I finished BIG Burano!

What I love about this painting is that they do everything in Burano with style!  I am telling the truth- I did not change the color on any of the hanging laundry. Isn't that fantastic!  Everywhere you look in Burano is a painting waiting to be painted.  This was fun I say, very fun!

Cardboard box creation

Oh what fun to go to an artsie friends house and play. If you want to paint freely, with no thought to the cost of the canvas or paints, paint on the side of a cardboard box, with your least expensive acrylics!  Pure art therapy I say.

Crooked Wooden Bench

I can't believe I forgot to post Crooked Wooden Bench. 
Today is a great day for it!
Here it is poetry lovers!

When you're resting at the beach

on a crooked wooden bench,

your hair is rather tusseled,

and you're looking like a wench-

reading a good novel,

squishing sand between your toes,

and you're thinking of your friends,

in the cold land where it snows-

and you're feeling rather guilty,

bout the sun, the surf, the sand,

and their huddled in their coats,

in their cloudy snowy land.

Venture out into the water,

DRAT, here comes a jelly fish!

And you feel that dreaded sting-

for their cloudy home you wish.

So if you're here, or if you're there,

in their clouds, or in your sand,

don't take your day for granted.

Either place- it can be grand. 

By Jill and Gale

art and fear

I am reading a wonderful book about art and fear, amazingly called Art  and Fear, by Bayles and Orland. Here are a few quotes that have spoken to me-
Vision is always ahead of execution. Ok, what is that?  Well to me it means, I can imagine a great painting, but when I put paint to the canvas, it is not as amazing as I first imagined. The reason is that my skill is not where my imagination is. This is ok.
A finished piece is in effect, a test of correspondence between imagination and execution.  Oh my, that is a very large thought, but I get it!  Guess I might need to shrink my imagination a bit.  ;-)
And last but not least is this-
The lessons you are meant to learn are in your work. To see them, you need only to look at the work clearly-without judgement, without need or fear, without wishes or hopes. Without emotional expectations. Ask your work what it needs, not what you need. Then set aside your fears and listen, the way a good parent listens to a child.
Lets try that.
I am looking at my Mc Cuddinish man. There are many problems, under his bottom lip all the way down his chin, his nose shadow, his hair, his muddy face etc. But there are a few things right. The main subject is where his streight back has the most contrast... Um, I guess that would be wrong too. I imagine the main subject would be his face, not his very important back. ok. Hie face is placed in a good spot on the canvas (not center, different distance from edges etc)  AND he is entertaining! I like this way too important man, with his little tiny eye, and his very important suit.  Thats about all.
Hope this gave you artsie fartsies something to think about.  Jill

Sweater bag

Sometimes there is nothing as comforting as cutting up your old favorite too small sweater, and making a purse of it. I loved this zip up sweater, and used it. I lined it with some old silky fabric, and a bit of cut up kimono silk. This was fun!

The Silverware Song

The Silverware Song

We sing as we're polishing the forks.

That's why they say that we're the dorks.

We fold, we wipe, we roll them all,

from the very large to the very small.

We smile, we greet people we meet.

The jungle girls just can't be beat.

We bring such cheer from far to near

that it's my pleasure's all you hear.

Yes, we are silly, we are fun,

but at least we get the job done.

And some don't like to sing this song,

so I'll just sing it all day long.

They think that if they swipe the words

off of the wall, it soon shall fall.

But they don't know the song thats planted

in their heart brings joy to all!

fun with cloth

It is so delightful to go into the studio, with a dresser full of interesting fabrics, and just start putting them together. Here is the creation for the day.  Love the kimono silk lining!

Under Monets Tree

Under Monet's Tree

Sitting with the ducks under

Monet's weeping willow tree,

over to the left a batch

of seniors try tai chi.

Then a flock of nine strong geese

floating to the right,

my resting spot at Manito

today brings such delight.

The ducks seem to accept my chair,

they wander back near me.

We sit and watch the breeze weave through,

Monet's lacy willow tree.

A grown man comes running up

to scare the geese to flight,

my ducks and I just take a peek

and snicker at the sight.

We settle back into the breeze,

the quiet of the day,

the overwhelming peacefulness

makes it natural to pray.

So when you have a hectic life,

with stress swirling about,

a spot like this will clear your head,

of that I have no doubt.

new stupid creatures

You know, making these stupid creatures is such fun. There is no right or wrong way to make them, and when have a big "uh oh" really they just become more creative. Had fun making these the other day with my Sarah Moe.

Welcome!

Ink, Paint, and Cloth really is a better description of what this little spot is all about, don't you think?  Wonderful to have you here! Please follow me if you would like to. At this point I feel like a one person parade.  thanks friends, jill

Stay home and sneeze!

Guess I never posted my work poem. Wow, two in one day!


Stay Home and Sneeze

If you’re stuffy and sick
With a terrible disease
I am here to help
Stay home and sneeze.

If you need a day off
Just give me a call
Grab your keys and a friend
And go shop at the mall.

If your car won’t start
Or you run out of gas
I can work for you
This too shall pass.

If your friends call and say
“It’s a beautiful day”
I can come in to work
You go out and play.

So I wrote this little poem-
A goofy way to say
I will work for you
If the managers say “OK”

Silver Quarter

Have you found a silver quarter

among the quarters in your stash?

When you grab it very quickly

and just think it's small change cash.

Did you dump it on the table

hear a clink among the clank?

I found two within a week

I have only God to thank.

Now it's nothing very special.

It's just a little treat.

but It's like a little treasure

that you find beneath your feet.

Now James my friend, he looked it up

and found they're somewhat rare

especially when their is a "D"

I can't see it, but it's there.

So now I'm a collector,

 of the clink among the clank.

I will have a special jar

that will be my clinky bank.

Ink, Paint, and Cloth

An art show by

Jill Skeie

I will be having an art show displaying my watercolor and acrylic paintings, my hooked rugs,

and some of my poems thrown in just for fun.

Would love to have you come!

South Perry Pizza

 1101 south Perry

 Artist reception Thursday, from 5-8

The show will be there until July 20th,

Good morning. I just realized there are no rugs on my blog. Now what is a blog without rugs I ask? Nothing but cold feet.  So here are a couple hooked rugs that I had a great time making.

When I Grow up

I have been graciously invited to a dinner put on by the Big Table people tomorrow night. While I was sitting on the little deck this morning having my coffee, out popped a poem for them.  here goes...

When I grow up
I will be a guest,
fun shoes and a hat,
creatively dressed.

I won't wear an apron,
or non-skid black shoes,
but will pick a silk dress,
in my fa-vo-rite blues.

Won't carry four dinners,
up over my head,
feel that everyday ache,
when I hit the bed.

I'll walk in and say
"Yes, a table for four,
over there by the window,
not near the front door"

"May I have a lemon
for my water please?
And an appie of rosemary
crackers with cheese?"

"Oh yes, take my plate
and refill my glass."
Oh here she comes now,
with my lemon sea bass.

And when it's all done,
and the evening is through,
I'll tell you what this
gray old lady will do.

They'll wheel me and lift me,
back onto the bus,
to the brick nursing home.
I won't make a fuss.

To my spot in the hall
with a smile on my face,
I'll be so very glad,
to be done with this race.

So that's how I see it,
some day when I'm old.
But that's not today,
I have napkins to fold.

Two Me's

Have you ever been a waitress? Well that is what I do, at a fantastic, fantastic place. This little poem is what happened to me yesterday. I was serving a baby shower on one side of a wall with very happy people celebrating the new little life. On the other side of the wall, I was serving very sad people from a funeral that should not have happened.  Here's what came out...

Serving two sides
of a wall made of brick
being two Me's
will be quite a trick.

One side of pink
of giggles and glee,
wondering what this
new life will be.

One side of gray,
of black, and of brown.
Of faces too sad,
too sad for a frown.

How do I approach,
both sides of the wall?
Cheerful and bubbles,
invisible and small.

I'll offer dessert,
It is worth a shot.
Don't know about them
It helps me a lot.

Not one bite of a treat,
they're too sad to taste,
Oh, if I could help,
not a minute I'd waste.

What will pop through?

What's up? What's new?
What will pop through?
The ground will show
me life to view.

Will it be red,
white, pink, or blue,
or just a leaf,
with pale green hue?

The spring is what,
 the yard is for.
Winter will soon knock
back on the door.

So enjoy each sprout,
that pops it's head.
Last week the ground,
was all but dead.

Get out, enjoy,
this is your chance,
you have three weeks,
 a short spring dance!

(funny what pops in my mind while I am washing my hair)  :-)

One Legged Seagull

So I was on a little picnic at my Manito pond, and this little one legged seagull just stood close by me and just waited for me to write her a poem.  Here it is..

My dear one legged seagull,
just standing next to me,
get up and flap your wings,
and fly-you will be free.

Oh I know you have but one good leg,
you have convinced me it is true
but if you flap those silly wings,
your joy, it will be new.

You'll fly over my Manito,
and see amazing things.
Stop looking at your one lone foot,
and flap your big white wings.

Over the old men on the bench,
chatting up about the day.
Over the boys, run-ning along,
with fishing net they play.

You'll fly over all the houses,
with people in the yard.
Enjoy your flight, one legged friend,
though flapping might be hard.

Oh yes you'll see gulls trot about,
on nice webbed feet of two,
but fly my friend, enjoy the day,
Your wings were made for you!

The Back of Mona Lisa

The Back of Mona Lisa

I unscrew the glass, when the tourists had past.

and the guard was asleep in the hall.

Then lift it off gingerly, making no sound,

off that wonderful world famous wall.

Just a moment I seek, to take a quick peek,

to see if the rumors are true,

that Da Vinci was just a regular guy

just exactly like me and like you!

So I pull off the backing, not making a sound,

so anxiously waiting my treat-

when I heard the drea sound, just like an old hound

of the thump of the wakened guards feet.

Quicken my pace to reveal, so quickly to peel,

the backing off that famous face.

Must be gentle I say, or I'll have to pay,

in jail for this curious race.

Just a glance at the back, of Lisa's great face.

told me it was worth it all,

for there I did see, a bugar so old,

hidden right there on that famous wall.

He wiped it in haste, while working one day,

on the right hand of Mona Lisa.

His model was hungry, and so they did stop

for a sip, and a bite of cheese pizza.

So because of the hunger of look alike Lisa,

we get just a bit of a view,

of Leonardo the great, painter of late,

who's so much like me and like you.

by Jill Skeie

Manito

Manito Park

I'm up, I'm off, I'm on my way.
I'm in my tennis shoes,
I'm heading straight to Manito
to chase away the blues.

The back packs full of this and that
to make it an event,
I think I thought of everything,
just left out the tent.

Jalapeno quesadillas
wrapped up in a paper towel,
roasted peanuts and fig newtons
I can hear my stomach growl.

Big thermos of alpine cider,
use two packets, make it strong.
picnic blanket, book and glasses,
lifting spirits with a song.

Loaded with my pack and lawn chair,
I'm headed out for fun,
if it weren't so cumbersome
I could break out in a run.

My pond it is so beautiful,
with ducks swimming about.
Manito is mine today,
a whisper is a shout.

Open my chair and settle in,
with cider in my mug,
sitting here on such a day,
is like a big God hug.

An ever-young comes walking up
with helper at her side.
She loves the ducks and makes them fly,
her joy she can not hide.

This is not the Grand Canal
or the Pantheon in Rome,
but it's just as beautiful
and just think-we call it home!

Vinyl!

Oh what fun, what a delight, the studio was messy with fabric tonight!

I bought this bit of red vinyl at the fabric store a month ago, and have been waiting to finish the walkers to break out the sewing machine. To be truthful, the other bag was supposed to be the lining, but was way too big, and I just liked it too much to hide it inside a bag.

The only things recycled on the red bag are the button that I bought at a flea market in Paris, and the very thick black thread. It is a very old spool of Lyseth thread that I rescued from Grandmothers sewing box. Now the other bag is all up-cycled from upholstery samples, and a bit of our wonderful vinyl.

I might do a couple more bags before I start painting Giuseppe.

Happy spring friends, Jill

Paris Stroll

This was a very fun painting to paint!
So happy to be breaking in the new studio.

open today

Hello my artsie fartsie friends. The studio is open today, come on over with your supplies, and play! Give me a call. Jill

Too many ideas

I wonder if you ever have so many good ideas wandering about your head, that you just can't get to any of them. There are so many interesting, creative things to get involved in, where does a person start? Oh, if there was someone to actually pursue my ideas, we would have a much more colorful world!

About the poems

These poems are from my journal that I wrote on my journey this fall. I wrote an email home most every day for five weeks to 75 friends that couldn't go with me. Along with some of the emails, I wrote small poems to give more of a flavor of what I was going through. These are some of the poems that I sent home. They are in reverse order, so it is probably better to read them from the end to the beginning. Not sure how to fix that. Have a great ramble..
Ps, if you just want to read the poems, click on the right side under "trip poems" It will leave out all the other artsy stuff.

going home poem

Home poem

My bra's all worn out,
my sox have gone crusty
my great new black coat,
at the least, it is musty.

My eyebrows, their bushy,
my mustach is thick,
and my lone chin hair,
long as half a toothpick.

But oh the pictures,
that go through my head,
when tonight in Spokane,
my head hits the bed.

Of kayaks and alleys,
from Venice to France.
Of shutters of green,
the Jewish round dance.

Of my dear camel,
she carried me around,
of my daily falaffel,
of sweet organ sound.

Of tears that flowed freely,
at the wailing wall,
of climbing monk hill,
I treasure it all.

So Is it all worth it,
this wandering about?
The metros, the hostles,
my back about out?

My life's more alive,
I'll enjoy the small things,
I'll laugh when life laughs,
and sing when life sings.

Oh yes it's all worth it,
it's worth every dime.
Thank you for reading,
we had a great time!

Time is almost through

Friday

Friday, oh it's Friday,
My time is almost through.
Oh my dear, dear Paris,
Oh, how I will miss you.

I'll miss rocking on your metro,
and wandering around.
I'll miss searching out your alleys,
the wonders, they abound!

Oh my friends I've laughed with,
and the tears whem I goodbye.
I have no plans to come back soon,
but o-o-o-oh, someday, I'll try.

Ladies of the Tapestry

The Ladies of the Tapestry

The ladies of the tapestry,
they stitch and stitch all day.
One lady lost her finger,
In the tapestry to stay!

The ladies of the tapestry,
like pretzels they do bend.
They're on the floor all twisted up,
to reach, and stitch, and mend.

They go to school for five long years,
to learn about the trade,
of fixing cloth, feather,and shoe
in history, was made.

The ladies of the tapestry,
they work on things so old,
when they sat and stitched in silence,
oh the stories fabric told!

It told of men, many years past,
who stitched on these same threads.
Their eyes were sore, their bodies ached,
twelve hours before their beds.

These men of old, not well paid,
Tied to the loom all day,
had no idea the things they made,
hang on castle walls to stay.

Thank you dear ladies on the floor,
repairing thread by thread,
those tapestries from long ago,
to enjoy for years ahead.

Gallerie La Fayette

Gallerie La Fayette

The Gallerie La Fayette
with a stinky loo,
What, oh what, can a fine store do,
with a loo that stinks-floor two?

With Prada, Vitton, and Armani too,
beautiful clothes to sell,
but what to do with the stinky loo,
story we know too well.

It's just a slight reminder,
regular people wear those clothes.
They function just like you and me,
clothed in Prada, head to toes.

Paris metro

Metro

Travel the metro, and those kind of places,
for people with smiling eyes on their faces.

There are very few, I do not know why,
but you surely can find them, if you really try.

When we are all cramped up, in those metro cars,
why do they look down with their heart behind bars?

I give them a smile, and they remain blank,
eighty people all riding, to work, shop, or bank.

But here comes a lady, who smiles at me.
She's not given up, at age ninety three!

Goodbye my Jerusalem

Goodbye my Jerusalem,

Goodbye my Jerusalem,
the center of the world.
The sights the sounds the smells the tastes,
All that you've unfurled.

A place with heartbreak in each heart.
The troubles they abound.
"don't go here, watch your way there,
but oh, the jewels I've found.

In the heart of Noa,
and her neighbor too,
They follow God with all their heart,
in all the things they do.

In the heart of Jochen,
and his Marielle,
he tries with everything he has,
to bind the wounds that swell.

He meets with these, he meets with those,
on both sides of the wall.
He hopes for just a bit of peace,
no matter if it's small.

Goodbye my Jerusalem,
if only you could see,
Your God has sent his only Son,
sent him for you and me.

Goodbye my Jerusalem,
Goodbye my dear friend,
I will be praying peace for you,
until the very end.

Darios Birthday

Darios Birthday

Today was Darios birthday.
He has been gone these three years.
But we will have a party,
and my Robbie will shed no tears.

We have made the dips,
cheaned up the yard.
The maid really did,
all that was hard.

So, I'm ready for fun,
and much Italian chatter.
I won't understand much,
but what does it matter?

Regatta day

Regatta Day

My calves were sore,
then they're not,
because my arms
they went to pot.

Now my feet are
sore on top
I can not run
I sure can't hop.

There is a happy
noise I hear,
it is quite loud
it must be near.

I never thought
I'd meet the day
when accordions
call me out to play!

So put on socks
loosen my shoes
head out the door,
later I'll snooze!

My Burano

My Burano

Burano, Burano,
there's no better place.
I whiz past Murano,
to see your bright face.

Only an artist,
could paint as you do,
in red, pink and yellow,
and periwinkle blue.

Your colors, they call me,
from far, oh so far,
by vaporetto, and plane,
by train, and by car.

If I could paint just as simple,
as bright and as true,
I'd be a rich lady,
and come yearly to you!

Milan

Milan

Puffy eyes, unblown hair,
wear the same clothes everywhere.

Wake up to the noisy street,
bug bites on your sandaled feet.

It makes my ride on "twenty-five"
not such a chore. I'm more alive.

Wake up by four, be working by six.
Put on a smile; I've toast to fix.

Bus at three, with a sure knee
and in the door by quarter to four.

But when you've gone from there to here,
to there, to here, to there,

your more content when your at home,
and in your old pink chair.

YOu think about the ladies, on the bench in Levanto.
You wonder how much laundry they did fore they could go.

You think of all your hostel friends, from Paris to Milan,
and wonder if their traveling with all the same clothes on.

They're back at work in their own town,
a little more content,

Remembering all the things they saw,
and wonderful places they went.

The Fisherman of Monterosso

The Fisherman of Monterosso

At six he ventures out,
"ciaos" his 80 year old dear,
with his rod and bucket,
he's off to Monterosso pier.

Looks across to the village,
so wonderfully alone,
this is the time of morning,
Monterosso is his own.

(another very old guy comes slowly out to the pier to meet my fisherman)

Old Giuseppe shuffles out,
to be with his good friend.
They stand, the two, and talk of fish,
and of the nets they'll mend.

Giuseppe stops to talk to me,
with four good teeth inside.
He is the sanguine of the group,
his smile, he smiles wide.

He decides it is a poem I write,
so he tells a poema too.
He quotes it clear and loud and strong,
in Italian, it is true.

So full of big arm gestures,
with a glimmer in his eye,
He tells of old time Monterosso,
of many days gone by.

(Giuseppe slowly walks away)

Slowly, oh so slowly,
my fisherman warms up.
He realized I was staying,
so he better just give up.

So we sat and watched the wiggle,
at the end his fishing line.
He would tell me his word
And I would tell him mine.

We cheered as much as he would cheer,
with every fish he caught.
I took it's photo, and he would grin,
before squirming in the pot.

So there's my special morning,
before I catch the train.
My fisherman, I'll miss you,
but I'll be back again!

Day One Poem

day one poem

The day has come
the time is here.
I will be far
but have no fear.

I will be safe
oh it is true,
and I will write
each day to you.

If you could see
my silly grin,
from ear to ear
from eye to chin.

Oh you would want
to hop the plane,
the bus, the bike,
or hop the train.

Sit tight my friend.
enjoy the ride,
my joys, my sorrows,
I will not hide.

So if I die
fore I return,
don't bury me,
my body burn.

Upcycled blanket!

Oh what fun, oh what a delight, to crawl under a blanket I made tonight!

This is actually a new/old living room couch blanket I made from bits of old fabric. You may see a bit of a purse you have, or some of a tablecloth, or the back is just an old faded curtain from a garage sale. It is amazing what comfort there is in creating even the most basic of things!

life as a server

I had the privilege of serving an amazing group last night. It started when the lady called and asked for paper name tags for the men, because they had not seen each other for twenty years. Ok I found some. Then they started arriving. Her, a beautiful 90 year old lady, and trickling in were all these men from about 60 to around 80 years old. See, she used to be some kind of worker for the military. She had no kids, and her job was to help all the new doctors that were to serve there. This gathering was of all her "kids". I have to tell you, the influence one lady can make on a large amount of people over 25 years is incredible. She took all these "boys" on just like sons. They showed so much love to her it was beautiful. Oh, to have such a legacy.
If my little influence at the restaurant with my "kids" will be even one tenth as great as hers, I will have succeeded.

Pail of Sand

If I could only be an ostrich,

with a little pail of sand,

I'd hide out for a while,

from the problems in my hand.

I don't think their small answer,

such a bad one now and then,

it helps just for a moment,

but not the answer in the end.

I snuggle under cover,

in my little ostrich bed,

kind of like the white beach sand,

for my little ostrich head.

I will meet my list of problems,

in an hour, maybe two,

but sometimes, not the funtimes,

the sand's all I can do.

Jill Skeie

Purse collection

My favorite bags to make are up-cycled from used mens wool coats. They are even pre lined, and pre pocketed!

Here is an example of some of the purses I have made. Most are upcycled from used clothing or from ends of upholstery fabric. This is so fun for me to do!

Boats of Tuileries Garden

There was this wonderful fountain in the park to the right of the Louvre. A very smart man had a cart loaded with wonderful wooden boats for "rent". The kids would give him a euro for a stick to push a boat into the fountain and wait... for it to go to the other side. Then they would push it again... A very slow game that is for sure, but they seemed to think it was worth a euro. For me, it was a wonderful spot to take pictures. This is my first painting of the boats as they sat on the cart.

few more wall paintings

Here we have an older picture of Grandmother and Grandaddy on a cruise to Alaska.

This is one of my first acrylic tries. When I noticed her dress was mis painted, and the sholders are sooo far off, I added a lip ring, and nose stud, and called her Great Aunt Beatrice! How's that for ancestry?!

This was one of our chickens when we were "Little Farm on Greenbluff".

Art on the walls

So, you want to know what I paint? Well here are a few examples from my walls. :-)

First post

I needed a place to show my work on the internet, so the Studio on 25th was created. Actually the studio was already here, up and running, but now it is on line!
I doubt I will ever be a daily painter, or a daily poet, or anything daily, of corse other than a daily eatter. That I can count on.
So welcome to this little studio that will give me such good art therapy, and hopefully give you a little joy as well.