The Choices We Face

A crossroads... what a nice, simple concept. You're on a journey along a road and get to a place where you need to choose whether you this way or that way, black or white, yes or no. It's such a convenient analogy and at times to be sure it's appropriate. Art is a journey and sometimes you do reach a crossroads that is a clear choice, so often though we are not travelling as on a road but are adrift on the open sea, we have a course but are influenced by forces beyond our control and can end up drifting off in an unexpected and unwelcome direction.

It's so easy to drift into bad habits, I've recently caught myself taking my art for granted, I've been pushing myself hard to produce work for my coming exhibition and have found I've developed a 'that'll do, next!' attitude to my paintings. Where the hell did that come from?...and how will 'that do' exactly? Will it do because it's saleable? because it's up to a certain standard that I've come to expect my art to adhere to? Sounds a lot like a feeling of complacency to me, something an artist has no business experiencing.

Just this morning I read a post on t'internet from a gallery owner about being spammed by aspiring artists who tell him that their art will be just the thing for his gallery, he went on to say, quite rightly of course, that a gallery cannot simply display anything that any artist thinks is worthy, the business doesn't work like that and on the whole aspiring artists need a bit of business acumen. There is of course a large element of truth in that, if you want a gallery to display your work then you'll need to conform to the gallery's standards, they know their market after all. If you want your art to sell then you need to produce work that appeals enough to buyers that they buy it. I can't help though to feel a bit uncomfortable about this though, of course we have to compromise ourselves to some extent. If we accept a commission we are probably working with a subject that is not one we would have chosen, sometimes it's necessary to 'brute force' such work to get it done.

This is one of those areas where there is no definite choice but a subtle shift in direction. We don't decide to never paint what we want and how we want to but to cynically turn out work that conforms to a sensible model that is appropriate, saleable, complements the galleries wall decor etc, where we decide that inspiration, wonder, experimentation all get thrown out in favour of grinding out pretty pictures. What happens is that it's easy to get lazy, to slowly slide into a way of painting that 'ticks the boxes' without even realising it's happening until one day you look at the work you're doing and say 'what the hell's all this stuff?'

What's to be done though to prevent this slide into conformity, even into mediocrity? You have to pay your way. How far are we prepared to let ourselves slip, to slowly compromise our work to gain a modicum of critical & financial success as an artist? Once we've developed enough skill to consistently turn out crown pleasing work then it's very tempting to do so at the expense of what you could become if you stuck to your guns, didn't give an inch and painted what and how you were inspired to paint.

At some level we all know that that's how you become great, not by knowing which arses to kiss and pickling cows and such but by being absolutely honest and 100% dedicated to our vision, our ideas in art.

http://EzineArticles.com/6506462

Triquatrain And Pantoum Poetry

The ghostly ship ( fantasy)

In the blue sky height, the red strange sun's waves of light
Rend here and there the painful horizon making it to be mobile.
Touching the Southern Bight, they seem to reach the night,
Making the sea to be as empowered and as blue as a noble.

The sea waves transgress, diaphanous moonlight illuminates the Ness
And cannot displace the waves of the painful horizon in universe.
The moon's whispers,nevertheless, can touch the sea with finesse.
The stars are sky's tears, their light is really true in reverse.

At the horizon's frontiers, from another life, a ship appears
To reach the ghostlike moonlit memories on the shoreline.
The past sinks its fears into the inaudible music of the spheres.
We're on that illusory ghostly ship and you are forever mine.

Note:

Triquatrain

The Triquatrain form was created by Robert L. Huntsman. It is a quatrain poem in tri-rhyme with a specific rhyming pattern (see below). Lines 1 and 3 have internal rhyme whereas lines 2 and 4 do not.

Rhyme Pattern:

(a,a)b(c,c)b

(d,d)e(f,f)e

(g,g)h(i,i)h

My poem has the Rhyme Pattern:

(a,a)b(a,a)b

(c,c)d(c,c)d

(e,e)f(e,e)f

The mirror

Human values

Mirrored images
Engrossed in self
Magic imago,

Mirrored minds
Engrossed in self
No moral code,

Minded mirrors
Engrossed in self
Imago of banked souls,

Awakened souls
Engrossed in self
No nourishment,

Graffiti walls
Magic in the mirror
Engrossing secret codes,

Erosion of values
Image deterioration,
Anarchy consuming

Human values.

Summer's Dance (Pantoum)

Summer rainbow's ribbon still stretches in the blue rain
As green snakes dance to the tune of charmer's jazz flutes.
Blue butterflies chase velvety bumblebees singing duets in vain,
Summer laughs around red velvety roses and green fruits.

As green snakes dance to the tune of charmer's jazz flutes
Summer's ends her path over meadow, with a dream of green.
Summer laughs around red velvety roses and green fruits,
Moon shines behind the barrier of cloud's fence, as a queen.

Summer's ends her path over meadow, with a dream of green
Into the autumn's sky with puffs of cotton clouds and floating light.
Moon shines behind the barrier of cloud's fence, as a queen.
And dancing green shadowy sprites appear all round the sight.

Into the autumn's sky with puffs of cotton clouds and floating light,
Blue butterflies chase velvety bumblebees singing duets in vain.
And dancing green shadowy sprites appear all round the sight.
Summer rainbow's ribbon still stretches in the blue rain.

http://EzineArticles.com/6506857

Watercolor Painting Technique: Planning Your White Spaces

In watercolor painting, the unpainted shapes are very important. These are the places the artist has planned ahead of time to represent the white areas of the painting. The eye naturally goes to "whites" first, especially if these are areas of high contrast. It is necessary to plan these areas in advance, and not to let them become just an afterthought; the whites need to be part of your overall design. A single white area is not enough in your composition. You will want to have a pattern of whites (in three or more areas of your watercolor) to keep your work balanced. I often find it helpful to look at my initial value sketches upside down, to determine where I might need more white space in my composition.

Once you have decided how much white paper to leave, and where it works best in your composition, you can fill in the values of the remaining shapes. Make sure to vary the sizes and shapes of all the elements of your painting. Your whites can now be adjusted slightly to bring either a warm or cool variation to your scene. For instance, part of a white "shape" (this could be a house for example) in the distance, may be given a cool Cobalt Blue glaze, which will push it further back in your composition, as part of your background. It will still seem like a white house to your viewers, but with a subtle coolness. A very thin wash is all that will be needed here.

The same thing applies to whites in the foreground of your composition. These can be given a soft warm glaze made by mixing Aereolin Yellow and Rose Madder Genuine together. Apply a single layer of this color to a portion of a white element in your foreground. I prefer to wait until much of my painting is complete to add these subtle touches to my whites. This way I am careful not to overdo when altering the whites. These glazes should be very delicate.

Another way to give the whites in your painting a warm or cool cast, is by purposely placing a complementary color adjacent to it. For example, to make a patch of a white dog's fur seem warm, place a cool blue-gray next to this area. This will create a warm glow. In other parts of the animal's fur, use the ideas described above, varying your cool and warm sections. Your watercolor dog will have many different "whites" making him much more interesting to look at!

When altering your watercolor whites, remember less is definitely more!

Sue Doucette
http://www.capecodwatercolor.com/
I have been painting with watercolor for twenty-five years, and I'd like to share with you what I have learned. Many artists wish to keep their "tricks of the trade" secret, fearing you will become the better painter. My hope is that you will come to love painting with watercolor as much as I do!

Pleas visit my website http://capecodwatercolor.com/ and read my monthly Hints For Artists. Feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

http://EzineArticles.com/6496433

Sacagawea Legends - Which One Of The Two Accompanied The Corps of Discovery Westward and Back?

In the early 1800's, it was still common for trappers and fur traders, even the prominent ones, to have Indian wives in different tribes. Sacagawea's husband, Toussaint Charbonneau, was no different. He had two Shoshone wives, including Sacagawea, when he joined the Corps of Discovery together with their newborn son, Jean Baptiste, in 1805. His other wife stayed behind. And then, years after the expedition, he was known to have had as many as six wives.

Post-expedition history.

About three years after the expedition, Toussaint and Sacagawea moved from their ND native village to St Louis so William Clark could keep his promise of educating their now-weaned young son. Toussaint would also try his hand at farming the 320 Missouri acres there awarded to him as a crew member by congress. Sacagawea would track her son, and fit into the village life the best she could.

It did not work out. Toussaint decided he was not a farmer, and sold his land to Clark. Also, Sacagawea was known for imitating the life there by wearing hand-me-down clothing. She probably was having language difficulties as well. At the time, she was not well-known nor appreciated by the white world.

Two years later (1811), Henry Brackenridge, a lawyer, writer, and traveling fur dealer, saw her and Toussaint together. He wrote in his journal that she was a good creature, mild and gentle, but had become sickly, and wanted to revisit her native country. Later that year, he wrote that both Sacagawea and Toussaint were living at Fort Manuel, SD. They had indeed returned.

Toward the end of the next year, this Sacagawea was dead. On December 20, 1812, a clerk at the Fort Manuel, John Luttig, recorded that the wife of Charbonneau, a Snake (Shoshone) squaw, died of a putrid fever. He wrote, she was a good and the best woman in the fort, aged about 25 years, and she left a fine infant girl. Sacagawea was buried on the fort grounds outside of the stockade. Not long after that, her legend began to grow. No one wanted to believe she was gone.

Five facts confirming her death.

Her good character described above parallels why she received praise and protection from the captains during the expedition, and why they felt obligated to her. Her death age is correct. She was about 19 when the journey ended in 1806. Earlier, during the outgoing journey itself, she had become deathly ill with a high fever and low pulse. Standard medications did not help her any. Luckily, she was given water from a sulfur spring. That cured her for the remainder of the expedition. However, this ailment could be what hurt her health later, especially during the birthing of her second child, Lizette. In August of 1813, official records in St Louis show Clark adopted both of her children, a boy of about 10 and a girl of about one. For this adoption to have taken place legally, the children's parents had to have been known dead. Sacagawea was, and Toussaint was thought to have been killed during an Indian raid. Later, it was learned he survived. Clark was in a position to know of her whereabouts. Near 1826, he noted on a list of the expedition members: "Se-car-ja-we-au Dead."

Who was the second legend?

According to certain oral histories, this one spoke of helping white men on a lengthy journey west. She also had a peace medal, which was like the ones given to the tribal chiefs during the expedition. She eventually left the Comanche tribe she had joined, and made her way back to her Shoshone people where she died in 1884.

Yet, if her supposed ages of 78 or 100 are subtracted from 1884, she was either born the same year the expedition ended, or she was 21 when she joined the expedition in 1805. The real Sacagawea was about 16-17 when she joined the Corps with her husband and newborn son.

Also, a ND Native-American scholar on Sacagawea, Dr. Amy Mossett, thinks the second one could have been one of Charbonneau's later wives, possibly the Ute one. Mossett has researched numerous tribal histories thoroughly, and found them to be conflicting and confusing. Still, this theory makes sense.

For one thing, white men's legends and rumors are also devoid of documentation, and are embellished and confusing for varied reasons. Additionally, this later wife could have easily acquired knowledge of the journey and a peace medal from her husband who had made that journey.

Conclusion. In agreement with most of today's historians, the real Sacagawea died at Fort Manuel, SD, in 1812, after serving successfully on the expedition. For more information on Sacagawea or the expedition, see these websites.

http://EzineArticles.com/6508876

Ancient Greek Warfare - The Phalanx

Classical Phalanx

Drums beat in the distance, keeping the rhythm of the advance. The hot Greek sun beats down on you under your heavy armor and equipment. The overlapping shields of you and your fellow soldiers keeps you locked into formation, steadily advancing towards your enemy. Several yards out from the enemy line, the order is given to charge. You crash into your opponent's shield with a sickening crunch, the pushing match has begun. Friendly soldiers behind you push you harder into the enemies' shields as their allies do the same for them. Placing your left soldier and thigh against the rim of your shield, you push with all your might as you stab through the cracks in the shield wall with your spear. The rank behind you stabs over it. Welcome to phalanx warfare.

Battles would continue like this for over an hour with many men being crushed to death, suffocating in the heat, or being speared by the enemy. Eventually, the line on one side would break and the men would scatter, knowing the battle was lost. These pushing matches were how many experts believe Greek warfare was fought during the late Archaic Age and all during the Classical age, with little variation. But first, what exactly is the phalanx?

The phalanx can best be described as a long line of heavily armored men moving in rhythm with each other. As hoplites carried massive shields, these would overlap with the shields of the men next to each hoplite. You defended the man to your left with your shield and the man to your right defended you. This created a solid wall of bronze with iron tipped spears poking out. Drums or other kinds of musical instruments kept the rhythm for the advance. If anyone ran ahead or fell behind, the solid line would be incomplete and severely weakened as a result. Since the phalanx required much concentration and cohesion to maintain, it was only effective at a walk or slow charge and even then, only on flat even ground. Uneven terrain would break up the shape in a heartbeat. In addition to this, attacked from the sides or rear, the phalanx was slaughtered and as this formation was so slow, being attacked in the flanks was a very real threat.

Despite these flaws, in head on engagements almost nothing could penetrate the solid wall of the phalanx except for another, larger phalanx. The typical phalanx was eight men deep, that is, eight rows of men, and any number of men wide. There are instances of both less and greater ranks of men in various battles though. The hoplite's main weapon was a spear between seven to nine feet long. With spears this long, the first two ranks of men would be able to reach the enemy with their spears. Deeper rows would serve as both reinforcements if front row men fell and as pushing weight used to keep pressure on and break the enemy's line. As a greater physical force than the opponent was required to win, sometimes there would be veteran soldiers in the very rear of the phalanx with swords drawn to "prod" their men on and keep them from faltering.

Macedonian Phalanx

Philip II of Macedon saw both the potential and limitations of the Greek phalanx and sought to improve it and make it truly unstoppable. He created the sarissa, a spear 18 feet long and held in both hands, rather than the hoplite's one. As a result, five rows of men could present their sarissa to the enemy! That means there were more spears in the front row than there were targets for them to skewer! The flip side of the coin, however, is that as both hands were required to wield the deadly sarissa, a large shield could no longer be used. A much smaller, lighter shield was strapped to the arm or done away with completely; as was most of the heavy armor. With five rows of spear points presented no enemy could be able to get close enough for the soldiers to need armor. He called his new infantry phalangites, rather than hoplites.

In addition to reinventing the phalanx, Philip II of Macedon added a very heavy and very deadly cavalry element to his army to compensate for the phalanx's lack of flexibility, speed, and mobility. He added javelin throwers and heavy infantry in addition to a large variety of other soldiers, all in an effort to make his army more flexible and adaptable. With this army he easily defeated Greek phalanx armies and was able to gain political power over Greece. Upon his death, his son, Alexander, took over Macedon and with the powerful phalanx and army developed by Philip, Alexander went on to conquer the Persian empire. The phalanx, with its mobile yet heavy cavalry wing, helped create the empire of Alexander the Great.

The End

Ultimately, the phalanx's lack of flexibility, slow speed, and enormous vulnerability on the flanks led to its demise. Roman armies, using highly adaptable formations and advanced battle tactics, were able to defeat the phalanx in all its variations. They exploited its weaknesses and avoided its strength and wound up conquering all of Greece, an achievement never before done. After centuries of total domination of the battlefield, the phalanx became obsolete. It should be noted, however, that various alterations of the phalanx were used in wars and armies millennia later, albeit limitedly.

http://EzineArticles.com/6498301

Poems (Fibonacci, Sonnet, Haiku)

FIBONACCI WORD UNIT AND LINE UNIT PALINDROME POEM

It
is
Rats' star,
Drawn onward,
No devil lived on.
Blessed are they believe they are blessed.

MY DEAR FRIENDS, A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION

'It's true for me, if I believe it.'
I may believe it, but it may be wrong.
It might be a lie.
So, I may believe that something is wrong,
Or I can refute to believe it, but it can be right.
'There's no right or wrong',
Or there is no truth for me.
Anyway, I must believe in something.
So, I need a virtue.
I need the truth.
Now, all I know is that I have a need.
Can anyone tell me,
Because I need to know,
'Can a virtue be taught? '

FOR JESUS

Shadows of HIS footprints are HIS words
And I love to enclose them all inside
In time
Shadows of HIS words are HIS thoughts
And I love to call them eternal
Because
"Thou shalt speak unto him, and put words
In his mouth:
And I will be with thy mouth,
And with his mouth,
And will teach you what ye shall do." (Exodus 4:15)
And shadows of His thoughts are HIS words
Because His thoughts are incommensurable
And shadows of HIS words are HIS footprints
Because we will become land
And
Because we will be the land needing HIS footprints...

FIVE HAIKU POEMS

Regret

Don't regret the past
It happened for a reason,
So, just look forward.

Life

Eat not to dullness,
Drink not to elevation,
Think innocently

Natural things

In this common world,
Draw new virtues from above
For natural things

Success

So many people
Work long hours,even weeks,
Without successes.

Ethic

To use moral sense
For the betterment of selves
Is quite immoral.

THE END OF TIME (TERZA RIMA SONNET)

I pray, although it's the end of the time,
The angel wakes up to flutter his wings.
Fluffing up the cloud's pillow, he's sublime.

Snowflakes are the angel's feathers, like springs.
They dance with the wind of change, in despair.
The sky glows pinky in the shades of things.
We're like icy trees screaming at the air,
With icy leaves and crystal hearts, we dream
The crystals of wept tears in our prayer.
Within sky vastness is our bleeding scream,
Digging early graves in the war of crime,
While our thread of love weaves wounds for life's gleam.
I pray, although it's the end of the time,
Fluffing up the cloud's pillow, he's sublime.

http://EzineArticles.com/6439077

Watercolor Papers - An Overview

Watercolor paper comes in many different forms. There are blocks of paper, full sheets (measuring 22"X30"), half sheets, sketchbooks and pads. It may also be purchased in a long roll, 42" wide, which may then be cut to any length you desire. The papers have many different surfaces and weights, and are most commonly "cold pressed" or "hot pressed". A gelatin sizing is added to the paper, either during or after its production, to make it less absorbent. Without the sizing it would be overly absorbent and become "soggy" when watercolor was applied.

"Cold pressed" watercolor paper has a medium texture to its surface. It's neither smooth nor rough, and is my personal favorite. Once the paper has been made, it is pressed through cold cylinders to flatten it; hence its name.

"Hot pressed" watercolor paper is pressed through heated cylinders at the end of their production, yielding a smooth, slick surface. The paint seems to move around a bit on it before settling in.

Many sheets of watercolor paper have lovely deckled edges. These irregular borders are a result of the paper making process and give it character. Whenever I need to make a smaller piece, from a full sheet, I carefully tear along the line I have made, rather than cut it. Although this edge won't be nearly as nice as the deckled ones, it is somewhat rough and much preferred to a cut edge.

When choosing a watercolor paper, you will notice a weight in its description. The higher the number, the heavier the paper. This number is derived from stacking 500 completed sheets, and then weighing the stack. For example, there is 140 lb paper and 300 lb paper. The three hundred pound paper won't buckle when wet, making it easier to work with, but of course is more expensive.

I always use 140 lb paper and get around the buckling issue in two ways. The first is to lightly wet the back of the paper before painting on the front. This helps to keep the paper from curling while I am painting. The second thing I do is when I have finished painting for the day, I evenly dampen the back of my work, then place it between two sheets of masonite board flat on the floor. I then place five one gallon jugs, filled with cement, on top of the masonite. Any heavy objects would do, such as stacks of books. In the morning I have a perfectly flat painting.

Sue Doucette, Artist/Author
http://www.capecodwatercolor.com/
I have been painting with watercolor for twentyfive years, and would like to share with you what I have learned. Many artists wish to keep their "tricks of the trade" secret, fearing you may become the better painter. My hope is that you will come to love painting with watercolor as much as I do!

Please visit my website http://www.capecodwatercolor.com/ and check out my monthly Hints For Artists. Feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

http://EzineArticles.com/6506498

Interring Intruding Thoughts and Dancing Around The Fire (2 Poems)

I would like to get comments on these two poems I wrote. Lately I've been trying to incorporate narratives into my poems, and I would like to know what people think about these. I write mainly as a hobby but I would like to get better, so all criticism is welcome.

Interring Intruding Thoughts

Could someone sweep this floor?

The question lies in a coffin
At the door of my consciousness.
A sturdy, ash wood, unmovable coffin
At the door of my consciousness,
Restricting thoughts
To the dirty corridor.

My neighbor glances
At his dad's image,
Covers eyes faintly
Reddened by tears
As memories break
Through levees thought
To hold them back.
His lids are shut.

Mine are wide.
I can't stop looking
As flies swarm
The golden tassel,
Clinging to the cob, as newborn
maggots to decayed skin.

As he speaks,
I imagine the thing
Rotting, changing
From gold and green
To a brown, smelly broth,
A feast for the earth below.

Feet shuffle on the sand.
Condolences, small talk
To ward off grief.
Family comes
From the house, shadowy
Faces attempt to smile.

"Good sitting." they say,
One after the other
As they pass. By
The third time, I realise
What the phrase means:
Thanks for coming.
We don't see much of you.
We don't know what to say,
Least know how to say.
But we are here to help.
Whatever you need, ask.

Could you clean this mess?

The question whispers
Through the coffin lid,
Inaudible.

And as it's time to go,
Stepping out the gate,
I think:
Could I have asked
To help
To clean the floor?

Dancing Around The Fire

I approach the smoke hoping to find food
What they could be roasting, I wonder.
A rabbit family in its prime: plucked
From the barn of a village farmer.
Or a goat: one of the many that roam
The streets, idly gnawing at the women's laundry
Having finally found a better use.
Or even better: an elk... in Africa?
I am delirious now. I should hurry.
Whatever it is, sweet juices will be streaming from it
And I shall thank God for his good grace: I am alive.

I have been walking for half
A day, the balls of my feet
Torn, my left arm enshrouded
In a constellation of shrapnel
Though I can feel it no more.
Only a few hundred metres to go.

Their village entrance has been blown to dust
And half the thatch in town has been burned,
Houses abandoned, left to burn
Just like mine has. But there is joy here
They are celebrating a victory
They were more fortunate than I was:
They pushed back the rebels' guns and jeeps,
Protected their girls from sure rape
And revel in their victory( as they should)
Though that smell is still here;
The same smell that soaked my sister's burning body.
They lost some dear ones too. Not many
From what I see: Only a few bodies
Soaked in red water, their final baths.

I see the people dancing around the fire
They have their guns raised obove their heads
Waving them at the sky like the black smoke from the flames
They are wearing military
Trousers and casual white shirts.
I can see it tied in the fire: my redemption.
Sounds of joy falling from the dancers.
It has been attached, feet together
Glazing in the sun
It writhes free and runs out of the flames
They push it back in and it stays there
That smell again.
I must be delirious. For a moment
I thought I saw the shape of lunch
And lunch was a man.

I opened a blog fairly recently where I share poems.

If you liked these poems and want to read more or if you prefer commenting directly on the blog then go to

http://robbyspoeticcorner.blogspot.com/

Hope to see you there.

http://EzineArticles.com/6493932

My Dilemma

Temperature rising, pressure through the roof
This dilemma is the cause of the stress I'm going through
My baby's daddy claims to love me
After I've finally found another man,
The thing that destroys me is that I know I shouldn't care
But as I try to ignore it and stay right where I am
The text messages through my phone have me stuck in space like damn
I thought I wouldn't care if he ever came around
I thought I wouldn't mind not being with my father of my child
But as I look into statistics and evaluate my families past
I realize that I want different than what most people have had
I want a happy home, where my family can live in peace
Share last names and go out of town to relax on a beach
So my minds so far gone as I think of the perfect picture
Though I know what I have is good, and what we have is content
I just know that the fact that I have a child will prevent him from staying in
He acts as if he can handle being second,
Because my child will forever come first
But deep down I know it hurts, he wanted to ejaculate in me first
What's done is done and I have a child the relationship is great though it gets quit mild
But if I deceive our love, then my ex just runs over my heart
I know you won't want me back and that's the dilemma I can't reach facts
Like is this game my ex is playing real or is it fake
Does he really want us to work or is he holding on to old times sake?
It's a challenge, my mind is racing my ex is walking through the door
He said he wants to speak in person and I don't have time for rehearsing
So let's see what he wants to say and feed off his words with emotions...
I'm listening to him as he speaks, I'm shaking my head to whatever, I agree
The conversation is making me weak, the tears falling down my face brought me to my peak
I've broken down, my heart is too heavy, love is in the air but it's foggy so the image is blurry
I'm done trying to put the pieces together cause my hands are all full and I have no time to worry
So the conversation is through and I hope I've made the right decision,
Only God knows if I should've choose the other.

http://EzineArticles.com/6515623

Watercolor Painting Styles: What's Yours?

Watercolor painting styles are unique and personal. There are as many styles as there are artists. Some paint very loosely, others "tightly" with a photographic quality to their artwork. Often artists will emulate other, more well-known painters. The paintings of Winslow Homer for example, tend to be very realistic with much detail. Many would-be artists of his time learned to paint by copying his work. In the 1800s "copyists" practiced duplicating Homer's paintings at the Louvre Gallery in Paris.

One of Winslow Homer's best known watercolors is "Breezing Up" (first titled, "A Fair Wind") It was said in 1876, when this picture was exhibited, that it was in a class of its own. As one review put it, "Its sincerity and cleanliness of idea served as an exemplary antidote to the venality and corruption of post-Civil War American political life." So not only was his actual painting style important but also the feelings it evoked following a difficult wartime.

A more modern artist Charles Reid, renders very loosely painted watercolors yet his compositions are well planned. He makes contour drawings of his subjects which emphasizes a linear quality. In these drawings he often attaches the subject to background shapes. This is done without explaining all of the subject's boundaries. It gives his work an interesting quality. His relationships between one form and another in his works are thought out in advance and the spirit of his subject is often captured through rhythm or gesture. These elements give Reid's watercolors a distinct look which is loosely painted. It may appear that he quickly and spontaneously completes a painting, when actually much preparation has gone into it.

A third modern artist Timothy J. Clark, has a style which I consider to be somewhere between that of Winslow Homer and Charles Reid. His watercolors have the same well planned compositions as the previously mentioned artists. His skill and knowledge of his medium are evident in his work which is neither photographic in nature, nor painted very loosely. His paintings have a painterly quality which one is able to recognize as his own style.

A good painting is not only well executed, but draws the viewer in to experience the emotion the artist is conveying. This can be accomplished with any style or technique, if the work is coming from the heart. My advice is to practice emulating any artists' work you like, but in the end just be you. You will find if you stay true to yourself, your own style will emerge; one which is uniquely yours.

Sue Doucette, Author/Artist

http://www.CapeCodWatercolor.com/

I have been painting with watercolor for twenty-five years, and would like to share with you what I have learned. Many artists wish to keep their "tricks of the trade" secret, fearing you will become the better painter. My personal hope is that you will come to love painting with watercolor as much as I do!

Please visit my website http://www.capecodwatercolor.com/ and read my monthly Hints For Artists. Feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

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Squirrels - The Plague of Southern Ohio in the Early 1800s

When we think about the dangerous animals faced by our pioneer ancestors, what comes to mind? Probably we would imagine wolves, bears, panthers, and poisonous reptiles. Few would consider the lowly squirrel! But for the early Ohio settlers, the squirrel was the cause of famine and suffering.

As pioneers moved into the Valley of the Paint in southern Ohio in the early 1800s, they immediately began to radically change the area's landscape. Cabins had to be built, fireplaces stoked, and fields cleared for planting. As a result, the great oak, beech, chestnut, and black walnut trees were cut down far and wide. Trees not needed for building were rolled to the vast fires and destroyed.

These trees, especially the nut-bearing ones, were the habitat and food source for the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of squirrels in the area. In short order, the squirrels were desperate for food. They turned to the easiest and most abundant food source-the pioneers' crops.

Seemingly overnight, hordes of the furry thieves stripped the fields of the young corn, wheat, and rye plants. The settlers and their families were now facing a winter of starvation. There were no general stores in this wilderness; the only food was what the pioneers grew for themselves. Many of the settlers hastily planted kitchen gardens of cabbages and turnips in order to have some provender for the harsh winter to come, while others, who had seed corn still, replanted their corn crop quickly, hoping for a small harvest before the snow came.

In addition to the squirrels' depredations, blight struck the remaining corn crop at the same time. Many suffered despite the assistance offered by those residents fortunate enough to have a little to spare. American pioneers always supported each other through extended family groups or as neighbors. This was the way before government stepped in to solve the country's problems. We took care of ourselves.

Highland County, in response to the settlers' complaints, put through a county levy in 1806. This levy required residents to turn in a specified number of squirrel scalps under penalty of law. Open warfare had been declared against the pests. Men headed into the remaining woods with muskets loaded and ready, along with bags to carry the small, furry bodies. Back at the cabins, the tiny scalps were carefully stored to meet the levy. No doubt, the carcasses ended up in the stewpot hung over the fireplace. Squirrel was a popular meat among the pioneers.

The harsh winter of 1807-08 nearly eliminated squirrels as a species in the Valley, and the levy was allowed to expire. The pioneers continued to subdue the wilderness and open the land to agriculture. The days of the great forests blanketing Appalachian Ohio were coming to an end. In their place now stood row upon row of tall corn plants and waving wheat. Civilization was on the march.

Although most people would name wolves or rattlesnakes as the worst danger to early Ohio pioneers, it was the squirrel that caused the most suffering. Man's effect on the rodents' food source led to crop loss and famine. The county act that required the killing of the squirrels, along with the settlers' sharing with their neighbors in need, helped the new community make it through the long, cold winter to come.

Donna Gruber Adair is a former teacher of high school English and creative writing with a degree in history. Her newest book, An American Odyssey, follows a real-life pioneer family in their journeys through Ohio, Indiana, and Kansas, finding adventure on the Santa Fe Trail, the Colorado Gold Rush, and the Civil War. Find it at Amazon.com in print or for download to Kindle or PC, or at http://www.createspace.com/3618194

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