Burford

Burford Surveys His Crops, acrylic on linen, 22 x 28

Elizabeth W. Seaver

I'm sorry to say that Farmer Burford lost his tractor in a poker game, so he must ride his old bicycle about the farm. Today, he's just making an inspection, but when he has to pull the plow, he regrets his profligate ways most deeply. 

Neither he nor Nettie Burford are sitting on their wings. Nettie, even now, bakes cookies, cakes and pies in their farmhouse kitchen to sell at church tomorrow. Burford cannot bake, but he has the best idea ever. It's such a good one, he hasn't even told Nettie yet--it's a surprise. He's setting himself up in a kissing booth, right on the church steps. 

 

Wouldn't you pay a dollar to kiss this bird on your way into church? He really needs his tractor back.

Twinkle-Toes

Twinkle-Toes, acrylic on Masonite, 12.25 x 12.25

Elizabeth W. Seaver

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Twinkle-Toes Smith

Twinkle Toes, known as Mary Smith in her everyday life, was in a pickle. The dream part had been announced at Madame Featherwell's Ballet School where Twinkle attended ballet classes three times a week. She'd worked hard on her plies, her pirouettes were top class, and her smiles sparkled even when her toes smarted. It had all been worth it. She'd landed the role as the lead dancer of the white chocolate mint drops in the Christmas production of Santa Cardinal and the Three-Toed Stocking.

But, there was a fly in the meal worms. She must dance eight more performances, and her costume was too snug. Her shoes pinched her feet. And that night during a sold out performance her tights rolled all the way to her hips when she bent gracefully at the waist. She smiled and kept dancing, just as if the front row couldn't see the bulge. The eagle-eyed stage manager noticed. 

“What are you eating, Twinkle Toes?” Mr. Flapdoodle fumed. “Lay off the chocolate-covered grubs, will you? The costume department told me they've already let out your costume once. There's no money in the budget for a new outfit for you, so I'm warning you; don't get any bigger!”

When her mother picked her up at the stage door, Twinkle sobbed out the whole story. “Mama, I'm so afraid Mr. Flapdoodle might cut me from the show and give Dilly Pinkfeather the part.”

Now, Esther Smith was a smart mama, and she knew that Twinkle Toes' expansion was a natural event. It was time for her daughter to grow, and there was nothing either could do to keep that from happening. On the other wing, she also had observed her chick's fluffy shape and doubted that she had the traditional ballerina silhouette, the long-legged stick figure of say, a flamingo or stork. But Twinkle Toes loved to dance, and her mama hated to squash those dreams. She searched for just the right words.

“You know,” Esther finally said, handing Twinkle Toes a handkerchief, “I'm a fair seamstress myself. Why don't you see about checking your costume out from the department after Sunday's matinee. I'll add material where it can't be seen. We'll buy new tights and shoes which you can break in during dance lessons this week.”

“Oh, mama, do you really think that will work?” asked Twinkle as her tears began to dry.

“Yes, I do. And more than that, I believe it is time for you to try that modern dance class you've been pestering me about for months. You're not getting too big too fast, Sweetheart; you're growing up. It's time for you to spread your wings and broaden your horizons. No too-small costume could ever contain all that is wonderful about you, Mary Smith!” 

Mama kissed her chick good night. 

Mary Twinkle Toes Smith danced joyfully about her bedroom, stopping every so often to practice her jazz wings in the mirror.

Hello from the Edge

Like a single Who on that little speck called WhoVille, I'm here. I'm here. I'm here!

I have been very busy teaching summer camp, painting like crazy, preparing for two art shows in August, hosting a huge party to celebrate milestone birthdays and a 25th wedding anniversary (husband and me), and having plumbing replumbed. I am just beginning to take a deep breath and look around and I'm here to say, I've missed you all!

Here is some new work:

 Hanging Six, acrylic, 24 x 24, Elizabeth W. Seaver

Now, I don't know about you, but I can use a little summer all year long. No seasonal painting for me.

Gramps has primary responsibility for the kids while the middle generation sits in the beach house in the air conditioning.

Which ecosystem would you be inhabiting if you were at the beach right this minute?  House? Beach? Water?

Sir Walter in the Reeds

Sir Walter in the Reeds, 48 x 60, acrylic/printmaking on canvas

Elizabeth W. Seaver

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A wonderful customer who already has a couple of my works in her collection came by my studio this week and fell in love with Walter.  She has a wonderful high- ceilinged place in a renovated school building, so he will have plenty of room to stretch his wings.  She has also generously agreed to loan him back to me for a show scheduled this summer in August and September.  What would we artists do without people who appreciate our work? 

Bicycle Built for Two

Bicycle Built for Two, collage/acrylic, 6 x 6

Elizabeth W. Seaver

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Braeburn, Tightrope Walker

Braeburn, collage/acrylic, 6 x 6

Elizabeth W. Seaver
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As a young bird, Braeburn spent lots of time standing on one foot, much to the consternation of his mother and father.  They encouraged him to fly when his brothers and sisters learned, but he declined to do it.  His parents even hired a private flight instructor for Braeburn, but Mr. Billmore gave his notice after just two lessons.  

Mr. Billmore reported "It isn't that Braeburn can't fly; he can.  Braeburn doesn't want to fly, except on a trapeze, maybe."

Indeed, Braeburn had his dreams firmly fixed on the big top life, and no one could make him change his mind about that.  His parents just shook their heads; the neighbors, it must be said, gossiped about what a strange bird Braeburn must be to turn out so differently from all those nice boys and girls who were his siblings.  But Braeburn didn't pay attention to all those nay-sayers.  He waited until he was of age, scraped all his savings together from odd jobs and went to circus school.

At first, his teachers and trainers despaired.  Braeburn's wings really weren't adequate for trapeze work.  Having fingers to grip bars and wrists turned out to be pretty important.  Braeburn faithfully visited Audrey in the hospital tent, though.

The elephants wouldn't listen to his commands during performance, they just wanted him to check them for fleas and other bothersome critters.  He wasn't really strong enough for the acrobatic acts.  But when Braeburn walked the tightrope, all who watched felt tears clog their throats.  He was magnificent.  He didn't even need a net because, at the end of his act, he could just float down gracefully, holding onto his umbrella.  Test audiences loved him.

On opening night, his parents and all the neighbors showed up, skeptical, but supportive.  Watching him balance on one leg way up in the air was like seeing that little bird from all those weeks ago standing on one foot for hours.  Braeburn's mother sighed in relief, "Braeburn wasn't odd. He was practicing!"

*  **  **  **  **  **  *

(The above is for all you other odd birds out there.  We're just practicing, right?!)

Percival and More

Percival, collage/acrylic, 6 x 6, Elizabeth W. Seaver

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I spent yesterday morning up at The Workhouse installing my featured artist show for May.  The opening is this coming Saturday, May 12, from 6-9.  All my birdie friends will be there, except for Ferdinand.  He has found a new home, so he didn't get to make the trip with Frieda and the others.  I hope some of my human friends will join me, too.

My right hand woman, Lynette, helped put the show up.  Actually, it is more accurate to say that she was both my hands, since I tend to go helpless when trying to arrange my own work in a show.  I finally quit struggling and just let her make all the decisions.  It looks fabulous.

I hope anyone who is in the area will drop by.  The Workhouse is a unique art destination, formerly a D.C. prison, now renovated into working artist and show spaces owned and managed by Fairfax County in NoVA.