NewVember

     The trees look like they're dying. Before the rain, they held their leaves. Some curled up and looked scorched, but it wasn't until the rains came that the leaves really began to leave the trees. Now the trees are raining leaves and it feels cold and mean. We awake to the grey grey day with rain spluttering in the drain pipes outside our bedroom walls. When we had the nice long stretch of sun, I was grateful, not complacent, remembering that these wet days were on their way. I love that it took it's sweet time, but now it's here and things look like they are dying. Fall is falling.
    Deb loves the Fall and I see why. Newly printed colored leaves pressed wet on the black black road. The earth is soaking. There's a quiet hissing in the dripping forest and the new smell of fresh decay. All preparing for my favorite time when things warm up enough to grow again. Right now it's all dialed down in the big big fridge.

    I have a lot to do outside. The place is still not skirted, there's still some wood to cut, a future studio..... half built in back, some plants to move, a recycled window to install. I wake up early and it's so damn grey, the rain says "hi", the house is ready to rekindle it's sweet warm wood heat. I hope for a few coals because if they are there, a few sticks of kindling and a couple of chunks of fir or alder thrown in with crumpled paper, and we are good. We keep the cool damp away all day with just a few summer split rounds. The understated joy that comes with cutting, splitting, stacking, and burning our own wood will again be understated here...... I love it. Our place is far from airtight, but not in any way drafty. The cosy stove that we use for heat tends to borrow it's air from where we live. The result is a very mellow atmosphere, I presume lacking the oxygen that charges me up in the no stove Spring. A time to read, draw, paint, nap, cook and go for walks.

   Thursdays I paint with a small group calling themselves "Life and Limb" We hire a model to pose for 3 hours and we paint away. Models are sometimes "draped" and sometimes "undraped". I have been using watercolors one week and my oils the next. Last week our model forgot to show up. He was in "Town" (the term used for Vancouver) thus a ferry boat ride away when I finally managed to connect with him with my reminder call. I sort of pissed and moaned about the rather unexciting (70yr old) models we were using last session, and got the model hiring job for this session. I know, I know, served me right. 
        So, an hour 'til show time and no model. Deb likes to model for me at home so I made the call. I wanted my new younger model to remain draped. Although barely out of her 50's she was still my wife and I was just getting to know everyone and I didn't want to pretend this is what happens when a Canadian leaves the country for 40 years..... you know, shows up in a group of semi-strangers with a disrobed wife. 
       It went well. Deb did a good job of being still. I probably should have had the diplomacy to paint a softer portrait. The light was harsh and unforgiving. I said, "You probably just had a lot on your mind" and then..."kind of perfect for Halloween". I was inadvertently tapping into the cosmic wellspring of the undiplomatic. The resulting work  may never again come to the light of day. We spent some time this morning digging up some of my early renditions of Deb. I'll include a few here. Forget the most recent  however .... no one sees that one....see earlier paragraph re: kindling the morning fire with crumpled paper.  


I wasn't sure i liked these at the time, but now I'm glad we've kept them. Most, excepting the first 2 are from my journals.
           

 Acrylic (1971?)

Our first year together /pastel 1971

Deb Modeling 1999 /ink wash

       Modeling for me at the Frye1999 /sepia ink 

Africa 2001 pencil

Mexico 2007

 

  Italy 2008  

 

Roberts Creek, BC 2011