Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
It's the end of July. That means it's almost August. That means it's almost Fall. That means summer is almost over. That means I'm already feeling anxious (actually, that's a constant state of mind for me, but maybe a little more at the moment) because my favorite time of the year is almost gone again. I'll say good-bye to open windows, birds waking me in the mornings, digging in the dirt, dreaming of what my gardens should look like, iced coffee, barbeques. I'm working myself into a tizz. Where are my antidepressants???
So I'll be posting summer pictures.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
MEA CULPA. My penance for botching Betsy Carmichael's name so incredibly in my last post. I called her Emily Charmichael. Screwed up on both of them for some insane reason. So, to let you know about Betsy, click on the title of this blog to see her new blog and her beautiful work. Betsy teaches at the Baylor School in chattanooga, lives in the most wonderful bungalow, and travels in the summer with her students to Europe on painting expeditions. What a life.
This is Dorothy. Dorothy modeled for us during my pastel workshop at the Baylor School in Chattanooga a few weeks ago. I had the pleasure to work with a great bunch of kids, and Betsy Carmichael, their art teacher. Every time I go to Chattanooga, I leave trying to figure out how I can live there. It's a wonderful artsy place. And beautiful. Maybe one day...
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
And here was the guy who made the hats. He just sat there and worked as the women preened in front of the mirror. Occasionally he'd assist his customers in the proper way to wear the hat, or which would probably look best. All the women left his booth proudly wearing his sculptures on their heads.
Posted by Margaret Dyer at Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Some jazz musicians performing at an outdoor art show.
I'm actually kind of missing the art festivals. I have virtually quit doing them because of the increasing expense and dwindling sales. I've been concentrating on my galleries and teaching instead the past couple of years. But it was always a wonderful feeling to load up my Chevy Express with framed art and all my equipment during Atlanta's miserable February weather, and head south on 75. Twelve hours later I'd be pulling into 80º Miami weather, surrounded by palm trees. For four days I'd share hotel rooms with artist friends, catch up on their year, enjoy dinner together with our hard-earned money, later I'd return home, stopping in at antique malls along the way, with a pocket full of cash. Only to get right back to work in my studio upon coming home, to prepare for the next show a month later. My summers, for many years, were a frenzy of painting, framing, driving, selling, driving, painting, framing, driving, selling, driving, painting, framing, driving, selling, driving. Things would come to a screeching halt in November, giving me plenty of time to devote to the holidays. By February, I'd be more than ready to head down to Miami again.
Nowadays I affectionately pat my dependable van when I pass it on my way to the studio. We talk of converting it to a camper.
Posted by Margaret Dyer at Friday, July 11, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
These are friends who canoed down the New River with my husband and me, near our home in west Georgia. If my durned camera hadn't been so slow, I could have gotten a shot of Bonnie standing at the bow of the canoe, a la George Washington crossing the Potomac. It was very funny at the time. My husband and I once took a canoe trip down New River in the moonlight--a full moon in mid summer. The river was as calm as a lake. The picture is burned in my mind--beautiful.
Now this may sound like I'm some sort of outdoors person, but I've actually only been camping once in my life, much to my husband's chagrin. And I couldn't sleep the entire night for the trickling sound of a creak nearby. I kept wondering when someone was going to turn that #$%@* water off.
Posted by Margaret Dyer at Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
I sold my work at art festivals for 15 years--shows where only original work was sold. I traveled to Chicago, San Francisco, New York, Miami and more with my van full of art. At one particular show, the artist across from me sold his incredible hats, many of which were more like sculpture. All 3 days of the show I sat bemused as women of every shape and size tried on hats and struck poses in front of a full length mirror.
Posted by Margaret Dyer at Saturday, July 05, 2008
Friday, July 4, 2008
Please forgive me for any duplicate emails you may have gotten yesterday. My post was up, then it wasn't, so I posted it again. And then an older post, with a sold piece, got inadvertently published again. Maybe I'd better stay away from the computer.
This piece, "A Classic", is from a Carroll County garden show a few weeks ago. Carrollton Artists braved almost 100º weather and set up easels in the participating gardens to paint. Our wet paintings were hung that evening in a local gallery (Bradley Street Gallery). This particular subject caught my eye. I think I'm more comfortable with more structural things like buildings, cars, and people. Gardens, as much as I love them, overwhelm me when I try to paint them. Can't find a focal point, too much green. Let me just find something concrete to deal with.
Posted by Margaret Dyer at Friday, July 04, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Actually, she was a nuclear physicist. Really. She's the wife of an artist, who posed for one of my workshops in Huntsville, AL. She took my class one day, having never drawn in her life. I taught her measuring and something about color and values, and she produced a really nice piece. She was thrilled. So was I.
I've been way too busy. I'm sure I've been forgotten. I've been teaching in Chattanooga, playing cars with little Victor, trying to revive my perennials in this drought (my lawn crunches when I walk on it), and staring at blank canvases waiting for inspiration. Can't say I'm inspired yet, but I'm back. These are my two daughters, Anna and Meg, playing 'Go Fish' for me and my camera. It'll be a while before we're all together again; Anna, Victor and her husband are moving to Alaska, where Gerry will be stationed (he's an Army Ranger). Wonderful for little Victor, horrible for me.