blueyeduckstudios

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!

Enjoy the listen :)

Great gifties for ANY time always available in my shoppee!

Etsy
Buy Handmade
blueyeduckstudios

Friday, November 28, 2008

wintersong

for any one and every one who knows loss

peace to you this holiday season and always

~katey

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

My Dad. My Veteran.

Unforgettable - Nat King and Natalie Cole

IMPORTANT:

Press the ARROW symbol ONCE on the screen to play while you are visiting this post ~ thank-you.

He was born in 1924. He marked his years by quarters. He died 23 days ago at age 84 and 3/4s. He was not ready to go, but he walked through the veil into eternity finally surrendering to the Hand of God mere moments after he had dinner and he had a day of visitors in that hospital room. He had a procedure scheduled the next morning. This wasn’t suppose to happen.

God is sovereign. I am not mad at Him, but I am mad at a few other things and people. I didn’t really want to blog about this, yet I have thought of little else lately. I have addressed about 150 envelopes so far, I have become friends with Bud the headstone salesman, Mike the Funeral Director, and a small cast of other characters I never knew existed 23 days ago.

My Dad was not sick. In the days before this happened he insisted on making Mom drive their van around the block just to see if she still could. He made it clear he wanted me to ‘handle things’ and made an official appointment to be sure I did. He made several other eternal gestures that previous week that make us all now stand in stunned silence in hindsight.

"Twilight Regatta" acrylic n canvas board

Maybe it is weird, but inside each thank-you being mailed I tucked in a print of one of my Dad’s paintings. It is certainly one of my favorites. It showed what he was really capable of. It was done as a 4”x6” on canvas board when I had him painting postcard size. I wish it were 4 foot by six foot! I pushed him along through all my own art phases… artist trading card 2.5” x 3.5” size, postcard size, mini inchie size and so on - he always eagerly jumped into whatever whim I presented to him.

He loved the process of making art and waiting on the praise. You see, as artists that is what we do somehow. We make it and wait to see what the world says. Part of the lesson is learning to make it no matter what anyone says, but we still really get charged when there is the tiniest accolade awaiting the other side of the making of it.

My Dad was without question my biggest praiser. My art walked-on-water to him - even if it didn’t. He saw into it - the gift behind whatever I was making. Even if it was only a whiff of an idea… a plan to be rolled out and I was dealing in pieces and parts of a greater thing… he saw the thing too. He got it.

My Dad never made ‘proper’ art that we ever saw growing up, but he was unmistakably an artist. He was constantly moving and making. He was forever tearing apart a car, painting a wall (again and again), painting a car, buying a car to tear apart or paint, building something… dreaming. He rarely finished anything. He could see the end in his own head and sometimes that was enough. He made small pencil sketches when asked by a young daughter (me) or later, young grandson… we knew. Yes, he was an artist always.

Around his 81st birthday I set him up with ‘real’ art supplies. He was championing me in my eBay art selling endeavors and he was just bubbling inside. When he had his own paint, brushes, and the right sizes and kinds of papers and canvases he went to work quickly and prolifically. Many years of dreaming came spilling out. He made it then waited quietly for the praise. I wanted him to be content in the process regardless of praise (or none) - but he found plenty of applause from everyone and his small format art sold well on eBay when I offered it!

He painted nearly 2 years until potential changes in living location prompted his art supplies to be packed away. He struggled with his things gone, but slowly gained them back and bought new things, and began painting again as much as he could. I stopped selling his work after that initial pack-up of his studio since I didn’t know when or if he would paint again. I felt the need to hoard his work after that time knowing it was so limited. It was never the same as in those first two years he painted and made messes so freely, but it was clear once again he was an artist and no one could take that from him.

You can take the studio away from the artist, but you can’t take the soul out of the artist. You were expecting “you can take the artist out of the studio, but you can’t take the studio (art) out of the artist”… but I like my first version better.

The morning my husband was ironing my Dad's clothes for the funeral he noticed red paint on the nice white shirt Mom had given us for Dad to wear. I had to smile as I glanced up at myself in the bathroom mirror near where the ironing board was and saw green paint on the cuff of my own white sleeve.

I am the youngest of six. He was different with me. That is just the way it was. I have observed that where a teenager might have discord with his parents, he finds a special bond with his grandparents. Sometimes I wonder if Dad and I were more like that. We were past the kid-parent contention and more into the grandparent-grandchild magic - maybe because he was 40 when I was born and maybe because I went away to college and didn’t move back to our hometown for such a long time. Maybe it was because I 'got' him (I didn’t agree with him a lot but I got him… and he got me). When we did share a view point (especially about people) - we were like amalgamated metals.

I became the family historian and genealogy researcher about 15 years ago. Dad’s war stories became my war stories. I asked and listened over and over to get them inside of my head. This past July we set up a 10’ x 20’ tent at a local air show - featuring our collection of WWII photos and memorabilia - with Sam telling his experience live-in-person. He was fantastic and he was given the respect and praise so deserved.

He flew 38 missions over Europe in the belly of a B-17 Bomber. He was a waist gunner as well as an occasional tail gunner. I could go on for days telling you his stories.

He was honest. He was fair. He was sensitive. He was blunt.

I really only wanted to say that I miss him and I always will.

He called me Jayne.

~katey~D
http://www.blueyeduckstudios.etsy.com/

Read more about Sam from my previous blog posts.... please look

I wrote a little about him here (personal WWII photos): http://blueyeduckstudios.blogspot.com/2007/10/world-war-ii-thank-you-ken-burns.html

And I featured a little bit about his art here: http://blueyeduckstudios.blogspot.com/2007/06/d-day.html

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

My Mr BLUESKY

Mr Blue Sky ~ ELO

Yes... I have blogged the song before - but it is worth featuring again.

I want to introduce an amazing young photographer and the song fits my heart's joy regarding him.

Meet Evan of DriftStudios Photography...

Check out some of his work here on JPG magazine

DriftStudiosPhotography

"Eye of the Storm"

And this amazing photograph taken on the shore of Lake Erie as a storm came down from the north is available as a print on deviant art here:

driftstudios.deviantart.com/gallery

...along with an extended gallery of his work - take a look!

~(I love you, Mom)

Friday, September 12, 2008

COLORS

To listen press the "play" arrow

Phil Collins - True Colors

There is nothing like the fresh limey green of spring ... except of course the rich deep green of summer... or maybe the reddening of that green in autumn... or is it the rich green gone red gone rust gone brown before the snow of winter hides it all away?

We have a darling cottage shed in our yard
(I'll have to share pics one day).

A first cousin to this cottage shed is a tiny cottage closet sized shed. I have painted (opaque stained actually) both of them a rich forest green with crisp white trim and deep red doors.

The little closet shed I have shown here has reclaimed shutters as doors. We have hauled them all over the state in our many moves and finally gave them a home on this little structure.

In this season of transition I am trying out some new adventures of my own: one being a camera I am learning to use (no instructions please, I never read them!) and the other an e

diting program...again... trial and error as I won't be reading any of the user's guides ~ ha.

I have formal training in Visual Communications / Graphic Arts -- but that happened back when phones were connected to walls with curly cords and music videos existed only in my dreams (for real ... they did).

This photo editing thing is all very new to me. When I (normally) want an image a specific color or shape I naturally want to reach for gouache or ink ... not a mouse.

So here they are in all their newbie glory ~ a set of four photographs mounted on heavy 200 lb watercolor stock.

I will be adding them to my ETSY shop soon :)

Poets of the Fall

Another picture of the Work in Progress piece I am still working on (the Meadows of Heaven necklace I began to reveal in the previous post) and another reason to post a great Finish band -- this time: POETS OF THE FALL.

Someone Special ~ {Poets of the Fall}

I wake up to the sound of rain upon my sill

Pick up the pieces of my yesterday old thrill

Can I deliver this used up shiver

To how I pronounce my life

And leave it up to faith to go by its own will

Back row to the left

A little to the side

Slightly out of place

Look beyond the light

Where you'd least expect

There's someone special

A foggy morning greets me quietly today

I smell a fragrance in the wind blowing my way

And ever further I run to find herI yearn to define my life

Placing my faith in chance to meet me in half way

Back row to the left

A little to the side

Slightly out of place

Look beyond the light

Where you'd least expect

There's someone special

And she's here to write her name

On my skin with kisses in the rain

Hold my head and ease my pain

In a world that's gone insane...

To listen - press the "play" arrow on the video above

Monday, September 08, 2008

Meadows of Heaven

To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven

~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

...But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control...

~ Philippians 3:20-21a

~ NiGHTWiSH ~

(from "Dark Passion Play")

Summer is falling asleep and so much is changing all around me. There is nothing new under the sun… so I should not be surprised by changes in seasons or in friendships or in the way the hearts of men (women/ children) wander and wonder.

As the night air gets cooler after each sunset I feel the trees in our woods getting sleepy and I see the acorns piling up in the tired grass in the morning. I absolutely love autumn, but it is so melancholy . .. And I am not sure what to do with that. I love it. And I regret it.

The colors of this sleepy season are my favorite - our entire home is clothed in olive and deep leafy greens… rich blood reds and wines…. muted golds and ochres…so earthy and rich and warm.

(instrumental version)

Thursday, September 04, 2008

listen ...

In Christ Alone

Thursday, August 28, 2008

RESCUE

~Newsong~

You are the Source of life I can't be left behind

No one else will do

I will take hold of You

I need You, Jesus to come to my rescue

Where else could I go?

There’s no other name by which I am saved

Capture me with grace I will follow You

My heart is Yours for life

I need Your hand in mine

No one else will do

Lord, I put my trust in You

I need You Jesus to come to my rescue

Where else could I go?

There’s no other name by which I am saved

Oh capture me with grace I will follow You

This world has nothing for me

This world has nothing for me (I will follow You)

This world has nothing for me

I need You Jesus to come to my rescue

Where else could I go?

There’s no other name by which I am saved

Capture me with grace

I will follow You

Oh I need You Jesus to come to my rescue

Where else could I go?

There’s no other name by which I am saved

Capture me with grace

Won't You Capture me with grace

I will follow You I will follow You

This world has nothing for me

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Happy Little Ellies

Baby Elephant Walk by Henry Mancini

Once upon a time I painted some mini art (in watercolor ... and maybe some gouache though I expect I did, but don't remember for certain)...anyway... I made a series of 2" squares with a lil purple elephant.

I have resurrected the images and placed them on greeting cards. It is kind of a virtual recycle or upcycle of art I have already created. I have elongated them ('puters are so much fun that way) and added a funky waterycolory background....

I have them on ETSY for fun and promotion (you know, maybe someone will see them and come visit my shop and stick around awhile to see what else I have in there....)

http://www.blueyeduckstudios.etsy.com

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Goodbye Friend...

I will be your friend...

Every day - and it seems like any time of day, I see a man walking his dog.

Strangely enough there isn't often much walking going on. Rather, the dog is reclined in the grassy treelawn watching cars and the man is standing nearby loosely holding the leash.

No matter morning, noon, or evening the two of them can be seen along a pretty stretch of our street near the woods. I was surprised one day recently to see them on the opposite side of the street, on the bike path, actually walking. The dog was sniffing the well groomed planters along the path.

The man always has on nice clothes. The dog looks absolutely royal. I imagine him (the dog) to be some sort of descendant from some great Japanese Emporer's dog. We first noticed them a few months ago - and our first thoughts were about how regal the dog was.

Seeing them daily - usually many times daily - we began to speculate that there was more to this than simply 'taking a walk'. I suggested that the man was recovering from surgery - and was perhaps a widower. The dog was helping him get out and back into health.

Each day we see them we think about the story of why they are there (since really, there isn't much "walking" going on). The man never smiles. He appears to be in distant thought.

About a week ago we saw the man and not the dog. He was holding a bag, so I thought he was out retrieving the dog's waste (as dog walkers are in the habit of doing around here thankfully).

I saw the man very early this morning. Again, alone.

He had a bag again...

He was sprinkling the dusty contents on the edge of the tree lawn in the woods where he and his regal friend had spent so much time this summer.

It finally dawned on me.

I looked into what sort of dog this beautiful friend was. I am pretty certain he was a Shiba Inu. I see clearly now what sort of friend he had. God Bless the man.