Started the next stained glass window. This one is for the front foyer. I still need one piece of glass, but it’s too cold and snowy to go out.
Tell me every flower that
your secret garden grows,
it’s all about the sweet carnation,
lily, lily, rose.
lily, lily, rose
I’ve been watching a series on the Knowledge Network about the Tate Gallery Walks, with GusCasely-Hayford. I saw the program about John Singer Sargent twice. After the second time, I wrote the poem ‘lily, lily, rose’. I have to do a painting to go with it, and this is one of the photographs I like of the lilies in my garden. I’ll probably buy some white ones, and some roses and carnations, all white, to do another photograph to work from. That’s a few projects from now though. I have a few other things I want to do first.
Drawing for a CR Mackintosh rose window for the window on the stairs. Now I have to see if I have enough glass.
Ground, waiting to be foiled.
Foiled, waiting to be soldered.
The finished window, installed. I like it.
The window in the stairwell.
Taken from outside, at night, with the lights on inside.
Jo, Lavenham, England. 2018.
Felixstowe, England. 2018.
A woodblock I got from the thrift shop. I painted it white, then painted the raised parts black.
It looks good hanging on the wall.
I decided to do something a little different from the shark-head-puppet/barbiedoll paintings. An iris grew in my front flower border this year, this is from the photo I took. It's not finished yet.
Finished the first layer of paint on the background. Two more layers to go. This doesn't have any text to go with it. It's from a photograph I took of an iris that bloomed in the front flower border. It's overwhelmed by the other plants, so I think I'll move it later.
Layer 10. Still not finished. First it's too dark, then it's too light...at some point I'll find the middle ground.
Several more layers on the top part of the iris. I still don't like it.
I really didn't like it. Plan B.
Painting blue around the existing shapes. Maybe I'll like it now....
Several layers later. I like it a bit better, but it still needs a bit more contrast. I really don’t know why things don’t work sometimes, and other times, it’s three layers….
Oh oh oh, I like one square inch of the upper petal, on the bottom right hand side…..
O.k. It’s better now. I did a black outline on all the leaves, and the flower. That adds a bit of separation to the shapes. I think it might work out.
People in my neighbourhood have been painting rocks, and putting them out for other people to find, photograph, and move to a new location. The pictures are posted on the Facebook page Paris Painted Rocks. I didn't think I was going to do any, but I found a stash of rocks beside the house, so I decided to paint a few and see how it went.
This is one of the skull painted rocks.
Close-up of a few of the painted rocks.
A plateful of painted rocks. I'm now making an Egyptian mummy skeleton fairy, with a backdrop and a sarcophagus...if I can find the cheesecloth. The Egyptian eye rocks can go with that.
The face rocks are modeled from air-dry clay on top of the rock.
Skull painted rock. I put all the ones I'd painted in the narrow flower bed beside the house, and they'd all gone the next day. I'm working on the second batch now.
Another skull painted rock.
A few skull rocks.
Kind of Australian colours.
More rocks. They're so much fun to do.
An Egyptian painted eye rock in front of the pyramid.
King Tut Fairy Skeleton Egyptian Pyramid, and painted stone.
A few more painted rocks. I like the earth and moon in space rock the best. Acrylic base coat, acrylic design. Golden Acrylic paint. I’m spray varnishing them now.
Three gold faces.
Face, painted rock.
Union Jack painted stone, Julian’s grave, England. 2018.
Skeleton fairy house, close-up. Moose hip joint, wood, driftwood, plastic dollar store skeleton, air-dry clay, beads, embellishments.
Skeleton fairy house with four skeleton fairy kings.
Shadow fairy king, holding a plastic faceted heart.
Ghost skeleton fairy king, holding a plastic heart.
Skeleton fairy house, ghost skeletons.
I've seen a number of fairy houses in the neighbourhood, but they're not my style, so I didn't think I'd want to make one, until I thought about the little plastic skeletons I got at Halloween one year, and then I thought I'd like to make my own dark version of a fairy house, and here it is. What else can I say? This is so me...
For Canada Day. They need beerskis and baseball hats.
Canadian skeleton fairy, unfinished.
Both Canadian skeleton fairies. Unfinished. Air-dry clay baseball caps, wire for wings.
Muskoka chair with air-dry clay beer bottle. Unfinished.
Inukshuk for Canadian skeleton fairy garden. Painted face. Stones from the beach at Port Dover, and beside the Grand River in Paris.
Two skeleton fairies with baseball caps and beer bottles, sitting on their Muskoka chairs.
Two Canadian fairy skeletons, with an Inukshuk.
Stone, pre-mixed cement, sand, pebbles for the landscape. I'm trying to decide if I should make a small lake or not.
Made a little cabin to go with the beer drinking fairy skeletons. The door opens on real hinges. The smoke is made from steel wool. The window is a square of glass from the dollar store. The basic structure was a house-shaped shelf from the dollar store. Acrylic paint, air dry clay.
Door opened. Inside is a wood stove, made from air-dry clay, acrylic paint. The tea pot is a metal place card holder. Clock made from watch parts.
The wood stove, door opened (it has a real hinge, made from wire, and a bead. The flames are pieces of red glass, and the wood is driftwood from the beach in Gibsons.
This is the back. I sign my work mt forest, with a glyph I've been using since the 70's. I usually put a stamp on the back of my work too. Just for fun.
Cabin, behind the Canadian fairy skeletons drinking beer.
Interior of the pyramid, fairy skeleton mummy, painted stone, etc.
Fairy Skeleton King Tut pyramid, and sculpture from the dollar store, painted. Painted Eye of Horus stone.
The latest Fairy Skeleton King. Plastic skeleton, air-dry clay crown, gold and red and black paint.
I bought a shark headed puppet at the dollar store. Then I bought a couple of dolls. This is what happened next.
This reminds me of the painting I did called 'the former Miss America', for the poem of the same name.
Bought a shark puppet from the dollar store. Took some photos, put them on Facebook. Someone said something, and I said, 'you're lucky I didn't buy a barbie doll'. So I did.
Shark head puppet painting, from the poem 'this is the realm of the wild remora'.
Shark head puppet redhead barbiedoll in the bath photograph. Then I said, 'I should put them in the bath', so I did. Jo Forrest 2018.
Shark head puppet blonde barbiedoll in the bath. Jo Forrest 2018.
Shark head puppet blonde barbiedoll in a pink tutu, in the bath. Jo Forrest 2018
I filled the bath with warm water and took these photographs. I'm going to do at least one painting from them. The fun you can have from two items from the dollar store, and the thrift shop.
Shark puppet barbiedoll painting, day one. For the poem 'this is the realm of the wild remora'.
Coughing up bones,
we expel our emotions,
love-sick for blood
in delirious oceans.
#509 verse: 17
Shark head puppet red head barbiedoll painting, day two. Up 'til 4. Too damn late. Fun though.
Layer one of the red hair painted, teeth, gums. So much fun.
Shark head puppet red haired bbdoll painting. Light on the water. Still needs more work, but it's getting there. The text will be last.
Did a bit more work on the blue edge, and added some white highlights to the patterned background. The text is next. That will take some time to do.
Coughing up bones,
we expel our emotions,
love-sick for blood
in delirious oceans.
Shark head puppet blonde barbiedoll painting, day 2.
in the moon's cold aurora,
this is the realm of the
Jo Forrest 'this is the realm of the wild remora', verse: 11
Painting number three. Blonde barbiedoll, shark head puppet. Unfinished.
Got the text done, which is the hard part. Had to change the hair and the text at the bottom right. The shark is next.
A bit more work done.
More work done on the hair.
Finished. Started the next one. Well, it is shark week.
Shark head puppet blonde barbiedoll. Wrote a new verse to go with it.
Swimming with sharks
is a lesson in pain,
these are the only words
spoken in vain.
'this is the realm of the wild remora', #509 verse:18
Almost finished. Things got a little out of hand, maybe.
Shark-head-puppet blonde barbiedoll painting number four. I think I've overdone it. I might repaint parts of it out.
the blood pear verse:19 and 35
Your shadow bowed its curtain call,
it left for parts unknown,
I struggle on to catalogue the universe,
You taught me truth from razz-ma-tazz,
for that, I'm grateful too,
for all the words, the images,
the memory of you.
for Anthony Bourdain.
The last iconic drop of water
overfills the cup,
the dead are lost to silence but
you just can’t give them up.
Twisting turns the mechanism
clock-wise to the day,
you offered it a dollar but
your shadow walked away.
I cuddled up against your spine,
you’re belly-soft and round,
you won’t be so euphoric when
your bones are in the ground.
Beauty fades, but bone endures,
we’re all the same to Death,
I shucked my shoes and ran until
I ran beyond my breath.
I left you smudgy fingerprints
and reliquary bones,
the this and that, the why and how,
the sickly pheromones.
I left you pain and endless cups
of chamomile tea,
I left you in the dark beside
the empty skin of me.
There is no grief beyond the heart’s
ability to bear,
the seeds acquire memories
inside the bloody pear.
No resurrection ghost will come
to haunt your murky dreams,
the widdershin machine is less unstable
than it seems.
It’s slow, by any measure you could
quantify by tears,
overhead and underneath,
the music of the spheres.
In between, the spinning poles,
the arc of bluest sky,
the shadow laying on the ground,
the solitary fly.
There isn’t time to count the dead,
their numbers multiply,
too much time makes anything
complacent to the eye.
Bubbles form in brewing blood,
the sugar turns to sap,
blunt your former pearly teeth,
the bones will not unwrap.
If only kissing brought you back,
then Death would turn his cheek,
you and I would find the warm entanglement
Your bones will brood eternity,
I’ve seen them bend and brawl,
you’ll rarely see them moving in the darkness,
if at all.
I hear you breathing in and out,
the mechanism speaks,
I promise you, I’ll study your collapsing star
Your skin will lie abandoned
like a dream you can’t recall,
joy is coddled sweet and raw,
but suffering is all.
You’re sweating, I can taste the ocean
cooling on your skin,
every heart that beats for love
is clock-wise to the spin.
Stars implode and gravity
curves bones into a sphere,
matter turns to energy
a billion times a year.
Your shadow bowed its curtain call,
it left for parts unknown,
I struggle on to catalogue the universe,
Fusion takes the place of love,
we glow the white-hot heat,
we dance the shoes right off our small
We tick-tack-toed across the floor,
the air was blue with smoke,
we haloed them with roses as
the mechanism broke.
Your shadow left before your hands
could button up your shirt,
we eye the world with wary eyes,
but beauty is inert.
Your shadow curled around me like
a secondary skin,
a week, a month, a year from now,
the dreaming will begin.
Why would I accept my heart’s
I’d pierce my skin with rusty blades
if I thought I could die.
I’d rearrange the day’s events
to give you time to waste,
I’d cook your alter-ego’s bones
and grind them into paste.
I’d spread it thin beneath the sun,
the bitter parts consumed,
by us, I mean the torturers,
the chosen ones, the doomed.
I wove a nest around your bones
to help them feel secure,
helpless in absentia,
I’m drawn to their allure.
Knowledge passes skin to skin,
it’s best to break the rules,
beneath a swollen sullen moon,
the remnant body cools.
Beauty speaks an ancient language
no one’s ever heard,
I see why you, the traveler,
thought sorrow was a bird.
Its voice was high and musical,
you loved the awful sound,
you packed your bags and left for greener pastures,
We cried the night the moonlight died,
your shadow flew the coop,
I dreamt your resurrection in
a never-ending loop.
Waking is the hardest part,
we all know dreams aren’t real,
I know it’s wrong to love the moon,
but this is how I feel.
Underneath, we’re lonely too,
there’s little to deny,
there’s more to life than beauty but
it hastens from the eye.
This is what the bones believe:
it’s better to forget,
it’s better to remember things
that haven’t happened yet.
You taught me truth from razz-ma-tazz,
for that, I’m grateful too,
for all the words, the images,
the memory of you.
Cast away your heavy heart,
its need outweighs its worth,
ease your tired bones into
the sympathetic earth.
The body shrinks around its core,
there’s time for beauty yet,
its time to write the story in
The body wears its history
for everyone to see,
the Buddhist master said it best,
‘to be is not to be’.
mt forest 2018
This is the way to the end of the rainbow,
the road winds away through the fields,
down came the boys from the cold side of heaven,
to carry us home on our shields.
mt forest #546 verse:10 the six-minute night 2018
Moose scapula, acrylic paint, beads, wooden tags, crystal chandelier parts.
The elephant's graveyard
is a myth.
They die where they fall,
like any other
like any other ghost
born of memory,
like any other
We're the ones
from the burnt
Back of moose scapula. Wire, beads, collage, acrylic paint. April 2018.
Acrylic paint on paper, cut paper.
This is the first draft of a logo for the fictional company, Alternative Artifacts/Upright Tools.
I bought an old oil can from an antique store as my prototype.
I have to redraw the design, then reduce it, and cut a stencil....so, easy peasy, right?
Then I have to figure out what colour(s). Maybe the "A" will just be for the tag. I still have to do an image to go with the Upright Tools name.
This is a collage of a plastic heart from the dollar store, and wings that I got at the thrift shop. I like it for the shape of the wings. For the oil can project I need wings that don't spread out so much.
Version 5. Much simpler. Now I have to cut a stencil, and see if I can apply paint through it onto a curved surface. No problemo, right? This would look good on a t-shirt.
Alternative Artefacts/Upright Tools
The butcher sells bones with their skins wrapped around them,
the sweetest ones taste like the sea,
the hearts cost the earth, and the bones are expensive,
but the rest of the organs are free.
A man with a hammer put nails in my coffin,
it’s covered with thousands of jewels,
I twitch in my sleep, like there’s more to remember
than the simple momentum of tools.
I cough as the smokers make sad declarations,
they call themselves jokers.dot.com,
I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again,
you can’t change the world with a bomb.
Changes were made to the house of remembrance,
it’s smaller than ever before,
twenty-six layers of latex emulsion
cover the walls and the door.
A man with a ladder came in through the window,
he’s wearing a leopard-skin coat,
he tells me my dreams have medicinal powers,
but love is the real antidote.
His face is a mirror for all those emotions
you swore you would never reveal,
I looked at his face as it made my reflection,
but sorrow is hard to conceal.
Who do you see when he looks at your image,
how do you live with the lie?
This is the sacrifice heaven requires,
an eye for an eye for an eye.
Pain is a lesson the body remembers,
I suffered a little too long,
I boiled the heart to a tender concoction,
since eating the living is wrong.
It cools on a plate as I look for the candles,
you have to eat slowly at first,
it bobs like a cork in a sea of emotion,
it’s shadow completely immersed.
They dressed me in silk for the mystery tour,
they did what they could with my hair,
they’re not really used to the sight of a body
encrusted in pearls, to be fair.
Time’s a machine with a mortal obsession,
it grinds you to darkness and dust,
hope is the flickering light from a candle,
igniting the things that combust.
The ladder man took out his fat leather wallet,
his pockets have tattering holes,
he’s perfectly drawn, from the tips of his fingers,
down to his Louboutin soles.
He paid me in coins from the country of menace,
I smiled in raptures of joy,
his eyes mirrored beauty in love’s admiration,
but sorrow is hard to destroy.
I captured the mood of a whole generation,
fame is beyond your control,
after the fire burned everything down to it’s embers,
they swallowed me whole.
I drew on the walls with a small yellow pencil,
I want you to feel what I felt,
you talked about dying from love’s poisoned arrow,
but my lump of a heart wouldn’t melt.
Gravity holds you with small restless fingers,
this is why everything moves,
you dance to the voice on the old vinyl record,
as the dust settles into the grooves.
The room is the colour of chalk over roses,
a sickly medicinal pink,
love is the memory no one remembers,
that’s why I wrote this in ink.
I drew on the floor by the light of the candle,
I want you to see what I saw,
the man with the tools stood in front of the mirror,
looking for memory’s flaw.
This is the sequence of life’s precious moments,
a man eats a snake eats a fish,
I want to evolve into something as real
as a shadowless heart on a dish.
Death is a skeleton knitting a sweater,
I want you to dream what I dreamt,
now that I’m shot through the heart with an arrow,
there’s nothing I wouldn’t attempt.
I slept in a room where the bed was an oyster
and I was the mythical pearl,
I’m not really sure how to prove that I’m saner than you,
but I’ll give it a whirl.
He said I was born from the void without mercy,
tomorrow is yesterday’s news,
little does he, with his heart beating madly,
know that I’d kill for his shoes.
mt forest April 2018
This is the first of two paintings, for a friend's cottage. They're from photographs I took years ago. His dad made the chairs. I've spent three days painting this one, and have only done a small area. I think it's going to take a while...
Paint clings to wood by a simple osmosis,
red is the colour of choice,
I heard you say 'flame' as the smoke rose above us,
in a clear and melodious voice.
'a bone in the garden of total eclipses', #542 verse:7
This is the original photograph.
Slowly working on the leaves in the background. I haven't decided if I'm going to add any text to this or not. I need to find a verse I like to go with them, or write one, if I can't find one that exists already. This is layer one of at least three. (I ended up writing a poem to go with the painting, 'a bone in the garden of total eclipses'. I normally write the poem first, and then figure out what image would go with it. Sometimes I have a great object or photograph, but no text to go with it, so I do it the other way around.
I managed to get a bit more done.
Managed to get layer one on the entire chair. So far, so good.
Slowly working my way up through the leaf layer.
This painting has the word 'red' for the text, to go with the verse from the poem 'a bone in the garden of total eclipses'. The next painting of a red chair will have the word 'green'. Still a long way to go.
A bit more done. Eventually I'll finish the first layer of leaves, then I can repaint the whole thing two more times. I have done a little bit more work on the bottom right hand side.
Up 'til 2:30. Progress is slow, but I'll get there in the end.
Finally. Now I can start layer two.
A bit more done. Lots of late nights. Not finished yet. I am enjoying it.
Still working on the sky.
Finally finished. Well, it's signed, so it must be. Did some clouds for the sky. I've also started the red chair painting.
A better photo maybe. Finished.
Moss covers bone like a green velvet blanket,
there's nothing but entropy here,
wolves took the heart and the bones they could carry,
leaving us nothing but fear.
'a bone in the garden of total eclipses', #542 verse:4
Did the drawing, and painted the border blue.
This is the original photograph. This chair is in worse shape than the green one. I kind of like it like this.
Some of the leaves done. I like the way they look more than the ones on the green chair painting. They look more like leaves, and less like abstract shapes. Fun fun fun.
Stayed up late to finish the leaves. Layer one of three.
I really love the trees.
This is the top part of the painting. One layer of paint on everything so far, so it looks streaky from the brushstrokes. Layer two and three will smooth those out. I like it so far.
Everything with a base coat, except the lettering.
Turning up the volume on the colour.
More work on the background.
Finished. I want to do another one.
Photographs, just for themselves.
Hydrangea in the snow. Soft focus.
Ice Y photo. I took this photograph of frozen lake ice near the art gallery, in Peterborough.
I had a print made to hang in the bathroom.
Curled shell on a black volcanic sand beach, in New Zealand.
Shell, Saona Island, Dominican Republic.
Cactus flower, Dominican Republic.
Leaf, Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.
Peeling paint, Fenlon Falls.
Door on a chimney, Oshawa.
Door, in Paris, Ont.
Chris and Dot.
Reflection on the wall.
Sepia Lily, Paris, Ont.
'Blur', car wash photo.
A photo from the '70's.
An icicle over a sign, in Paris, Ont.
And another one.
Quetzal, Monteverdi Cloud Forest, Costa Rica.
Flower, butterfly conservatory, Monteverdi Cloud Forest, Costa Rica.
Flower, butterfly conservatory, Costa Rica.
Leaves, Costa Rica.
A rogue iris that bloomed in the front flower border.
This is an older work. I've experimented with different formats for putting poetry and images together to make one work of art that serves both forms. If the poem is short, then I can get it onto a canvas without it becoming too large. So far, the largest works have been 36 x 36 inches. If the poem is longer then it becomes difficult to get the whole thing on a canvas, with images to go with it. I started by doing collages in the computer, then cutting them out and gluing them to the canvas, and painting the background. They're interesting close up, but I don't feel they work as well from a distance. My next solution was to pick one verse, and enlarge one word or phrase in the verse. This produces a better image from a distance, but then you're not getting the whole poem. My next solution was to write a book, and have the paintings beside the entire poem. I'm still working on that. It's like juggling chainsaws.
About the writing: I started out by writing verses, and counting the number of syllables.
It took me 190 poems to figure out why this worked sometimes, and didn't work other times.
The basic idea is that you're singing, even when you're speaking. Every syllable is a note. You can play the words, syllable by syllable on a piano, or other instrument. Unfortunately, I'm not very musical. I wrote one verse as musical notation, for the book 'dancing down entropy street'. I had to get a music writing program for the computer. I got a free version of Forte. It was a struggle to do it, but I managed to write a couple of bars of music to go with a verse from the poem 'mechanical failure. I'd like to read a poem, and have back-up vocalists, like back-up singers, who say one word or one line of the poem at the same time as I do. I think it would sound interesting. I'd like to make a one-verse video, where you can read the verse, hear the music, and see the music written as a score. This could take some time to research, but as they say, Google is your friend.
This painting/collage is called 'anchor'. It's about my mother, Trudy Small, who was a great artist. There are only 8 verses.
'She moves like the world leans hard to the right',
the first line is about the day we were out for a walk, and she started leaning to the right.
I didn't realize she was having a stroke. It took several hours before I finally figured it out.
The heart-shaped stone came from a beach in New Zealand, also called 'the land of the long white cloud'. The photo is of her as a bridesmaid at her friend Frankie's wedding.
The central heart is an air-dried sculpture I made, and painted, then photographed. The bones are real chicken bones, photographed.
'She slept with her head at the foot of the bed',
She was weak on her left side, and couldn't get in and out of the bed in the bedroom. There wasn't room to turn the bed around, and it was too hard to walk around the bed, so my dad put the pillow at the foot of the bed, and she slept upside down on the bed for the next four years.
This is the verse that goes with the central image of the skeleton dancing in high heels.
She lost years worth of memories when she had her stroke. This verse is about that.
This is a photograph of an anatomical skeleton from the dollar store. The verse is about the idea that there is an afterlife, which I actually don't believe in. It's wishful thinking. Voodoo. But all things are possible in art.
This is a close-up of the skeleton. It's going to be the cover of my book 'dancing down entropy street'. I started off with a red background, and painted the vines in reverse in black, on top of the red. It's harder to do, so more fun for me. The nightgown was an old curtain, which I sponged painted through, on top of the painted skeleton.
This is a verse for a poem called 'the unspoken language'. It's a small collage.
This is a small collage, with one verse, and attachments added to the bottom of the canvas.
They're beads, a chicken bone, a styrofoam moon with textured medium and pearls, and found objects.
I wake in a room, where time has no meaning,
confused by the look on your face,
you look at me like
you've never seen beauty,
shiver in the devil's embrace.
Close-up of the collage. I printed the images, then tore them out, then painted the background and edges, then collaged them onto the black canvas.
This was another solution. One verse per canvas, and the whole poem painted. I need better photos of this. They're only 8 x 10", so they were faster to do, but hanging them was a problem. It was hard to get them to hang perfectly level with each other. Also, they took up a lot of wall space.
This was version two of 'seaglass'. All the verses on one canvas. There are beads attached to the canvas on top of the collaged verses.
This was the form I finally settled on. One verse, with one word painted larger. I'm still printing the text on the computer and cutting it out and collaging it onto the canvas, which I've decided I don't like now. I have hand-painted all of the text, but that's a lot of work, and time consuming, but it makes a cleaner image. There's also a lower limit to the size of the text I can paint that way.
'the circus of the walking dead'
This is the painting with the text hand lettered. I like it.
I also do very small works, sometimes without a verse of poetry, just a few words. This is an altered corned beef lid, with a recycled tube of glue, a spring, beads, wire, and a magnetic poem words 'drink' 'me', and beads with lettering 'now'. It's about Alice in Wonderland's bottle that said 'drink me'. They're fun to make, and they don't take long to do, which is great if you're the kind of person who likes to finish things.
This will be the last painting I have to do for the book I'm working on. I finally figured out what I was doing wrong with the word processing program. It's too late for Christmas, but at least I'm making progress. The poem is called 'weeping for a crow'.
The clouds release their sorrw
in a scattering of snow,
like he's a cradle rocking,
weeping for a crow.
'weeping for a crow' #339 verse:21
As you can see, I haven't got very far, but 3 a.m. is as late as I want to stay up.
Painted the base coat of colour on the bones.
Close up. It's fun to paint bones.
Finished painting the skull. Started working on the left elbow. I like high contrast images. The text will be painted next. It's drawn in pencil, but it doesn't show up on this photo.
Added the dark crimson halo around the skeleton, and behind it. Not finished yet. How is it that every painting I work on is my favourite? Until the next one...
Another layer of paint on the bones. I didn't have time to do the skull. 3 a.m. is late enough.
I'm happy with the way it's going. I always want to finish, so I can see what it looks like.
Pink over the red background, text. Saving the crow for last.
Added a nest to the inside of the torso. A bit of light hit the canvas from the window.
Close-up of the nest.
Pink over the red background, with a few lines of red left as a design element. Not finished yet. I still have to do around the lettering, and paint the details on the crow.
Painted the pink around the text. That just leaves the crow to finish.
Changed the crow. Not sure if it's finished or not.
Close-up of the crow. One layer of blue on the black, I think it needs another one.
Layer one. I'm getting to the end of my book, but I have a few images I need to do for it. I'm having some technical difficulties with the word processing program that I'm trying to resolve. I had hoped to have been finished by August, but now the new deadline is Christmas. If I don't make that, then sometime in the new year. I have one more painting to do after this one, for the poem 'weeping for a crow'. I have lots of poems I'd like to include, but I'm up to 125 pages now so I think I should stop. I can always make another book, right?
So, a few more layers of paint, and it's almost finished. I have to refine the yellow haze around the cockroach. Is it weird that I like him? The poem that goes with this image is called ess oh ess.