Dennis R. Hill
Contemporary Realism
Contemporary Realism is a straightforward realistic approach to artistic representation, while often using traditional techniques of painting.
Dennis R. Hill
The Call
I hear the call, but what awaits? Are the lands afar so different? My solitude here feeds melancholy, but will the faces of strangers be friendly?
The fields look beautiful to traverse, the mountains exciting to climb. The small villages and farmsteads welcome me with their innocence, but are these perceptions more dream than truth? Are they apparitions nestled among the fields?
The boulder by which I stand bids me to stay with its permanence and its warmth, but the grand scene that I behold calls with promise.
Permanence is safe, but change is life.
I hear the call, but what awaits? Are the lands afar so different? My solitude here feeds melancholy, but will the faces of strangers be friendly?
The fields look beautiful to traverse, the mountains exciting to climb. The small villages and farmsteads welcome me with their innocence, but are these perceptions more dream than truth? Are they apparitions nestled among the fields?
The boulder by which I stand bids me to stay with its permanence and its warmth, but the grand scene that I behold calls with promise.
Permanence is safe, but change is life.
Magnolia Spring – 24 x 36 oil on canvas
What says ‘spring’ more than a beautiful woman holding her cat and standing under a blossoming magnolia tree. One can almost feel the fresh aromatic breeze wafting through the boughs.
My soft cat purr for me and let me know that you’re content.
I’ll hold you close and keep you warm so quiet your lament.
The magnolia bears sweet smells to free our minds of colder days.
So, stay with me and purr for me. Let us share our graceful ways.
What says ‘spring’ more than a beautiful woman holding her cat and standing under a blossoming magnolia tree. One can almost feel the fresh aromatic breeze wafting through the boughs.
My soft cat purr for me and let me know that you’re content.
I’ll hold you close and keep you warm so quiet your lament.
The magnolia bears sweet smells to free our minds of colder days.
So, stay with me and purr for me. Let us share our graceful ways.
Painting Oneself - Self Portrait –22 x 28 oil on canvas
It might seem to be an egotistical endeavor for an artist to paint himself, however, it is a great way for an artist to practice with a patient subject. Furthermore, if he has to revisit the subject for details, it requires only another glance in the mirror. Rembrandt did several of himself throughout his life, and it is customary for most artists to execute at least one rendition of him or herself.
It might seem to be an egotistical endeavor for an artist to paint himself, however, it is a great way for an artist to practice with a patient subject. Furthermore, if he has to revisit the subject for details, it requires only another glance in the mirror. Rembrandt did several of himself throughout his life, and it is customary for most artists to execute at least one rendition of him or herself.
Russian Picnic – 24 x 36 oil on canvas
Throughout a tumultuous history, the Russian people have endured hardship and enjoyed life with a boldness that is to be admired. Here, two Russian women plan a picnic in a wintery scene that others might find imposing.
Throughout a tumultuous history, the Russian people have endured hardship and enjoyed life with a boldness that is to be admired. Here, two Russian women plan a picnic in a wintery scene that others might find imposing.
Hanna's Storm
It was a time of joy, aromas, and mind cleansing fresh air.
It was a time of the present: sunlight, so bright, so warm.
It was a time to dream of romance and of fulfilling desire,
but all harshly became turmoil with the approach of a storm.
It rumbled a threat and flashed angry its soul,
It smothered the land and swallowed the sky.
Hanna saw her home, distant on top of the hill,
and cried in sorrow, oh why now, why now, oh why!
It was a time of joy, aromas, and mind cleansing fresh air.
It was a time of the present: sunlight, so bright, so warm.
It was a time to dream of romance and of fulfilling desire,
but all harshly became turmoil with the approach of a storm.
It rumbled a threat and flashed angry its soul,
It smothered the land and swallowed the sky.
Hanna saw her home, distant on top of the hill,
and cried in sorrow, oh why now, why now, oh why!
Marsh Rock Ritual – 24 x 12 oil on canvas
I’ve arrived, oh magical marsh and shimmering moon.
Arouse my spirit, embrace my soul, seduce me with your secret cure.
Your deep secrets, hidden from me, have made me long throughout the year.
It is time to speak, inspire my thoughts, bathe my flesh and make me pure.
I’ve arrived, oh magical marsh and shimmering moon.
Arouse my spirit, embrace my soul, seduce me with your secret cure.
Your deep secrets, hidden from me, have made me long throughout the year.
It is time to speak, inspire my thoughts, bathe my flesh and make me pure.
Orange Marmalade – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
Orange marmalade and Mediterranean blue,
With the spring breeze in our hair, I pull closer to you.
Your waist in my arm, your warm breasts on my heart.
You enrich my dream mind with your womanly art.
It’s only a dream, but some dreams fill a soul.
They caress our sad thoughts so we’re loving and whole.
“I love you,” you say, and I love you, I do.
We love only in dreams. Dreams by me and by you.
Orange marmalade and sailboats on the sea.
White birds in the air sing, “you’re young and you’re free.”
You ask for some wine and I move at the cue.
On our Grecian white porch, we’ll make love with a view.
It’s only a dream, but some dreams fill a life.
They caress our sad thoughts and give us delight.
“I love you,” you say, and I love you, I do.
We love only in dreams. Dreams by me and by you.
Orange marmalade and Mediterranean blue,
With the spring breeze in our hair, I pull closer to you.
Your waist in my arm, your warm breasts on my heart.
You enrich my dream mind with your womanly art.
It’s only a dream, but some dreams fill a soul.
They caress our sad thoughts so we’re loving and whole.
“I love you,” you say, and I love you, I do.
We love only in dreams. Dreams by me and by you.
Orange marmalade and sailboats on the sea.
White birds in the air sing, “you’re young and you’re free.”
You ask for some wine and I move at the cue.
On our Grecian white porch, we’ll make love with a view.
It’s only a dream, but some dreams fill a life.
They caress our sad thoughts and give us delight.
“I love you,” you say, and I love you, I do.
We love only in dreams. Dreams by me and by you.
The Sands of Time – 48 x 24 oil on canvas
Desperation man. Pause for a while. I wonder where you go.
With your briefcase in your shaking hand, are you ready for the show?
Step forward, greet the Sands of Time as they mound before your feet.
Melancholy won’t help you win the day, hesitation ensures defeat.
Dry your sweaty hands and smile. Prepare your best handshake.
Empty your shoes of gritty sand before the silence breaks.
Your collar tightens in the sun, the dunes obstruct your vision.
Will today’s work bring you rare success, or laughter of derision?
Later, under an evening sky, we’ll talk about our past.
We’ll nurture ourselves on memories, past joys now unsurpassed.
Desperation man. Pause for a while. I wonder where you go.
With your briefcase in your shaking hand, are you ready for the show?
Step forward, greet the Sands of Time as they mound before your feet.
Melancholy won’t help you win the day, hesitation ensures defeat.
Dry your sweaty hands and smile. Prepare your best handshake.
Empty your shoes of gritty sand before the silence breaks.
Your collar tightens in the sun, the dunes obstruct your vision.
Will today’s work bring you rare success, or laughter of derision?
Later, under an evening sky, we’ll talk about our past.
We’ll nurture ourselves on memories, past joys now unsurpassed.
Evening Candle –18 x 24 oil on canvas
Evening candle hold my gaze and help me bide the autumn months.
The man I love is traveling far and won’t return ere winter hours.
Lonely twilights evoke but dreams and my days of toil are long and joyless.
Draw out my deepest thoughts tonight, surrender your great powers.
Evening candle hold my gaze and help me bide the autumn months.
The man I love is traveling far and won’t return ere winter hours.
Lonely twilights evoke but dreams and my days of toil are long and joyless.
Draw out my deepest thoughts tonight, surrender your great powers.
The Stone Pullers – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
Why are these people pulling a heavy stone through the hot desert? Does it have value to them? Are the ravens scolding them for their theft?
Or are they pulling the heavy stone as a form of punishment? Is it a product of a mutual transgression on their part, and are the ravens cawing scorn at them as they labor?
Why are these people pulling a heavy stone through the hot desert? Does it have value to them? Are the ravens scolding them for their theft?
Or are they pulling the heavy stone as a form of punishment? Is it a product of a mutual transgression on their part, and are the ravens cawing scorn at them as they labor?
The Mockingbird – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
Since Man has scythed deep golden waves
and laid within wind rustled grain,
beauty has touched both eye and mind
and given life to wondrous plain.
Romantic songs diverse and true
have flown above fields tossed and stirred,
but no verse has softly kissed the air
quite like that of the mockingbird.
Young eyes greet them in their flight.
They spin, they stall, they speak a word!
Nothing can thrill a child more
than antics of the mockingbird.
It mimics creatures in its realm,
perfecting other voices heard.
So, when you think you hear a jay,
it just might be a mockingbird.
Since Man has scythed deep golden waves
and laid within wind rustled grain,
beauty has touched both eye and mind
and given life to wondrous plain.
Romantic songs diverse and true
have flown above fields tossed and stirred,
but no verse has softly kissed the air
quite like that of the mockingbird.
Young eyes greet them in their flight.
They spin, they stall, they speak a word!
Nothing can thrill a child more
than antics of the mockingbird.
It mimics creatures in its realm,
perfecting other voices heard.
So, when you think you hear a jay,
it just might be a mockingbird.
Old Heart - 18 x 24 oil on canvas
My old heart cries for youth,
for young romance and an eternal future.
My old heart cries for you
with a growing ache and no hope for cure.
I fatigue with loneliness
and bittersweet memories.
I confound myself with foolish
old heart idiosyncrasies.
You are gone. I am lost.
There’s no more I can do.
My old heart beats on
reluctantly without you.
My old heart cries for youth,
for young romance and an eternal future.
My old heart cries for you
with a growing ache and no hope for cure.
I fatigue with loneliness
and bittersweet memories.
I confound myself with foolish
old heart idiosyncrasies.
You are gone. I am lost.
There’s no more I can do.
My old heart beats on
reluctantly without you.
Helga and the White Dove – 36 x 48 oil on canvas
Helga summons the white dove through subtle evening whispers. It coos a quiet song of melancholic memories of a summer that has passed. Nevertheless, romance fluently swirls autumn’s hues to calm the world and to compose a winter lullaby to ease nature
into a chilly sleep of frosty beauty and promise of new life. Helga, soothe my fears and remind me that the imminent winter’s chilly white is the beginning of spring.
Helga summons the white dove through subtle evening whispers. It coos a quiet song of melancholic memories of a summer that has passed. Nevertheless, romance fluently swirls autumn’s hues to calm the world and to compose a winter lullaby to ease nature
into a chilly sleep of frosty beauty and promise of new life. Helga, soothe my fears and remind me that the imminent winter’s chilly white is the beginning of spring.
Besame Mucho– 30 x 40 oil on canvas
I spin empty with desire and pain, please hold me to your loving chest.
Please feed my hungry soul tonight, allow my cravings needed rest.
Extinguish the yearnings of my heart with your strength and fortitude,
and hush the scream wrestling in my blood until it’s been subdued.
Seize my passion as it blooms and learn my heart’s soft rhythmic song,
and drink my silent cries of joy so I may know you all night long.
I spin empty with desire and pain, please hold me to your loving chest.
Please feed my hungry soul tonight, allow my cravings needed rest.
Extinguish the yearnings of my heart with your strength and fortitude,
and hush the scream wrestling in my blood until it’s been subdued.
Seize my passion as it blooms and learn my heart’s soft rhythmic song,
and drink my silent cries of joy so I may know you all night long.
If Any – 18 x 24 acrylic on canvas
I look at the stars in the deep black sky,
sensing that one is mine.
Among the billions, light years away,
there are pulses of my kind.
I travel a course vaguely charted in me
each time I see the skies
and wonder of where I belong
as I raise my eyes.
A giant mass of churning flames
hurls through a mystic space
and as I’ve lived upon this world,
that star (my sun), has lost its place.
I hear the gravel at my feet.
I think of people that I meet.
I think of you and oh how sweet
my lost world seems to me.
Crowds of people pass near by
and you are with them:
one of many.
But I alone, search far away,
I’m little of Earth,
if any.
I look at the stars in the deep black sky,
sensing that one is mine.
Among the billions, light years away,
there are pulses of my kind.
I travel a course vaguely charted in me
each time I see the skies
and wonder of where I belong
as I raise my eyes.
A giant mass of churning flames
hurls through a mystic space
and as I’ve lived upon this world,
that star (my sun), has lost its place.
I hear the gravel at my feet.
I think of people that I meet.
I think of you and oh how sweet
my lost world seems to me.
Crowds of people pass near by
and you are with them:
one of many.
But I alone, search far away,
I’m little of Earth,
if any.
Nightmare Approaches
Nightmare approaches.
First by stealth through clear cold blue.
Then panic-powered, the screams ensue.
Who deserves life? Who survives?
The fight begins with pain and dread.
The battle ends with the loser dead.
When silence falls, when water’s red,
when lungs have burst, when hearts have bled,
deny the fear and cold bloodshed,
to validate the lives you’ve led.
Nightmare approaches.
First by stealth through clear cold blue.
Then panic-powered, the screams ensue.
Who deserves life? Who survives?
The fight begins with pain and dread.
The battle ends with the loser dead.
When silence falls, when water’s red,
when lungs have burst, when hearts have bled,
deny the fear and cold bloodshed,
to validate the lives you’ve led.
White Feather – 16 x 20 oil on canvas
From out of the blue, you fall into hand,
a message of scorn and self-righteous demand.
Oblivious to need and men’s states of affair,
your delivering birds distribute nightmare.
They fly down the street with a bustling aim
to hand out their quills and thus unload their shame.
And after delivering each stabbing decree,
they find a sweet shop for crumpets and tea.
From out of the blue, you fall into hand,
a message of scorn and self-righteous demand.
Oblivious to need and men’s states of affair,
your delivering birds distribute nightmare.
They fly down the street with a bustling aim
to hand out their quills and thus unload their shame.
And after delivering each stabbing decree,
they find a sweet shop for crumpets and tea.
Pinkie – 24 x 48 oil on canvas
Pinkie is on her tiptoes and acting so demure.
She knows all eyes adore her; shyness is her allure.
She blushes pink and rosy, but glances to the side
to ensure her audience is amply satisfied.
Should other girls despise her for her little show?
Should proud guys criticize her as if they didn’t know
that she’s the dream construction of everyone’s desires?
That she’s pink fragile kindling of ardent social fires.
Pinkie is on her tiptoes and acting so demure.
She knows all eyes adore her; shyness is her allure.
She blushes pink and rosy, but glances to the side
to ensure her audience is amply satisfied.
Should other girls despise her for her little show?
Should proud guys criticize her as if they didn’t know
that she’s the dream construction of everyone’s desires?
That she’s pink fragile kindling of ardent social fires.
Quiet Hours
Quiet hours of the present are being
dissolved by warm swirls of the past.
The smiles and words of you are remembered
and the softness of you is in my blood.
Your spring aromas, remembered.
Spring smiles, spring tears, spring streams of hair
owned by the breezes.
Grasses in fields, fields grow woods.
Winds and wonders entwining ourselves in mysteries.
Mysteries ethereal and acknowledged in dreams,
in hours dissolved,
quietly fondled by breaths characterized by time.
Quiet hours of the present are being
dissolved by warm swirls of the past.
The smiles and words of you are remembered
and the softness of you is in my blood.
Your spring aromas, remembered.
Spring smiles, spring tears, spring streams of hair
owned by the breezes.
Grasses in fields, fields grow woods.
Winds and wonders entwining ourselves in mysteries.
Mysteries ethereal and acknowledged in dreams,
in hours dissolved,
quietly fondled by breaths characterized by time.
This painting is entitled: 'The mass of men...', which might seem strange considering there is only one man in it. The title is the beginning of a comment by Henry David Thoreau: "The mass of men lead[s] lives of quiet desperation."
The mass of men… 24 x 36 oil on canvas
While the darkness creeps up behind me I, alone and lonely, search for a few words, a small piece of salvation, that might be hidden in my mailbox. Empty again. Has my road been forgotten? My house thought to be vacant?
The mass of men… 24 x 36 oil on canvas
While the darkness creeps up behind me I, alone and lonely, search for a few words, a small piece of salvation, that might be hidden in my mailbox. Empty again. Has my road been forgotten? My house thought to be vacant?
The Goldfinch
Why do you perch on my crooked branch?
Oh, goldfinch with a thistle seed.
I wonder why you grace my sight
with colors of a suitor’s need.
Do you offer me a gift,
or do you gather for a nest?
I’ll hold you here while you will stay,
glad to give you fleeting rest.
Why do you perch on my crooked branch?
Oh, goldfinch with a thistle seed.
I wonder why you grace my sight
with colors of a suitor’s need.
Do you offer me a gift,
or do you gather for a nest?
I’ll hold you here while you will stay,
glad to give you fleeting rest.
Elena and the Hummingbird – 40 x 30 oil on canvas
After visiting the coast of California, I painted Elena in this beautiful setting.
The hummingbird owns the sky, the sea coast, and the many flowers nourished by the sun. She flies speedily on her constant quest for nectar to power her small body. Occasionally, during her frantic toil, she stops to fearlessly study the strange antics of guests in her domain. They might be a hiker with his explorer’s hat fixed upon his head, a child running through nature’s matrixes, or a beautiful woman in repose enjoying the ocean breeze. Whomever it might be that she graces with her visit, they are sure to be surprised and delighted by the honor.
After visiting the coast of California, I painted Elena in this beautiful setting.
The hummingbird owns the sky, the sea coast, and the many flowers nourished by the sun. She flies speedily on her constant quest for nectar to power her small body. Occasionally, during her frantic toil, she stops to fearlessly study the strange antics of guests in her domain. They might be a hiker with his explorer’s hat fixed upon his head, a child running through nature’s matrixes, or a beautiful woman in repose enjoying the ocean breeze. Whomever it might be that she graces with her visit, they are sure to be surprised and delighted by the honor.
Brandi – 24 x 30 oil on canvas
Yellow flame, red flames, and streams of crimson
exploding in the warm colors that ignite romance.
The sky silently screams excitement
and the night is young.
Yellow flame, red flames, and streams of crimson
exploding in the warm colors that ignite romance.
The sky silently screams excitement
and the night is young.
Red Tree – 20 x 16 oil on canvas
The red tree knows fire everyday
and eagerly grows towards the flames.
The heat is what gives it nourishment.
The glory: its eternal aim.
The red tree knows fire everyday
and eagerly grows towards the flames.
The heat is what gives it nourishment.
The glory: its eternal aim.
Sycamore Sunset – 11 x 14 oil on canvas
Burn white in the sunset light and reach for the stars tonight.
Your crooked branches reach to-and-fro, not knowing which is their way to go,
but in the end your skyward urges weave a sculpture sublime and a tree emerges.
Bone-white, some say you might appear like a skeleton when winter’s near,
but when you are clothed in the leaves of spring,
you are proof secure that great artists can sing.
Burn white in the sunset light and reach for the stars tonight.
Your crooked branches reach to-and-fro, not knowing which is their way to go,
but in the end your skyward urges weave a sculpture sublime and a tree emerges.
Bone-white, some say you might appear like a skeleton when winter’s near,
but when you are clothed in the leaves of spring,
you are proof secure that great artists can sing.
Sycamore Sky – 11 x 14 oil on canvas
Scratch your white across the sky and boldly challenge the day’s moon eye.
Bend your branches back-and-forth: west to east, and south to north,
but never lose the blinding hue that brands each favored avenue.
Your nakedness is shame to some, but nature’s way is not to shun,
and when you don your dress of leaves, you’ll be all any tree achieves.
Scratch your white across the sky and boldly challenge the day’s moon eye.
Bend your branches back-and-forth: west to east, and south to north,
but never lose the blinding hue that brands each favored avenue.
Your nakedness is shame to some, but nature’s way is not to shun,
and when you don your dress of leaves, you’ll be all any tree achieves.
Fiery Feather – 24 x 48 oil on canvas
Fiery Feather free of the pheasant.
Float, float, float,
forever above the frosty fall fields.
Fiery Feather, your fantastic fabric
facilitates the fastidious famous
in their feign as the favored few.
Fiery Feather, fabled for your fairness,
fluffy fabric, and for
facilitating fancy fashion fanfares,
find your way into a female’s fan.
Fiery Feather free of the pheasant.
Float, float, float,
forever above the frosty fall fields.
Fiery Feather, your fantastic fabric
facilitates the fastidious famous
in their feign as the favored few.
Fiery Feather, fabled for your fairness,
fluffy fabric, and for
facilitating fancy fashion fanfares,
find your way into a female’s fan.
The Yellow Rose – 22 x 28 oil on canvas
The wind rustles the trees to a roar,
but the garden only sleeps deeper with the noise.
The mud dauber wasp lands lightly to rest
and to smell the yellow rose in its perfect poise.
Slowly the petals of the bud
unwrap the swaddled prize,
and the wasp gives witness to the wondrous way
that a rose can mesmerize.
The wind rustles the trees to a roar,
but the garden only sleeps deeper with the noise.
The mud dauber wasp lands lightly to rest
and to smell the yellow rose in its perfect poise.
Slowly the petals of the bud
unwrap the swaddled prize,
and the wasp gives witness to the wondrous way
that a rose can mesmerize.
Dark Harbinger – 16 x 20 oil on canvas
What messanger wanders through the dark?
What sudden knock will fall upon door?
What fate of sorrow, joy, or death
will be reborn from ancient lore?
Who treads upon the mossy earth
with staff of vine and robed obscure?
What mystery wakes men at night
mumbling prayers and insecure?
He’s out there now, the harbinger
of news to make the wicked sweat,
and tales to frighten common folk
until they’re grieving with regret.
What messanger wanders through the dark?
What sudden knock will fall upon door?
What fate of sorrow, joy, or death
will be reborn from ancient lore?
Who treads upon the mossy earth
with staff of vine and robed obscure?
What mystery wakes men at night
mumbling prayers and insecure?
He’s out there now, the harbinger
of news to make the wicked sweat,
and tales to frighten common folk
until they’re grieving with regret.
Spearhead – 40 x 30 acrylic on board (mixed media)
Flint chipped to perfection,
sinewed to hickory.
Strong launch towards the target.
A dance of victory.
Man attracts a woman.
Love creates embrace.
Union creates a child
to continue the fearful race.
Flint chipped to perfection,
sinewed to hickory.
Strong launch towards the target.
A dance of victory.
Man attracts a woman.
Love creates embrace.
Union creates a child
to continue the fearful race.
Through the Fence – 16 x 20 oil on canvas
You’ve found privacy and “independence” behind your wooden fence.
You manage a perfect garden and a stoic commonsense,
but when hidden from the world and its scary social stress
your solitude is but boredom and painful loneliness.
When your pond has dried in the sun and your flowers all have withered,
peek outside your aging fence from where sad hours have slithered.
Unlock your gate and open wide its frame of creaky hinges
and find that you just might enjoy humanity’s wild fringes.
You’ve found privacy and “independence” behind your wooden fence.
You manage a perfect garden and a stoic commonsense,
but when hidden from the world and its scary social stress
your solitude is but boredom and painful loneliness.
When your pond has dried in the sun and your flowers all have withered,
peek outside your aging fence from where sad hours have slithered.
Unlock your gate and open wide its frame of creaky hinges
and find that you just might enjoy humanity’s wild fringes.
What’d You Say? – 16x20 oil on canvas
Come over here!
What’d you say?
No one talks to me that way!
Don’t smirk at me.
You’d best realize.
You can’t escape these blue eyes!
Come over here!
What’d you say?
No one talks to me that way!
Don’t smirk at me.
You’d best realize.
You can’t escape these blue eyes!
Sky Song – 24 x 12 oil on canvas
I look to the horizon and I see
nature singing for my eyes.
She sings a song that makes me gasp with ecstasy
and to realize with each day that nature is amazing.
I look to the horizon and I see
nature singing for my eyes.
She sings a song that makes me gasp with ecstasy
and to realize with each day that nature is amazing.
Floating Cow Conch - 12 x 16 oil on canvas
I have often noted that common pebbles and sea shells have as much esthetic value as exotic gem stones. I have viewed the Hope Diamond and other such stones in museums. They are fascinating, but their beauty doesn’t compare to nature’s other works of art.
I have often noted that common pebbles and sea shells have as much esthetic value as exotic gem stones. I have viewed the Hope Diamond and other such stones in museums. They are fascinating, but their beauty doesn’t compare to nature’s other works of art.
Cecropia Moth – 8 x 10
What’s this?
A fleeting piece of art?
An amazing piece of nature?
Or are you someone’s dream that has escaped?
Fly into my mind and I will dance away with you.
What’s this?
A fleeting piece of art?
An amazing piece of nature?
Or are you someone’s dream that has escaped?
Fly into my mind and I will dance away with you.
English Cocker Spaniel in the Field – 16 x 20 oil on canvas
Black and sleek with energy to spare.
A grassy field and a cloud-brushed sky.
A dog’s heart beats to please his master,
And to never pause or to wonder why.
Black and sleek with energy to spare.
A grassy field and a cloud-brushed sky.
A dog’s heart beats to please his master,
And to never pause or to wonder why.
Candle
Mesmerizing.
It is time to sleep and to blow you away,
But I stare and stare,
until the outside world is gone.
Release me. I am tired.
Release me…
Mesmerizing.
It is time to sleep and to blow you away,
But I stare and stare,
until the outside world is gone.
Release me. I am tired.
Release me…
Dream Road – 16 x 20 oil on canvas
Burst in silence in the night
and awe my mind with your grand sight.
Light my cottage where I’ll sleep
and brush the stars with your broad sweep.
But most of all, for all you do,
illuminate Dream Road, too.
Fore on this road she came to me
and on this road, we’ll always be.
Burst in silence in the night
and awe my mind with your grand sight.
Light my cottage where I’ll sleep
and brush the stars with your broad sweep.
But most of all, for all you do,
illuminate Dream Road, too.
Fore on this road she came to me
and on this road, we’ll always be.
Eternal Moon – 18 x 24 oil on canvas (mixed media)
I can almost hear the crickets chirp in the cool night air as the eternal moon watches over a solitary rural house. Generations have surely lived in that sheltering dwelling, and in time, passed away. Month after month, century after century, the moon keeps its clock-work vigilance and inspires romance and dreams in all who gaze upon it.
I can almost hear the crickets chirp in the cool night air as the eternal moon watches over a solitary rural house. Generations have surely lived in that sheltering dwelling, and in time, passed away. Month after month, century after century, the moon keeps its clock-work vigilance and inspires romance and dreams in all who gaze upon it.
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Study of Hands
We can observe, hear, smell, and taste the environment in which we live, just as most animals can, but only with our very flexible hands can we feel and manipulate our world. This, along with our intellect, is what largely divides us from our fellow creatures, and has allowed us to advance ourselves beyond their mode of existence. It would be so very difficult to manipulate our food and general environment with blunt paws and mouths.
Reaching Man’s Hand – 16” round- oil on canvas
The human hand can reach into areas, rotate at the wrist, grasp, and otherwise explore in an infinite way.
Feminine Hand Awaiting a Kiss – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
This feminine hand seems to be awaiting a kiss, one that, sadly, will never come. The time of chivalry has long been extinguished by a few who were sour to its civility.
Hand with Ant – 18 x 24 oil on canvas
We are huge compared to an ant and most other creatures, yet we sometimes let them repulse and even terrorize us. It is ironic, since most of the time they are not even aware of our existence.
Man’s Hand Gripping a Hammer – 18 x 24 oil on canvas
Few images represent industry more than this man’s hand holding a hammer. Through such labor, lives were sustained, and houses and our country were built.
Woman’s Hands on Her Feet– 18 x 24 oil on canvas
These dexterous woman’s hands can perform a variety of essential and artistic tasks that through history have enhanced human culture and wellbeing.
Man’s Hand Pulling a Rope – 18 x 24 oil on canvas
Through the ages, men have used rope for boats, nets, farming, and nearly every type of industrial activity. Its use is still common and important.
Man’s Hand with Blood Droplet – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
This man’s palm gives forth a droplet of life’s miracle fluid, which often shocks people upon witnessing its loss.
Baby’s Hand and Nipple – 10 x 8 oil on canvas
This baby holds his mother’s source of nourishment and immunity to disease. A major part of many wondrous aspects of motherhood. May technology never change it.
We can observe, hear, smell, and taste the environment in which we live, just as most animals can, but only with our very flexible hands can we feel and manipulate our world. This, along with our intellect, is what largely divides us from our fellow creatures, and has allowed us to advance ourselves beyond their mode of existence. It would be so very difficult to manipulate our food and general environment with blunt paws and mouths.
Reaching Man’s Hand – 16” round- oil on canvas
The human hand can reach into areas, rotate at the wrist, grasp, and otherwise explore in an infinite way.
Feminine Hand Awaiting a Kiss – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
This feminine hand seems to be awaiting a kiss, one that, sadly, will never come. The time of chivalry has long been extinguished by a few who were sour to its civility.
Hand with Ant – 18 x 24 oil on canvas
We are huge compared to an ant and most other creatures, yet we sometimes let them repulse and even terrorize us. It is ironic, since most of the time they are not even aware of our existence.
Man’s Hand Gripping a Hammer – 18 x 24 oil on canvas
Few images represent industry more than this man’s hand holding a hammer. Through such labor, lives were sustained, and houses and our country were built.
Woman’s Hands on Her Feet– 18 x 24 oil on canvas
These dexterous woman’s hands can perform a variety of essential and artistic tasks that through history have enhanced human culture and wellbeing.
Man’s Hand Pulling a Rope – 18 x 24 oil on canvas
Through the ages, men have used rope for boats, nets, farming, and nearly every type of industrial activity. Its use is still common and important.
Man’s Hand with Blood Droplet – 24 x 18 oil on canvas
This man’s palm gives forth a droplet of life’s miracle fluid, which often shocks people upon witnessing its loss.
Baby’s Hand and Nipple – 10 x 8 oil on canvas
This baby holds his mother’s source of nourishment and immunity to disease. A major part of many wondrous aspects of motherhood. May technology never change it.
Fat Mouse – 40 x 30 oil on canvas
Oh, Fat Mouse, must you eat my grain?
Must my corn supply be your sole domain?
My lazy cat is too pleasantly fed
on sweet morsels of fresh pumpkin bread.
He tends to sleep while you munch and munch
and has no appetite for a mousy lunch.
Go away or I will devise a trap
that will catch you tight with a horrible snap.
Oh, Fat Mouse, must you eat my grain?
Must my corn supply be your sole domain?
My lazy cat is too pleasantly fed
on sweet morsels of fresh pumpkin bread.
He tends to sleep while you munch and munch
and has no appetite for a mousy lunch.
Go away or I will devise a trap
that will catch you tight with a horrible snap.
Freedom – 30 x 40 oil on canvas
Freedom spins a woman’s mind.
What next in life is there to find?
The breeze, the waves, a time of youth,
an understanding of love’s truth.
Her heart sings warm, she feels the sun.
Such joy should be for everyone.
Freedom spins a woman’s mind.
What next in life is there to find?
The breeze, the waves, a time of youth,
an understanding of love’s truth.
Her heart sings warm, she feels the sun.
Such joy should be for everyone.
Midnight Buck – 36 x 24
Cool as the winter air, this confident buck spies the last leaf of the year as if contemplating the passing of time.
Cool as the winter air, this confident buck spies the last leaf of the year as if contemplating the passing of time.
Morning Sun
Sun, sky, earth, and water. The four basic components of our world. They stood for billions of years before human consciousness beheld them, and surely will remain after we have lived our fleeting lives.
Sun, sky, earth, and water. The four basic components of our world. They stood for billions of years before human consciousness beheld them, and surely will remain after we have lived our fleeting lives.
Mountain Sky – 24 x 12 oil on canvas
Silent harbinger, we finally meet.
Make your message a good one.
Mountain sky, your cool view fills me with awe
and tells me that despite hardship and despair,
dreams will continue and beauty will survive.
Silent harbinger, we finally meet.
Make your message a good one.
Mountain sky, your cool view fills me with awe
and tells me that despite hardship and despair,
dreams will continue and beauty will survive.
Autumn Pheasant – 12 x 24 oil on canvas
Glide by my window, under the moon and over the trees.
So majestic! So proud.
Show your ring and colors. She will see you and come.
But for me, your gift is that you color the sky.
Glide by my window, under the moon and over the trees.
So majestic! So proud.
Show your ring and colors. She will see you and come.
But for me, your gift is that you color the sky.
Sea Fish – 40 x 30 oil on canvas
Suspended, as if in space.
Broad, yet thin with but a tiny fin.
Stare at her and she will humor you,
but move too close and she’ll shoot away.
Hold very still so she will stay!
Suspended, as if in space.
Broad, yet thin with but a tiny fin.
Stare at her and she will humor you,
but move too close and she’ll shoot away.
Hold very still so she will stay!
Happy Harper – 16 x 20 oil on canvas
Undoubtable love comes from the heart of a dog.
Her smile is borne from the depths of her heart.
The truest of love comes from a man for his dog,
and he remembers that smile each time they’re apart.
Undoubtable love comes from the heart of a dog.
Her smile is borne from the depths of her heart.
The truest of love comes from a man for his dog,
and he remembers that smile each time they’re apart.