I had a big artsy sale at my house over the holidays and invited all my art pals to participate. I still have a few more fun little things for sale that I am putting on ebay. This is a print on paper on board of a larger piece that I did for the Oklahoma Visual Artists Coalition earlier this year. I really like the bright, cheery nature of my cute great niece, Avery who is the sunglassed girl in the picture.
To bid and visit the rest of my ebay gallery, CLICK HERE
Welcome to my blog where I post recent photos of my work and journal about my life as an artist. I live and work in Tulsa Oklahoma. It is from my early life in the mountains that I developed a love of the natural world which now includes vast prairies and endless skies. To contact me about a purchase all in lowercase letters you can write me at margee And then my last name @Gmail. Opening the web version of this blog gives the opportunity to purchase any of my how to books/videos, etc..
Friday, January 22, 2016
Monday, January 11, 2016
Jimson Weed Violin
I have a friend who is a luthier . He thought it would be fun to paint on a blank violin and I agreed! This is one of my favorite painting which just happens to not be on a stretched canvas. I just reduced the price of this masterpiece on my ebay site. :-) To visit my ebay gallery and possibly bid on this painting/instrument click here My pal will totally dress this out to a playable violin for you too! While you are here check out my books on painting either the still life or landscape in oil. These books are full color, step by step, and written in a very easy to understand way.
Saturday, January 02, 2016
Pewter, Pears, Brusselsprouts
Pewter, Pears, .. and then Brusselsprouts
This was a painting that I just completed in my adult class. I stuck it on Ebay this morning and it is open for bids. Happy Bidding! Click here to visit my Ebay site where you can bid or browse through the rest of my ebay gallery.
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This was a painting that I just completed in my adult class. I stuck it on Ebay this morning and it is open for bids. Happy Bidding! Click here to visit my Ebay site where you can bid or browse through the rest of my ebay gallery.
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Saturday, December 12, 2015
SOLD ! Ode to the Dusk Painting by me and poem by Scott both in our book, In Tandem
ODE
TO THE DUSK
People, like
fire, burn at both ends
until all that
has been borrowed on this earth
turns to ash.
Smoke and spirit
mix in the twilight of our lives,
and the warrior
sings one more ode to the dusk,
lifting voice
with the nighthawk and coyote,
crying out to
the amber light and turquoise sky.
He paints
himself the color of sunset.
Wednesday, December 09, 2015
Tuesday, December 08, 2015
Saturday, December 05, 2015
A Few of my Favorite Things
Remember 'The Sound of Music?' This painting was created after the song in that movie called , I think, 'Favorite Things." Can you find some of the things from the song?
This is on auction this week. you can bid, view or enter my ebay gallery here
This is on auction this week. you can bid, view or enter my ebay gallery here
Thursday, December 03, 2015
Spray of Cardinals
This painting and its corresponding poem were in our recent show in Tulsa, OK. To bid or visit my ebay gallery, Click Here
SPRAY
OF CARDINALS
Looking out my window to the backyard,
cup of coffee in hand,
winter apple tree, for an instant, seems ripe
with fruit.
It is a desire for the return of spring that
brings on this illusion.
Closer examination reveals
cardinals scattered among the branches.
Their crimson silhouettes,
stand, most brilliant against the bleak,
washed sky.
For months, I have looked out on this scene--
Grey sky,
grey fence,
grey branches.
Rooftops of neighboring houses are degrees of
grey.
My eyes now, weary of grey, are delighted by
this late winter offering.
I become aware that I am cupping my coffee in
both hands,
as though receiving Eucharist.
Then, in a flash of red, the tree ignites in
winged flight.
Startled, I blink, and everything is the same
again, only different.
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Wednesday, December 02, 2015
Stepping into Fall
Another painting from our show with the poem, " We Walk," written by Scott Aycock
WE
WALK
We are on retreat—
a cabin in the woods.
Leaving behind cell phones, and computers—
we walk.
The path is wide, clearly marked—
no getting lost.
We feel at ease on this unfamiliar path,
whereas, back home, in the city
familiarity seeds boredom,
and yes, sometimes resignation.
Trodden paths turn to ruts,
roots are exposed,
like fingers pointing.
We are lost.
For now, though,
in tandem,
we walk.
me in front
and then pausing
to observe a mushroom,
or catch my breath,
she will take the lead.
Out here, cooperation, not competition,
Rules the day.
I offer a hand crossing a creek,
and stopping to rest,
she offers me water and a smile.
Still we are cautious, but curious.
New trails are like that,
only a hint of what lies ahead.
We walk.
It is mid-September and already,
the sun sits lower in the sky.
Slant light is warm, almost hot,
as the trail steers us into one of the many
grassy clearings.
On this high plane
we walk
among blue stem, cacti, and crimson-crowned
sumac.
The path gives way and dips into deep
shadows.
I stop before wading into
Pine—
Oak—
Juniper.
She steps beside me,
her arm brushes mine.
Standing there, she whispers,
“can you feel it? It’s like leaving summer and walking into
fall.”
True, the heat gives way abruptly,
cool moist air rushes up the descending path.
Stepping under the canopy
there is a hushed silence.
Instinctively, I reach for her hand and
we walk.
Snakes Painting by me.... Poem by Scott
My husband, Scott and I recently had a month long show at a local gallery. My husband is a poet, and I, of course, the painter. Each painting had a corresponding poem. This one had a great poem about a little boy falling asleep on a hot Sunday at church. To visit my ebay gallery, click the link to gallery.
Gallery
Gallery
SNAKES
Sunday mornings
Southern Baptists
Summer heat
All those “S’s” hissing!
In the garden, preacher warned,
“Snakes will lull you to sleep.”
My head in grandmother’s lap
Twirling fans,
suspended from the ceiling.
Never pushing air enough…
sweating
hearing
voice,
not words…
rising,
falling
rising, falling.
The stroke of her fingers
tongue at my neck
in my ear
Hissing!
Preacher’s voice
distant and hollow
as though
listening underwater,
to a voice calling
softly,
tenderly
rising, falling
hissing
in my ear
sleep. . . sleep. . .
ssssssss . . . .
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