Sexy, Sassy Tangerine

Taken from my original acrylic painting, this giclée print — pronounced “ghee-KLAY” — fits an 11 x 14 inch frame when matted. The inspiration for this portrait came from the jazz classic entitled "Tangerine". The music was written by Victor Schertzinger, the lyrics by Johnny Mercer. The song was published in 1941.

He Ate Your Heart???

Oh, dear Thomas Hardy, poet of the Englishmen, why did your cat eat your heart?


Hardy died in Dorchester, Dorset, on January 11, 1928. Eva Dugtale washed his body and prepared it for burial. Hardy's ashes were cremated in Dorchester and buried with impressive ceremonies in the Poet's Corner in Westminster Abbey. According to a literary anecdote his heart was to be buried in Stinsford, his birthplace. All went according to plan, until a cat belonging to the poet's sister snatched the heart off the kitchen table, where it was temporarily kept, and irreverently ate it.


Here is Cindy Dulfer and her sax wailing out a tune called "Wish You Were Here".

Simply Irresistible

Secrets About Writing the Perfect Love Letter

Still waiting for that love letter?  Here's how to get just the one you want!

There is an old song written in 1935 called “I’m Going to Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter”. It starts with these words—I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter And make believe it came from you….
 
I created this pen and ink drawing on an old book page with text that  includes the words "letter", "postmark", "sat at home", "his-might-have-beens"... and it reminded me of Sinatra's song and that gave me an idea for the title of this artwork.  Thought you'd like to hear ol' blue eyes pour out his heart.  







Here are the lyrics:

I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter
And make believe it came from you
I'm gonna write words, oh, so sweet
They're gonna knock me off my feet,
A lotta kisses on the bottom,
I'll be glad I got 'em

I'm gonna smile and say:
"Gee, I hope you're feeling better."
And close "with love" the way you do.
I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter
And make believe it came,
I'm gonna make believe it came from you.

Blue Geisha

My print entitled "Blue Geisha" reminds me of all things Japanese.  Remember the film "Memoirs of a Geisha"?  I hope this video brings back fond memories of the love story.

Time After Time

Such a beautiful song inspired my painting entitled "Time After Time". Here it is performed by the Larry Franco Quartet with guest Michael Supnick.

How Do You Keep the Music Playing

"How Do You Keep the Music Playing?" was the inspiration for this portrait of a young woman. By all counts, it is one of the most beautiful love songs ever written. It was composed by Michel Legrand, with lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman for the 1982 film Best Friends. It was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Original Song at the 55th Academy Awards.




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I Won't Send Roses

Giving a painting a title isn't always the easiest thing to do. This man is in love, but is at a loss as how to express it.

See if you think Michael Feinstein's "I Won't Send Roses" sums it up.




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Brazilian Girl --- She Surfs

Somehow I can't imagine packing a suitcase and heading for Brazil. However, our technorati entrepreneurial son is doing just that. He and his young family are planning a new life on the Brazilian island of Florianopolis. (Apparenly it is not only a great place to live but also a cool place to surf.)

It's funny, but I have this persisting notion. When I invest emotional energy and time in a place, it seems that eventually I am physically connected with that location. I have had this happen multiple times in my life.

Last summer I came across a Brasilian jazz pianist on YouTube and watched it over and over; I spent hours listening, dancing and painting to her music. Her name: Eliane Elias. I love jazz piano and love the way she plays it. So now, here is another unexplainable connection. The people I love most are going to be in Brazil.

Girl in the Blue Turban

As I was gessoing the paper for this painting my husband said, "What are you going to paint?"

"I haven't the slightest idea," I said.

"How can you get ready to paint and not know what you are going to do," he asked.

"Well, that's just the way it is," I told him.


There is something both frustrating and magical in those moments before the pencil sketch is created and the paint is mixed. For me there is no recipe -- no tried and true habits. Each work, as so many artists know, has a life of its own. And in the doing, each painting I complete could have been several paintings if I had stopped at certain junctures. I had an art professor tell me to "stop now or the painting will become something different." He was right.

I don't stop until I have exhausted every possibility and the work itself says you're done. I'm not sure it will always be this way. When I figure out how everything works maybe it will be different.

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Girl with Brown Eyes

The Shadow of Your Smile

Memories don't belong to youth -- they aren't old enough to have many. It's only as the decades pass that we begin to treasure what we have chosen to put into our lives. Today I remembered that summer afternoon on the grass chatting with a boy just a year older than I. The sun was on his bare chest and he smelled so good. Most of the details have slipped out of reach, but what remains is that "shadow of his smile".

Here is George Shearing's piano solo played with the tenderness of maturity.

She Was a Blonde

(Click the image to see it in a larger format.)

My mother was blonde with lovely long legs, a beautiful figure and a sweet face. She and dad dated from the time they were in their very early teens during the mid 30s. Dad said that during lunch at East High in Denver, they would go across the street to a little soda shop and plan their life together. They were married in 1939 and loved one another for 59 years.

They made a striking couple. She looked so feminine against his slim, tall physique and black hair. I think she must have been on my mind when I drew this portrait.

My dad’s devotion for my mother was matched only by his love for piano jazz. He had a huge collection of 78 records and I grew up hearing jazz performed by all the best. Erroll Garner was one of his favorites. Ours was a very romantic house.