A Walk on The Beach

The low-country crawfish boil in middle South Carolina started under a cloudy sky.

It was a fun party which we shared with peacocks, goats, kittens (including "Bob" who used to live with us), pens of puppies, turkeys and chickens.





Lucy wasn't sure she liked the huge peacocks or the turkeys, but KNEW she didn't like the crawfish.

It seemed that the sun absorbed as much of the red delicacies as the guests and I was delighted to see a red sky.

















I hope it heralds the end of our week-long rain spell since I will be driving to Hilton Head Island for my annual visit with friends -- one from Arizona and one from Virgina. I NEED a walk on the beach!

BushStrokes (c) AAB

Photo of the Week: Belle's Berries

Belle is now almost ten months old and almost walking. There was nothing 'almost' about her adventure with a bowl full of strawberries which she tackled with both hands.

I thought we would all enjoy them, but they quickly became Belle's berries.

BushStrokes (c) AAB

For Others To See

Each year when the Southern Watercolor Society mailings come,I faithfully put the dates on my calendar and then let the deadlines go by.

When the invitations to openings arrive, I note the dates and forget to make reservations.

I open the catalog of the annual exhibition with little enthusiasm for the usual good watercolors. (Edward Betts once said when selecting award, "Technical ability is a given at this level." as he looked for real winners.)

I have become complacent in expecting the usual quality of work by artists who share some of the same culture, blue skies and sunlight . . . in expecting a unique portrayal of the region.

This year, there has been one difference. The paintings are smashing, but the catalog is beautifully designed and printed. It is one of the best! The officers and committees have done their job well in providing information and images. I am proud to be listed among their past presidents. I think I will leave it out for others to see.

Note: The images of the 2008 31st exhibition are here.

BushStrokes (c) AAB

Just Not Real Soon!

Emergency Room visits with little ones are always scary. So when we had to take Lucy for a late-night-spiking temperature, it was reassuring that someone had decided that the Pediatrics rooms could at least be cheerful. Flowers and bugs and butterflies fill walls in hallways -- spots of color which the artist seems to have added as an afterthought.

The signature confirms that it is the work of Richard Worth who has filled many walls in our town with his brush strokes. He is very good at meeting the requirements of homeowners in matching their colors, periods or peculiarities. And he is FAST!

At University Hospital, he has created the illusion of a tree house in the children's waiting area. He has tucked a friendly black and white dog behind picket fences and peeping around doorways in the exam rooms. He splashes birds, clouds and trees in unexpected places.

Although the diagnosis of a simple ear infection may have affected my emotions, I think I like these better than any of his other work. He has given a sense of joy and spontaneity to a place of fear and crisis. I think they're Worth seeing again. Just not real soon!

BushStrokes @AAB

Sometimes It's Just Good Craft

The craft of telling stories takes time to learn; the art takes a lifetime.

Sonia Simone
in her blog: Remarkable Communcation

I have rephrased the quote today because I needed this reminder: The craft of making art takes time to learn; the art (of making art) takes a lifetime.

The difference between the craft and the art is easy to understand in most creative endeavors and the role of good technique (the craft) cannot be dismissed.

• In writing, words are selected; sentences are tweaked and paragraphs are molded to complete the thoughts of the writer. I read, I write and, occasionally, I turn a phrase which sings just out of reach of "craft."
• In music, scales and chords are practiced; arpeggios and phrases are massaged for voice or instrument to translate the notes on the score. I practiced, I learned proper fingering and phrasing during years of piano lessons, and, occasionally my playing reached just past "well-crafted technique."
• In art, the medium and techniques are explored, elements and ideas are merged in a composition of space, light and shape. I sketch, plan and paint and occasionally, I create a painting which breathes with life just beyond "nice."
  

I'd like for all my creative attempts to be 'art' and I have practiced the craft well, yet I know I have often fallen short. I know that the craft vs. the art is important in the journey, but, for a painter, sometimes the words seem muddled and it is easy to forget that my 'art' is not always "Art." Sometimes it's just good craft.

BushStrokes (c) AAB

Thanks To Google Alerts!

Bless Google Alerts!  Through frequent email notifications, I have learned that "Annette Bush" is a realtor, a graphic designer, a politician, a columnist, a teacher . . . . and that two of my paintings are listed on eBay.

Last month, I had received an email about two of my original paintings which had been acquired by a new owner.  She asked about the value and wanted to know the "story" behind the work -- sounded like someone who loved the work!  When I read the titles, I distinctly remembered the twenty year old paintings, so I replied and gave little thought after that, except to wonder about no "Thanks for the info."

So last week, when the email from Google Alerts mentioned those paintings, I followed the link and discovered that the new owner now has no use for them and wishes to sell them on eBay. She has linked to my website for further information, but says this: 
"Annette Bush is a native of Augusta, Georgia, but has lived and worked all over the Southern United States, as well as Japan and France.  She is primarily known as a watercolorist, but also paints in oils, has illustrated books, and is also an active teacher and a Fine Arts and Crafts Juror at many exhibitions and festivals."
Makes me sound okay, I guess. Just not good enough to meet her reserve price, so the paintings are listed again.  I hope she gets her money, but I wish she had been honest in her inquiry and just said she wanted to sell them.  (And I wish she had taken better photos!)

In theater, delivery of the mail is often portrayed as an exciting event filled with letters and news from far distances.  The Internet has joined the mail delivery in keeping us up to date with news and information, sometimes in unexpected ways -- thanks to Google Alerts!

BushStrokes (c) AAB

Not My Pie

My sister had cooled her lemon meringue pie on the porch overnight to keep from getting the moisture bubbles sometimes caused by refrigeration. When she brought it in and uncovered it, she discovered the golden balls sprinkled across the surface.

She is rarely unnerved by 'disasters' of any sort, so she placed it on the cloth which had been crocheted by our grandmother more than fifty years ago, announced that they were 'moon bubbles' and served Easter dinner!

I couldn't resist adding the pristine blossoms from my Cherokee Rose to snap this picture. I've served many lemon meringue pies in the past, but I was sorry this one was not my pie!

BushStrokes (c) AAB

Photo of the Week: A Child's Easter

This week, I couldn't just choose one so there's one with Lucy sitting by the Easter Bunny and one of Belle at her first egg hunt.



@AAB

Lessons from Lucy: Making Mud

Rule number one for many artists is "Never Make Mud." Watercolorists are often in a tizzy after over-working, glazing over wet pigment and just muddling the painting. Oil painters are not immune -- in my one college painting class, I made lovely mud! And writers can truly make murky paragraphs filled with inaccurate words and too many points of view.

Lucy has a spirit of "Joyous Naughtiness" about her (another good rule when trying out new things.} She learned about the fun of Making Mud when I bought her some new rain boots and we found the perfect puddle of water during one of our walks.









She carefully tested the water and loved scooting back and forth. There were Smiles.















She suddenly decided that jumping would be a good thing -- water splashed over everyone. There was Laughter.














Finally, she realized that the water had turned dark and muddy. Uh. Oh! There were Frowns.


She was dismayed at the condition of her beautiful pink boots. She was sure they were ruined. After being assured that the boots could be easily cleaned, she was ready for more scooting, splashing and mud-making. She knows when she's ready to be serious about what she's doing; something many of us never learn.

She won't be told "Never Make Mud." However, she will certainly have to learn the difference between Sunday patent leather Mary Janes and rubber boots with "Kitty Faces."

Not a bad thing:Making Mud.

@AAB

It's A Scary Thought

There was much buzz last week about the upcoming Brahms German Requiem. Although a part of the regular 'Concerts With A Cause' at St. John United Methodist, this one was held at the larger suburban First Baptist Church.A guest conductor, the Symphony orchestra, a baritone and a soprano soloist, members of five choirs, and words in German held the attention of the overflowing audience. My daughter and I claimed seats near the center and much too close to the front, but with that many participants, we opted to have a unique view of a few.

Although the Requiem is a prayer about grief and suffering, it seemed to speak to this glorious day. I circled a phrase in the program notes: ". . . your heart will rejoice." John 16:22 But, as the concert ended, it was the last line which I knew would define the Brahms and this day for me.

Earlier in the day, I had overheard visitors to our morning service say to our minister that they were here for the afternoon concert. Something made me speak to them, asking where they were from. When they answered, I said, "I used to live there." I asked where they went to church and when they answered, I said, "I used to work there." One of the two brothers looked at me and said, "Wait. Are you Annette Bush?" Mike and Ray talked at once remembering that I conducted their confirmation classes, that as teenagers, they often sat around in my office which is still there and more . . . . Our families just stood by a little stunned.

We didn't talk long on the sidewalk, but it was long enough for the cobwebs to be swept away from forty+ year old memories about that congregation in another state. (We even made some new connections as we realized that, at last year's Birthday Party for Jesus, Ray's son-in-law Charles joined my daughter Kathryn and baby Belle to portray the Holy Family.)

It has been strange looking back on 'one of my other lives' and it left me feeling a little discombobulated. Aside from a four month special project, that had been my first real job after I graduated from college in 1963 with a degree in Religion. I did the job as best I could and it was work I enjoyed. Who could know that the impressions made on two young brothers would remain with them for forty years?

As Brahms' glorious music came to a close that afternoon, I circled the final phrase in the program notes,


". . . for their works follow after them." Revelations 14:13

It's a scary thought.

@AAB