Art Chick Shtick: Under the Sea (in Warwick)

"unquestionably genuine"(inspired by a sailer's valentine) 24 x24 x 4, mixed media on cradled birch--vinegar paint, vintage mother of pearl buttons, vintage silk velvet, vintage game piece, ephemera, hand-stitched

When I heard that Jen O'Connor's spring event would have the theme "Under the Sea" my first thought was base my work on one of my favorite-favortite poems--Romance by Robert Louis Stevenson:

I WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a palace fit for you and me,
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.

I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.

And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!
That only I remember, that only you admire,
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.

<<Red Vevet Cake (vintage silk velvet)

Are Jennifer Lanne and Nicole Bowen adorable or what?

The final painting (it's very large--like 36 x 48 or something like that--on cradled birch) was inspired by another poem and sums up my feelings of longing and fear of the sea--years ago I lived in Connecticut on a property directly on the beach. As much as I loved watching my children play on the beach I was also constantly vigilant and cautious of the hurricanes and stormy weather. A real love/hate relationship...

O Captain! My Captain!
By Walt Whitman'

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

The arm beneath your head!

It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

But I with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

Jen has these paintings now so please ask her if you would like to see details--many of the larger pieces are on cradled birch--there are LOTs of fancy paint techniques so if you want to know anything feel free to email so I can explain. The hand-stitching is not just on the surface so these are quite a bit more labor intensive and quite honestly I'm pooped so I'm not going to paint or sew or anything for the next week while I get the household ready to head back to Woodstock.

And now you'll have to please excuse me while I brag about how cute my kids are--check out David's prom pics: