I've also been painting ... one is a commissioned piece that I can't show yet but I do have several I can show off. I haven't taken any classes lately since I'm saving up for a workshop in November but I'm still able to go to Jon McNaughton's gallery and get advice when I need it.
These paintings are all acrylic on masonite, 11"x14" and unframed.
This first painting is called "Bridge of Light" from the February 2011 class:
This is "Wisteria Memories" from the March 2011 class:
This next one is an abstract, titled "Woods" that I painted in March 2011. I'm not a big abstract fan although there are some I do like and this one wouldn't leave me alone until I'd painted it.
The next two are ones I painted using a book by Pat Crum, "Painting by Design" but done in my own style.
This one is called "Spring in Europe":
And this one is called "Red Tree by the River":
I have a few more paintings in the works but not sure when I'll be able to finish them as I need to get the next issue of Crochet Uncut out.
In other news, my dog, Mr. Darcy, is a real hoot sometimes. He's learned the difference between "outside" and "bed" (and of course what "treat" is) so we have to spell them out. I dread the day he learns to spell!
Last night, he was lying at the foot of my bed when he jumped up and stood up with his paws on my lap desk and looked meaningfully at me.
"What is it Darcy?" I asked. He scratched on the desk with his left paw. "Outside?" Another scratch on the desk. "Do you want to go outside?" Another scratch. "No? Do you want to go to bed?" With this, Darcy's head perked up, he jumped off the bed and ran in circles. So, off to the living room we went where he ran into his crate and waited for his bedtime treat (bananas wrapped in chicken).
My sister has also taught him to ask for "more" when he's getting a belly rub. I'm hoping to get a video of him asking for more soon and I'll post it when I do. We got the idea from sister Jenny when she taught our youngest nephew to ask for more in sign language before he learned how to talk.
