All the varied nuances of the artichoke come to light in this small painting. This globe with it's pine cone appearance is a perennial in the thistle group of the sunflower family. The "vegetable" that we eat is actually the plant's flower bud. If allowed to flower, the blossoms measure up to seven inches in diameter and are a beautiful violet-blue color. It probably resembles the musk-thistle, considered a noxious weed in many states.
What is this happy golden retriever thinking as gazes into your eyes in such a loving manner. A piece of grass was plucked from his chin, as he settled into this comfortable pose. "What are they going to feed me? My family surrounds me and I love them so much!" He was a special pet in the lives of our family friend's, coming to stay with us when they were out of town. His name was Kiowa, named after a small town in Colorado where he was born.
The day waned into the afternoon, as the sun began to cast long slanting rays across the land. What a spectacular view, as the landscape took on a jewel-like quality. It shone like a thousand tiny diamonds, even the grasses seemed to vibrate. Painting on site wasn't an option, so my camera kept the image alive a while longer. Later during isolated studio time, it was ressurected on the clayboard surface. And through all that shimmering, the sounds of water, breeze, rustle of brush and bird calls awakened again the joy I felt at the time.
This second painting in the black clayboard series, shows the beauty of autumn along the Yakima River in Benton City. Skeletal trees embrace the banks of the river, their fringe of cheat grasses and cattails add a decorative element.
This starts a small series, created by scratching into black clayboard and then applying light passages of watercolor tints. The inspiration was a photo of a towering pine tree that I saw while visiting Birch Bay up by Bellingham, Washington. The mighty tree was a strong presence during my stay there. 
This was painted in the fall of last year. I now realize I hadn't posted it earlier. The still life was staged in the studio and the pears that had been there didn't make the final painting--they started to decay. So the small leaf on the far left was added instead. I call it my still life landscape. I had planned to add more sky and hillsides in the background, but decided to keep it simple.
I love to jump from a serious painting to one a little more light hearted and intuitive in nature. Someone asked me recently "what exactly is your style?" I guess I have multiple styles and that all these images represent the multiple moods and emotions. A rather perceptive acquaintance once told me that they could see the same rhythm and flow in my work no matter what the subject matter or style. Even the master painter's work represents this evolution and dichotomy of style. I find myself attracted to diverse aspects of many different paintings. Such as, the beauty and luminosity of Lord Leighton's draped figure: "Solitude", to Van Gogh's heralding of modern art. 
I was told that grapes represent vitality and long life, and so the picker's hand emerges from the vines. Could this be seen as something much deeper -- the divinity we hold within? I try not to verbally define it too much, allowing for the viewers own interpretation.
It's getting on about sunrise in the Pacific Northwest. The fog lightly dusts the treetops, while the sunlight gets tangled in the moisture there. The air is crisp, the water is a melodious tone of blue and gold and pink. An ethereal glow cloaks the landscape.
