Posts Tagged ‘Cathedral’

Cards!

Friday, November 20th, 2020

Because there won’t be any in-person holiday bazaar for my cards this year, my website is updated (thank you Devin!) to do everything online. Please check it out, along with some new cards. I hope you like it. (Below, some discount codes.)

If you decide to order as many as 5 or 10, you may use the code 5FOR20 or 10FOR40 for a discount. If you are nearby and prefer a safely socially-distant pickup, use code PICKUP for no shipping, and contact me to make arrangements. 

Monthly Paintings: Cathedral Calendar 2020

Sunday, December 1st, 2019

These are the paintings featured, one for each month, in my Washington National Cathedral calendar for 2020. (Click twice to enlarge.)

Melissa

Donna

A Calendar for 2020: Cathedral

Sunday, November 17th, 2019

Here is my new calendar for 2020, each month featuring one of a series of paintings at Washington National Cathedral and its gardens. The calendar is 8-1/2″ x 11″ and printed on sturdy satin stock, substantial enough that the images can be saved as prints. (Soon I will post the paintings for each month, so that you can see them all, unless you prefer to be surprised.)

A single calendar is $23; a set of two is $42; plus shipping. Shipping is Priority Mail, domestic US. If you are in my area, you can obtain a calendar from me directly without shipping cost—just let me know.

I’m sorry that international shipping costs make the calendars too expensive to ship overseas.

They will also be available at the Washington Waldorf School Holiday Bazaar on November 23rd, along with note cards featuring the Cathedral paintings and my other cards as well.

Single calendar:




Set of 2 calendars:




Artists of Woodley Park

Thursday, October 17th, 2019

Two of the paintings in my Washington National Cathedral series will be on exhibit in the Artists of Woodley Park show opening October 17, 2019. I’m looking forward to seeing work of the more than 20 Woodley Park artists included, and I hope some of you might make your way there this fall.

Stanford in Washington Gallery
2655 Connecticut Avenue NW

Washington, DC 20008

Notre Dame d’Evreux, with Robot

Thursday, September 25th, 2014

Yes, that is indeed a robot beside Nôtre Dame d’Evreux and the old Gallo-Roman wall: it’s one of several imaginatively created from found and recycled materials and installed in the park. Juxtaposition of the old and the new is pretty typical of life here, but it doesn’t usually include robots.

9.25NotreDameEvreux2

CakeSun

Christy

 

Winter Solstice

Thursday, December 22nd, 2011

On this shortest day and longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, I post a light-in-darkness painting (one of a series currently in progress based on Washington National Cathedral) and a poem by Patrick Kavanaugh. In celebration of the solstice, look for shooting stars tonight and tomorrow in the constellation Ursa Minor.

Last year, the solstice fell, for the first time since 1638, on the day of a lunar eclipse. For a sketch in honor of this event, please see Winter Solstice/Lunar Eclipse.

StainedGlassLight

A Star

Beauty was that
Far vanished flame,
Call it a star
Wanting better name.

And gaze and gaze
Vaguely until
Nothing is left
Save a grey ghost-hill.

Here wait I
On the world’s rim
Stretching out hands
To Seraphim.

—Patrick Kavanaugh

Fish

Tuesday, August 10th, 2010

The pond in the Bishop’s Garden, from a series of paintings at Washington National Cathedral. And a poem.

FishPond550AA
The Name of a Fish
.
If winter is a house then summer is a window
in the bedroom of that house. Sorrow is a river
behind the house and happiness is the name

of a fish who swims downstream. The unborn child
who plays in the fragrant garden is named Mavis:
her red hair is made of future and her sleek feet

are wet with dreams. The cat who naps
in the bedroom has his paws in the sun of summer
and his tail in the moonlight of change. You and I

spend years walking up and down the dusty stairs
of the house. Sometimes we stand in the bedroom
and the cat walks towards us like a message.

Sometimes we pick dandelions from the garden
and watch the white heads blow open
in our hands. We are learning to fish in the river

of sorrow; we are undressing for a swim.

— Faith Shearin