PiderWitch Creations
The latest sketch drawn from a picture of a bust. I don’t know who did the bust as I found it on the internet. It looked like it would be fun to do and though I don’t have the head tilt completely accurate, I am getting better at it.
Been working more on practicing copying classic sketches. I’m rather proud of this one. I got really close to the picture I was copying from. Had to make some changes on one of the sides when I realized the proportions were a bit off. But, that is part of the learning process.
Did some final work on “English Boom” I’m going to enter it in a local gallery show. I’ll take another picture of it when its framed.
Here is my first painting done on location. I only fell once in the process, but it was on sand, so my fall was broken and not my body. The swallows were full of energy and kept a chatter up almost the entire time I was there. I think they wanted to be noticed. The eagles nest at the entrance fell, but that doesn’t seem to have deterred the pair from continuing to make it their hangout. All in all it was a wonderful morning. I think I like this painting on location.
Working on my drawing skills again and using a book of classic art plates to sketch from. Feet have always intimidated the hell out of me, but I think I am starting to get the hang of them. I guess there is something to be said about copying the masters. You learn much from doing so.
New oil painting from a photo I took while on a walk along the bridge connecting my island to the mainland. I rather like the way this one came out and there is even a lady I work with that may be interested in buying it once I have it framed. I’m going to let it dry and then decide if it needs any further detail work before signing it as complete.
When I lost my little Floofster, Cassie, the pet company Chewy sent me a bouquet of flowers in sympathy. I was stunned at this. I have never heard of a company that did such a thing, but it was very touching. I decided to immortalize these blooms with a painting. At the front is her favorite toy, a feather wand. She was very picky about her “feathers”. I brought many of these into the house, but she only liked this particular type and I lost the source for them. Hence, the rather ragged look of it. But, she loved that wand and would holler through the house with it in her mouth when she wanted you to play with her.
Thought I would try something different for my first attempt at a Still Life painting. I found Henri at a thrift store and they had already named him. Yes, he really is missing an eye. They put the sunglasses on him out of “pity” for his lost eye. That was one of the reasons I bought him. And its charm is added to by the sun faded yellow eye. Figured he needed to be surrounded by oddments to add to his character, so I put in a vase of dead flowers and a stuffed rat. Oh, and placed a dart in his hand.
How long was he going to stare out the window like that? Sadie wondered. He had asked about Nathan. She hadn’t thought about Nathan in years. It was all a closed or cold case file, she thought. And isn’t he ever going to speak?
Suddenly, he turned and faced her sideways. “What lovely roses you have? My wife would be so envious. Whatever do you use to fertilize them to get them to grow so full and lush?”
She stared at him, bewildered. “Huh?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I thought we were talking about Nathan.”
“Ah yes.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” She said softly. “But, I think I told them everything before. Has something new come up? Have you found Nathan?”
“Oh, no no no, nothing like that. I just wanted to go over what you remember about the last time you saw him. Can you go over the details again?”
She told him what she had told the detectives the last time. The man nodded as she laid out the details, his gaze frequently turning to the window again. What was his fascination with her roses? Finally, she finished and he flipped the notebook shut, then slipped it back into his pocket.
“I think I have it all” he said. “Thank you again for your time and patience.”
“But, of course.” She replied “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No. I should be on my way.” He stated flatly and turned towards the door. As he opened the door, he paused and looked again at the garden, then turned back at her. “The roses, Sadie. Please tell me what you do to grow such beautiful roses.”
She stood there a moment, confused at the man, then she smiled brightly. “But, of course.” She responded. “Its just a simple blood and bone meal mixture my mother gave me the recipe for.”
“Any chance you could be persuaded to share that?”
“Alas, no. Its been a tightly held secret in my family for generations. We have actually won numerous awards for our roses. But, I am sure you could find something similar if you did a search.”
“Of course, I understand. That’s too bad though. My wife will be so disappointed. Thank you again for your time.” And with that, he walked down the path to his car and drove away.
Sadie walked out and strode over to her roses, her hand gently petting one of the luxurious blooms. She leaned over and took a deep whiff of its intoxicating scent, then a smile formed on her lips. Mother always said the only thing husbands were good for were fertilizing the roses.
“Good night, Nathan.” Sadie called behind her as she walked back into the house. “Sleep well.”
Copyright 07/28/21 Sephi PiderWitch
It started as a minor altercation. A reporter came to their country to do a story on some event that was taking place. What event, you ask? Well, the event doesn’t matter, but since you asked, it was a celebration on the outskirts of their main city. He was, at this event, invited to a formal function at the palace the next night. To bring his camera and his notebook so he could go back to his own country and tell them of the magnificence of this country he had visited. To comment on how well he was treated and the greatness of the people who lived there. And that was the beginning of when things went wrong.
They were a foolish people who believed that a reporter from another country would do as their reporters did and report what they were approved to. They were foolish in that they trusted he would speak only to the proper people, photograph only the best and most beautiful they had. They believed in this, they trusted in this knowledge, and so they trusted him. It was a mistake they were not likely to repeat.
He returned to his country and began to write a series of reports on what he had seen there. The bustling fair and market of the celebration, the people in their colorful clothing, richly died cottons and silks. The heavy scents of the food aisles full of exotic herbs mingled in simmering pots thick with meats and hearty vegetables. Bright banners and streamers flew from every post on every stall. Even the ground itself was suffused with the smells of the carnivale, the droppings and leavings of all the goers mixing and coalescing with the dirt and sweat and dog feces.
On the surface, it all looked like a pleasure fair of a happy people. It took a discerning eye to see past the bright facade and peer into the shadows behind. And that is the mark the reporter was known for. He found the shadow side and slipped into it and reached out a hand of friendship to it. Gladly was it greeted and he was welcomed by the fires and stories shared. He found the same such outstretched hands in the staff at the castle and passed many hours unnoticed by his hosts as missing, so busy they were with their royal festivities.
All of this came out in his pages. Not the stories of the bright celebration, the glorious royal family, the richness of the castle and the opulence of the ball. Or rather, those things did shine forth in his words, but in exposing the cost to the people. He told of the dismal conditions so many lived, the oppression, the lack of simple basic needs. He told of the jokes the royal family made of the peasants in their kingdom, how they had added a new tax this last month to fund their ball. He told it all and laid them bare.
To say that they were not pleased is an understatement. They sent official demands that the words be retracted, an apology offered. It fell on deaf ears. The country of the reporter and the neighboring countries joined in a condemnation of the country, demanding they give a voice to their people, allow them a part in the workings of the country. The angry exchange lasted for months till it was threatened by the oppressive country more drastic measures would be taken.
Who it was that came up with the idea in the reporter’s country, no one is sure or can no longer remember. That it was a work of brilliance, none can deny. That it made the world sit up and take notice the news can attest.
Through the dead of night a few small planes flew, just under the radar, seeking out the capital and the surrounding townships to release their loads. Tiny parachutes dotted the skyline, floating gently to the ground in the pre-dawn air. Each carrying a single load, a small teddy bear each holding its own unique message for peace, democracy, hope. More than a thousand of them littered the landscape when the people emerged from their homes. More than a thousand that were met with cries of joy from the children and snatched up by all to take back to their homes with them. What a sight it was if you were fortunate enough to be awake to see it. Even in the night dark skies, you could see the tiny white parachutes dancing in the wind currents of the air as they made their way earthward.
The military tried to order the return of the bears, but they only were offered up a small fraction of those that came. They tried threatening with new laws making it a crime to be caught with one of the bears and that seemed to have little impact.
The royal family was furious that their air space had been so easily breached and a few of the highest officers lost their command from it. Then came the talks to figure out what to do about the situation. They couldn’t retaliate with violence. That could incur the wrath of the rest of the nations and they were ill equipped for a full war. In the end, they decided to retaliate with the same. And the next day, their own planes flew over their enemies capital and townships and dropped its own load of teddy bears with their own messages.
All was quiet for a few days and it seemed the news was quiet on the subject. Then another morning dawned with another littering of bears across the land. And soon after, another volley in the other direction, all plush arms holding a message for their neighbor across the border.
The toy factories began working overtime to keep up with the demand by the two governments. When they ran out of the bears, they began shipping their other stores, their bunnies, kittens, puppies, wild animals and fantasy creatures, the dragons, the fairies, the griffons.
The news headlines around the world were in a frenzy over the strange war going on. Each day’s headline marked as the animal or creature of the day. The day of the bunnies, the day of the dragons.
It went on for months and months. By the end of the year, the toy makers had no animals to ship to the stores for children’s presents. All being consigned for the ongoing war effort. Christmas dawned with tears in children’s eyes at not getting their Christmas bear and again on Easter when their basket held no bunnies. No Valentine bears to give your sweetheart jewelry, no boo-boo bears to give your friend in the hospital.
What had started off as a source of amusement had now started to affect the rest of the world. Most importantly, the children. Demands were made to reconcile, negotiate and put an end to this very long war. At first they went unheeded till sanctions were laid till they agreed to meet at a bargaining table. The bears had sparked a rebellion in the one country. Concessions were made to give more voice to the people. Agreements for more mutual respect. A treaty of peace signed and witnessed. The bears were to fly no more.
Never before had a war been waged with a teddy bear. It is hard to tell if any ever will be again. It will go down in history as the war that dropped bombs of joy. Peace was achieved and lives made better. And throughout it all, not a single life was lost. Well, except for the drunk that fell asleep on the beach and choked to death on plush when a bear landed on his face. But, no one speaks of that incident.
SephiPiderWitch
08/04/12
