Porter

Porter, acrylic on board, 6 x 6 x 3

Elizabeth W. Seaver

Had he known what a fraught, frightening, freaky Halloween awaited him, Porter would, no doubt, have asked his mother, his father, or even his slightly patronizing, sometimes mean, ten year old sister to accompany him. But he didn't. And even worse, he forgot any kind of candy receptacle. Lucky for him, his "which came first, chicken or egg" costume had capacious pockets. And when those filled, there was plenty of room left between what was Porter and what was stuffing.

But then he thought of something. "I hope I sewed the elastic around my legs tight enough. Hmm. Maybe I should stick my candy all the way into the top of my tights. Yes, that's it." Reassured, he immediately stopped thinking about the time his birthday pinata leaked all that candy--a good thing at a birthday party, but not tonight. Tonight there were ghouls and goblins, princesses and pirates, Captains Underpants and Supermen who would scoop up rogue candy, even if they knew the source of the leak.

Nothing could have made Porter turn his silver bike around and go back home, though he should have, because what happened that Halloween eve changed Porter forever.

 * * * *

Now it's your turn.

What happened to Porter that fateful Halloween night? Leave your creepy, crawly, humorous, spooky, spiteful, monstrous ideas in the comments box.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Wilbur and His New Green Trike

Meet Wilbur. He is a new collaboration between sculptor Tex Forrest and me. Tex got excited about my birds on bikes and one day showed up with a gessoed bird and tricycle. He had carved the bird out of foam and found the trike somewhere exotic, I'm sure.

His part was done, and it was left to me to figure out who this fellow was. It had to be a fellow, 'cause of the comb on his head, right? Well it took MONTHS, but finally he popped into my brain and introduced himself. After that it didn't take long to transform the plain white sculpture into Himself.

As you can tell, Wilbur is a happy fellow. Proud of his new green trike, he took it out for a spin in today's lovely fall weather.

Then, he parked himself back on his shelf at Water Street Studio.

I'd Rather Be Sleeping

This IS My Happy Face, 4 x 4, acrylic, Elizabeth W. Seaver

Title borrowed from my student's t-shirt yesterday--thanks, J!

We have experienced quite the opposite of the weather in my painting the last few days. Skies have been beautifully sunny, and October breezes blew--kinda chilly for those of us still circulating summer-warmed blood.

Alas, it is time for seasons to change, and yesterday we got the jump on Halloween with a downtown trick or treat event. Ninjas, ghosts, princesses, pirates and their patient parents wandered among store fronts to collect all kinds of things, including oos and ahs from local business owners. We gave the traditional candy, but we saw books and pencils in pumpkin buckets as well.

Let me leave you with one thought: perhaps purple plastic princess shoes are not the best footwear for traipsing city streets.

Here's Something Cool

My poem Loves Me, Loves Me Not was published in the June issue of From the Depths, a publication of Haunted Waters Press.

Today we discovered the page for HWP on the Poets and Writers site where they kindly listed Susan Carter Morgan and me as contributing writers.
 

No Fly Zone

No Fly Zone, 4 x 12, acrylic, Elizabeth W. Seaver

I think this one speaks for itself.

* * * *

If you cannot tell, let me say "out loud" that I am having a great time in my studio.

Friends are dropping in to visit and work, the sun has been shining in my window, warming my back as I paint, and my birdie friends are visiting long enough to be captured on canvas.

Life is good.

* * * *

Tonight: Looking forward to hearing Steve Watkins read from his new book, JUVIE, out this month from Candlewick Press. Happening at our new place, Water Street Studio in downtown Fred. Come on by if you're in the area.

Camilla Hates to Fly

Camilla Hates to Fly, 5 x 7, acrylic, Elizabeth W. Seaver

"I won't spend another winter, freezing my tailfeathers off in that strange excuse for a lake in Central Park shopping hell," Camilla muttered to herself as she leaned into the October wind. "Just because I'm afraid of heights...I don't have to miss out on winter in Mexico."

Her breath came in short gasps, and her legs, previously only used to scuttle across Central Park Blvd. to worry the patio diners at Chipotle as she scarfed the chips they dropped, ached with a burning sort of throb.

"What is it with Amtrak that they won't sell a ticket to me, a respectable goose? Next spring, I'm getting into it with Julie!"

Beach Bum

Beach Bum, 6 x 6, collage/acrylic, Elizabeth W. Seaver

Beach Bum is not perhaps the most appropriate name for this strangely elegant bird. But if you look closely in the collage, you can see that there is a map fragment of the coast of Texas--Galveston, to be exact--the place I grew up calling beach. Moody Gardens is visible along the curve of its neck. That is where I have seen flamingos close up. Amazing, prehistoric-looking creatures.

I will be entering Beach Bum in LibertyTown's 6 x 6 show next month. If you are in the area, stop by to see the show in the main gallery. It opens First Friday, November 1.