.com/….that the man I thought was my father…ALL MY LIFE….was not my father. I now have new relatives… I always thought I was Italian…both sides..but nope…turns out…I am Italian maternal…and Polish Paternal.

    That makes FOUR different fathers in my family of origin. My mother “Erma” was….a player….Beautiful…..charismatic….and mostly,….miserable…She used her looks to get what she wanted from men. I always made it a point NEVER to use my looks to use people.

    Anyway…It’s Thanksgiving…I know you don’t bother with that stuff….not that I care..but….Rick is here and I’m making turkey for the husband…and Rick and I will feast on veggies and beans…and as always…a HUGE Salad.

    Nice that you’re back home.

    My nephew and wife and son and grandson just got back from a month in Italy…..tracing family history….So, the whole maternal side applies to me…but NOT the Vitale..paternal side…ha ha hahaaa….Hysterical.

    My nephew’s wife grabbed a book to read on the plane…and it turned out……..dod doodad…to be…A book about the same subject…A woman who found her her “father” was not her father….She was brought up Jewish…Not…like me…Italian…

    Such is life.

    Love, Carole

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