https://www.wevideo.com/embed/#1183041672

Many years ago, during a brief stint as a technology teacher, I was sitting in the basement of the school building (isn’t is always a basement??) within the walls of my cinder-block office and pondering things, as I do. While thoughts were firing off into the ether I inadvertently found myself tracing the computer mouse at hand onto a piece of plain white paper.

Later that week, I began to play with the basic shape during my lunch periods.

The mouse became my mouse. I felt such a fondness for this two-dimensional fellow that I brought him home. And, lo, these many years he has been living quietly in my file flats undisturbed. Until now, during the pause in my life while I once again ponder things. He is “outed” and here, I introduce him to you. He may be a little cranky, but he makes me laugh.

Be kind to him, dear reader.


Drawn with a black marker and colored with crayons in 2003.

Advertisements

Lines

05/07/2018

 

lines2

LINES

Charcoal lines. All lines curve.

Slight curves, concave or convex,

carry one life lived

end to end.

©TH 2018

Work includes the use of Sumi ink, charcoal pencil, Derwent pastel pencils, Studio Series color pencils, freely drawn.

a toll

20/04/2018

This has not been a year of easing into aging. With retirement ahead, the days and months have elicited unrelenting attention to events filled with details that hold little meaning any longer. If one is in the constant state of readjusting one’s natural rhythms to the artificial, a toll is taken on body and spirit. Both of mine are bearing this toll. Through illness. Through a sense of fragmentation – the stress that builds from constant interruptions.

I long to do nothing. To be no one. To just exist and absorb the beauty of the world I find in my own small one. The plethora of birdsongs. The sun, on a cool windy day, seeping into my bones. The comforting weight of a warm blanket caressing my body as I lie still and silent. No obligations. No required responses. No pleasantries.

For a time, albeit, a small one in the longevity of my brief life on earth, I need this to ease into aging.

For now, I need to survive until that time in the oh so far, near future.


In my youth, I was at ease.

calligrapher 002

“The little girl…who tapped into her creativity to bring lesson plans, art projects, and bulletin boards to life…”

PH2

Our guest blogger is a retired, elementary school teacher who taught for decades with all her creative spirit be it math, history or science. Everything was infused with her joy of learning and always, with the creative spirit.


Submissions for guest posting on the “perfect O” are being accepted through the end of May 2018. Please submit your writing at my Contact page by clicking on this link.

 

the perfect O

26/03/2018

 

As a calligrapher, the two shapes to master are the straight line and the circle.

My affinity is with the circle.

So elegant. So whole.

So difficult to achieve.

Sheets of “o”s created with pointed pen, angled nibs, fat and thin brushes, fill empty spaces. Sheets upon sheets. With each new white, clean space hope is revived. During my twenty years as a calligrapher-artist, I have never mastered the circle. Yet, I have never lost my love and appreciation for this shape.

I have never lost hope.

Hope for wholeness.

Hope for an elegant world.

Hope that I may contribute to this by a mere stroke of the pen or brush.


Included are some studies of Os. Just the beginning. Always, the beginning.

Circle15

Circle25

 

 

Tribute2Seuss

Did you ever read his quirky book

While hiding in your special nook,

Or underneath your narrow bed, aloud,

or in your teeny head?

It’s fine to read together, too! (perhaps while learning to tie your shoe?)

If you are six and have a bigger brother,

The younger says one line, the older, the other.

In the end, they’re all read by mother

who goes from one to another, then another.

And then there’s dad who’s always glad (once he starts in fits and stops)

To read his favorite, Hop On Pop!

We smile big. Our mouths get wide.

We shake our heads from side to side.

We read each book. Our tongues get loose.

Oh, thank you, thank you, Dr. Seuss!

 

Tina Hudak,  Tribute to Dr. Seuss, ©1995 an artist’s book created with fabric, pastels, calligraphy & pencil.


Today I was introduced to a contest for which I submitted a very abbreviated version of the story below that I wrote in honor of Dr. Seuss. His writings dominated our lives during my boys’ childhoods – stories we all enjoyed, and those which I have continued to teach to my older students for their meaning & messages behind the words, such as The Lorax.
A thank you to both Brenda Davis Harsham and Vivian Kirkfield, “WordPress” bloggers.

9 x 12 World

27/08/2017

Stone1.jpgIn order to create art, I have learned, the habits of working with materials, focusing on the task at hand, and the ability to shut out all “noise” must be daily. This is one which I have lost during the years of being a school librarian. However, all is not lost. Materials – pencils, paints, and inks – and my play remain important to me, especially during the summer. Few of these materials I have kept within the confines of my “art cupboard” despite the two decades where I immerse myself in children’s literature, lesson plans, and pedagogical dictates.

While books, especially children literature has always been a part of my adulthood, a box of Crayola watercolors, Studio Series color pencils, Windsor & Newton drawing inks several drawing pencils, eraser, and sketchbook are the tangibles giving shape to my art world, small as it is, this summer.

Two stones – one from 1986 when my husband and I were on the Mediterranean coast of France; the other, a recent gift from a friend who visited as a teacher-artist on a Greek island.

The works you see here are not complicated or even well thought out. Simply, they are my summer sandbox. They are my play. They connect me with a sliver of my past history and more than this, they nurture the quiet. To be in the moment where it is only about the lines, the colors and the spaces in between.


Mediterranean stone, approx 4″ (2″ at the narrow point)

GrkStonesGrkStonesdetail

Greek island stone, approx 1 /34 x 1/2 “

written to honor my husband, MRG and my friend, BC, who gifted me with these stones

Walking home

18/03/2017

cup2

Sharp intervals

17/03/2017

wire3

Sharp Intervals 

Assaulted by tone

The guise of caring Read the rest of this entry »

July4Art.part three

11/08/2016

I am reluctant to do this. Share. Having dragged out my low artistic energy into August, I admit, right here – right now – that it is a “failure.” Did I create something? Yes. Can one call it art? Yes. Did it fulfill me? No. Absolutely not. No way. And here, dear reader, lies the most valuable experience (from which I have yet to dissect, analyze, and learn).  This failure is a teaching moment for my Self.

I know and feel this: I cannot go back. Back to former techniques and past imagery.

Daylilysmall

 

evening sketch –  sitting outside

 

I know and feel this, too: I must go forward. Forward with simplicity. Forward with eyes open.


 

%d bloggers like this: