Last year's hummingbird Twelve for Twelve was a lesson in listening. I didn't set out to paint twelve hummingbirds, but one day led to the next, and the series came together as an acceptance and a  celebration of the whole of life with its joys and challenges. 
​
Beginning. 
Building. 
Guarding.
Fledging. 
Flying.
Watching. 
Resting.
Falling.
Supporting.
Praising.
Savoring. 
Ending.

​"We are more than the clouds. We are the whole sky." 

This year, I don't have much of a plan yet, either. But the Wren has been the subject of Day 1 and Day 2. This little "King of Birds" has a rich history in symbol and myth. Celtic mythology considered the Wren a symbol of the past year. This little bird is known to sing, even in the dead of winter. The wren's symbolic Celtic meanings include activity, vibrancy, alertness and efficiency. St. Stephens Day is Ireland was for centuries celebrated by killing a wren. Read more here. ​

Share

My good friend, Temple, gave me a wren's nest from her front porch as a birthday gift last year. It was almost unrecognizable as a nest, but its roots and twigs have been near my painting area all year and have served as inspiration. I had a different idea for a starting place for this Twelve for Twelve series, but yesterday as I was sketching and preparing, my son Kyman called my attention to a wren that was industriously working and singing outside our kitchen window. I took it as a sign, since these magical little birds rarely show themselves. And so, a wren is what I am beginning with today. More later about the fascinating symbolism of these tiny "Kings of birds". 

Share

I have to share this Haiku, written in response to this painting by my very talented friend, Russell Mays. 

Delicate sparrows
Tiny joy-filled reminders
God Loves every one

 “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?      Matthew 6:25-34

Share

The Fiddlemaker. 24x36. Oil on Panel.

Alfred Michels with his portrait. 2016

Alfred works with the film crew of "Mountain Minor" gettting ready for the scenes with his horses.

Share

Share

Share

"It is six A.M., and I am working. I am absentminded, reckless, heedless of social obligations, etc. The tire goes flat, the tooth falls out, there will be a hundred meals without mustard. The poem gets written. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. Neither do I have guilt. My responsibility is not to the ordinary, or the timely, It does not include mustard or teeth. It does not extend to the lost button or the beans in the pot. My loyalty is to the inner vision, whenever and howsoever it may arrive...."
Mary Oliver on Time, Concentration, the Artist's Task, and the Central Commitment of the Creative Life" 

Share

Day 1: Beginning. 6x6 Oil and Silver Leaf on Panel. SOLD

Day 2: Building. 6x6 Oil and Silver Leaf on Canvas. Available $125

Day 3: Protecting. 6x6. Oil and Silver Leaf on Panel. SOLD.

Share

Free. 5x7 Oil on panel. SOLD

What better way to begin the New Year than with a painting challenge? I've set a goal of completing a painting a day for twelve days from New Year's Day until my birthday on January 12th. I have a dozen more 6"x6" panels on the way. Those who have seen me at work know that I put many hours into each piece, so there may be a lack on sleep on the horizon.

Share

Barbry Allen. Oil on Canvas. 36x48. 2012.

And Still We Rise. Walnut ink and Watercolor sketch created in 2013 as we struggled to process Shane's worsening condition.

The Sparrow came back the day of Shane's funeral. And this is where it gets powerful. I was taking the sketch and a portrait of Shane to Dan, the funeral director, so that he could set up for the service. As I opened the back door to load the artwork, a sparrow flew up out of the back seat, hovered in the air, looked me in the eye, and flew out the open window on the other side. From that moment, I was lifted up and filled with a peace that is beyond understanding. I didn't shed another tear that day. Over the next few days, I created a felted wool sculpture of the sparrow.

The Messenger. Felted Wool. 2014.

Shelter. 9x12. Oil on Panel. This painting resides in the collection of a great mentor, Ms. Evelyn Cook. Not long after she hung this painting, her dear husband, Ed, left this world. She says that the painting brings her peace.

After about a year of feeling numb, I was really struggling with the pain of losing both grandmothers and consumed by grief. I didn't know how I'd pick up and go on. I found myself at my Grandma's grave, deep in prayer. It was January and patches of snow were on the ground. It started to get dark. I knew my kids needed dinner. I picked some moss and dried oak leaves off the ground and some orange birch leaves still hanging from a tree and headed home. Later that evening as I sat at the easel, I had an idea what I wanted to paint. But the birch leaves wanted to be in my painting, so I gave in and started with them. By the time they were done, thorns had decided they would be there too, and they would weave into a mass of celtic knotwork.. When that was done, the sparrow made his appearance, and again, there was peace. I started with an idea of what I wanted to paint, but the painting took on a life of its own and told me what it needed to be. This is the way that life works. We can let go of trying to understand, trying to work it out or control anything. We can trust that God will provide for our needs, and in His infinite wisdom, He has a plan that is greater than we could ever begin to understand.

Now, the Sparrow has appeared again. This time, I recognize him, and his message is familiar. It is a reminder as I grieve the third anniversary of Shane's death and leave the security of a teaching job to pursue the work that God intended for me. I will research and plan and I will work a grueling schedule to provide for my family, But in the end, I will simply trust that despite all my inadequacy and my shortcomings, that when I ask, God will provide for me and allow me to provide for my family as I do the work that I am called to do.

Trust. 24x36. Oil and Silver Leaf on Panel. SOLD (It isn't yet finished as I write this...it sold when the sparrow appeared. That was part of the message.

Share