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| Fine Time Art 01 by Marion 2017 |
Monday, February 27, 2017
Saturday, February 25, 2017
Fine Time Art
[Note: Editor's Post]
Coloring Books were FUN to do as children.
Selecting the never ending colors of crayons, deciding which colors went where and trying to stay in the lines with generally happy results. Of course there were disappointments: broken crayons, missing favorite colors, scribbles and the not uncommon dreaded gash of color outside the boundaries caused by an uncertain young hand or an over enthusiastic application of color.
Later coloring books gave way to sketch books and painting and the DIY world of art.
Coloring books were set aside on the way to adulthood becoming the provenance only of the very young.
Personally, I did miss coloring books. Sometimes I would look at the ones offered up for children remembering hunting for that periwinkle crayon or lamenting the stubs of broken crayons that never seemed to color as well as the unbroken ones. Sketch pads were not quite the same.
Someone in marketing must have noticed.
The makers of coloring books realized there was a ginormous market of untapped coloring book artists just waiting for a chance to color: this time as adults. They recognized that the large block cartoons offered to children would not satisfy the inner coloring desires of an adult and embarked on the possibly hazardous path of offering coloring books for adults.
They built upon the last vestige of time when young people colored between the lines, doing complicated posters that often grace the rooms of high school students and college dormitories.
Building upon the complicated designs of the posters they returned to a book format. Something that would fit in a briefcase or could be carried easily and perhaps sheltered from disapproving eyes. The secret coloring book artist would not be betrayed by a garish cover trolling:
Suddenly, the inner coloring book genie escaped and an explosion of coloring books for adults are now available. Stacks and stacks of all sorts of books. Hard designs, easy designs, books that include the colored pencils, color by number books, books of favorite characters or movies, books with holiday themes. Colored pencils, gel pens, watercolor felt pens, crayons and every sort of media from ink to glitter are available. No more laments for the missing periwinkle as assorted packs of pencils and pens offer hundreds of colors with duplicates of the favorites.
MrsB has become an enthusiastic coloring book artist. She's passed her enthusiasm to everyone around her. She's taken the challenge of merging DIY art with a fixed format. Her selection of media for any piece ranges from colored pencils to gel pens to well, anything she thinks will be interesting. She mixes gel pen colors: coloring one color on top of another while the ink is wet to obtain unusual and distinct colors.
Of her work she said:
I countered:
Thus, our Fine Time Art selection was created.
Look for examples of the art produced by MrsB, myself and perhaps other intrepid secret coloring book artists. The designs will be posted on Mondays. We already have quite a few ready to show.
Our current recurring topics are:
We hope that spring will bring back some Gardening Competition... that is if the rain ever stops. And perhaps a few new recipes will make their way on to a page here and there.
And we want to thank all the readers of MrsB blog. We know that people from all over the world visit her pages and we hope they feel welcome here. We hope you enjoy the stories we tell.
No matter where you are: We are all family.
KimB Editor
Coloring Books were FUN to do as children.
Selecting the never ending colors of crayons, deciding which colors went where and trying to stay in the lines with generally happy results. Of course there were disappointments: broken crayons, missing favorite colors, scribbles and the not uncommon dreaded gash of color outside the boundaries caused by an uncertain young hand or an over enthusiastic application of color.
Later coloring books gave way to sketch books and painting and the DIY world of art.
Make your own and make it your own way.
Coloring books were set aside on the way to adulthood becoming the provenance only of the very young.
Personally, I did miss coloring books. Sometimes I would look at the ones offered up for children remembering hunting for that periwinkle crayon or lamenting the stubs of broken crayons that never seemed to color as well as the unbroken ones. Sketch pads were not quite the same.
Someone in marketing must have noticed.
The makers of coloring books realized there was a ginormous market of untapped coloring book artists just waiting for a chance to color: this time as adults. They recognized that the large block cartoons offered to children would not satisfy the inner coloring desires of an adult and embarked on the possibly hazardous path of offering coloring books for adults.
They built upon the last vestige of time when young people colored between the lines, doing complicated posters that often grace the rooms of high school students and college dormitories.
Building upon the complicated designs of the posters they returned to a book format. Something that would fit in a briefcase or could be carried easily and perhaps sheltered from disapproving eyes. The secret coloring book artist would not be betrayed by a garish cover trolling:
LOOK! SHE'S COLORING!
Suddenly, the inner coloring book genie escaped and an explosion of coloring books for adults are now available. Stacks and stacks of all sorts of books. Hard designs, easy designs, books that include the colored pencils, color by number books, books of favorite characters or movies, books with holiday themes. Colored pencils, gel pens, watercolor felt pens, crayons and every sort of media from ink to glitter are available. No more laments for the missing periwinkle as assorted packs of pencils and pens offer hundreds of colors with duplicates of the favorites.
MrsB has become an enthusiastic coloring book artist. She's passed her enthusiasm to everyone around her. She's taken the challenge of merging DIY art with a fixed format. Her selection of media for any piece ranges from colored pencils to gel pens to well, anything she thinks will be interesting. She mixes gel pen colors: coloring one color on top of another while the ink is wet to obtain unusual and distinct colors.
Of her work she said:
Well, it's not Fine Art.
I countered:
It IS Fine Art because we have FINE TIME doing it!
Thus, our Fine Time Art selection was created.
Look for examples of the art produced by MrsB, myself and perhaps other intrepid secret coloring book artists. The designs will be posted on Mondays. We already have quite a few ready to show.
Our current recurring topics are:
| Recurring Topics | ||
|---|---|---|
| Monday | Fine Time Art | |
| Wednesday | Ripples Episodes | |
We hope that spring will bring back some Gardening Competition... that is if the rain ever stops. And perhaps a few new recipes will make their way on to a page here and there.
And we want to thank all the readers of MrsB blog. We know that people from all over the world visit her pages and we hope they feel welcome here. We hope you enjoy the stories we tell.
No matter where you are: We are all family.
KimB Editor
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Ripples 5 by KimB
[Editor's Note: Ripples is a serial story.
The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]
A quick turn of the tap, a quick swish and the mug was set on a towel to dry.
Washing the mug was easy.
Finding the owner of the phone still eluded her.
Returning to the table, she picked up the phone and examined it again. A rubbery protective cover enclosed most of the phone. She looked carefully at the cover and began to pull at a corner. Pulling here and there along the edges, twisting the phone as she went, she worked at loosening it. She worried that she might damage the phone trying to get the cover off. Still, she thought, if the cover had been put on, then the cover could come off.
With nervous fingers she worked the cover over the edges of the phone. It seemed as if the cover resisted her attempts but like a reluctant jar lid, once the vacuum seal was broken, the cover slipped easily into one hand, the phone in the other.
Something fell on the table.
It was small. Tiny. The red and black color nearly lost on the surface of the worn table. Not even as big as a postage stamp.
She wondered, how many still remembered postal stamps.
The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]
05 Opening Move
She put the emptied chipped mug, in the tiny sink.A quick turn of the tap, a quick swish and the mug was set on a towel to dry.
Washing the mug was easy.
Finding the owner of the phone still eluded her.
Returning to the table, she picked up the phone and examined it again. A rubbery protective cover enclosed most of the phone. She looked carefully at the cover and began to pull at a corner. Pulling here and there along the edges, twisting the phone as she went, she worked at loosening it. She worried that she might damage the phone trying to get the cover off. Still, she thought, if the cover had been put on, then the cover could come off.
With nervous fingers she worked the cover over the edges of the phone. It seemed as if the cover resisted her attempts but like a reluctant jar lid, once the vacuum seal was broken, the cover slipped easily into one hand, the phone in the other.
Something fell on the table.
It was small. Tiny. The red and black color nearly lost on the surface of the worn table. Not even as big as a postage stamp.
She wondered, how many still remembered postal stamps.
Friday, February 17, 2017
Can't
Can't is a contraction of the words: can and not
Meaning: unable
Example:
Meaning: unable
Example:
The French can't count to twenty.
American Generals can't keep their mouths shut.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Ripples 4 by KimB
[Editor's Note: Ripples is a serial story.
The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]
She got up and crossed the room and began to shift the stack of plastic bins. Rummaging through one of them she returned. An old pad of paper and stubby pencil placed on the table, she sat down, picked up the hot coffee and considered the phone.
It couldn't hurt to try to find the owner, she thought.
Brushing aside a small counterpoint of doubt, she placed the found phone on the paper and traced two outlines: one front and one back. She began to draw in all the features she could see. Buttons here and there. Plugs and connection points. She noted the colors that she could see but an enclosing protector covered the back and sides obscuring parts of the phone.
After labeling the outline drawings with what she could see, there still wasn't anything there to indicate the owner.
She frowned slightly.
She remembered long ago, losing her wallet while riding the municipal bus. She had gotten home with a small plastic bag of groceries only to find that the most important item she owned, the wallet, was missing. Her I.D. and a tiny amount of cash were in the wallet. Losing the money would mean a few extra dinners of peanut butter, but losing the I.D. was far worse.
Dread thoughts of having to stand in line after line at numerous offices waiting for bored and exhausted employees to help her fill out the required forms and obtain the official replacements, generated tears of frustration and anger at her own stupidity. Losing the wallet was just another step on the rung downward. No amount of peanut butter could fix that.
It was to her surprise that the door bell rang. Wiping her still damp face, she opened the door to see a person she did not know, standing there. Polite and well dressed, the person stood there and in broken English spoke her name. Yes, she nodded, puzzled as to what this person wanted of her. Then, as if in response to her expression, the person held out her wallet.
Almost like a dream, she reached for the wallet and opened it. There was all her money and her I.D too. A joy of profound relief flooded her. She stuttered her thanks and gestured for the person to remain. She hurried inside to find something suitable. Taking a small knitted lap robe from one of the plastic bins, she returned to the open door to give her thanks and the gift. Stepping outside to share her happiness, she looked around.
The person had gone.
The wallet, the only testimony that the person had ever been.
The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]
04 By Any Other Name
Plastic bins, holding the fragments of what once was, were stacked along a wall. Remnants of the past. Harbingers of the future.She got up and crossed the room and began to shift the stack of plastic bins. Rummaging through one of them she returned. An old pad of paper and stubby pencil placed on the table, she sat down, picked up the hot coffee and considered the phone.
It couldn't hurt to try to find the owner, she thought.
Brushing aside a small counterpoint of doubt, she placed the found phone on the paper and traced two outlines: one front and one back. She began to draw in all the features she could see. Buttons here and there. Plugs and connection points. She noted the colors that she could see but an enclosing protector covered the back and sides obscuring parts of the phone.
After labeling the outline drawings with what she could see, there still wasn't anything there to indicate the owner.
She frowned slightly.
She remembered long ago, losing her wallet while riding the municipal bus. She had gotten home with a small plastic bag of groceries only to find that the most important item she owned, the wallet, was missing. Her I.D. and a tiny amount of cash were in the wallet. Losing the money would mean a few extra dinners of peanut butter, but losing the I.D. was far worse.
Dread thoughts of having to stand in line after line at numerous offices waiting for bored and exhausted employees to help her fill out the required forms and obtain the official replacements, generated tears of frustration and anger at her own stupidity. Losing the wallet was just another step on the rung downward. No amount of peanut butter could fix that.
It was to her surprise that the door bell rang. Wiping her still damp face, she opened the door to see a person she did not know, standing there. Polite and well dressed, the person stood there and in broken English spoke her name. Yes, she nodded, puzzled as to what this person wanted of her. Then, as if in response to her expression, the person held out her wallet.
Almost like a dream, she reached for the wallet and opened it. There was all her money and her I.D too. A joy of profound relief flooded her. She stuttered her thanks and gestured for the person to remain. She hurried inside to find something suitable. Taking a small knitted lap robe from one of the plastic bins, she returned to the open door to give her thanks and the gift. Stepping outside to share her happiness, she looked around.
The person had gone.
The wallet, the only testimony that the person had ever been.
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Valentines
The valentines I've received over the years has varied from Valentine cards from schoolmates, to boxes of chocolate and flowers from admirers to tokens of affection from husband and my children. In long ago lower grade school days, trading valentine cards with those in class was a ritual we always looked forward to. It was a sort of validation that we were liked by our class mates, and we took satisfaction in comparing the numbers of valentines we received.
I remember one particular valentine card I received when in high school. When I removed it from the envelope, I was surprised to see a fancier card than the type we usually bought at the dime store to give away. This valentine had a bit of paper lace and ribbon. It was signed, George.
Now, there was a boy that I has a secret crush on, whose name was George. He was a year ahead of me in high school, so we didn't share any classes, but he was one of a group that often met at my friend Caroline's house after supper to play games. My secret remained just that. Regardless of the fancy valentine, George never seemed to go out of his way to chat or sit with me during lunch.
Some time later, I discovered the valentine had come from Caroline's younger brother, George. It had never occurred to me that a boy in a lower grade would have sent me such a fancy valentine. Needless to say, we both survived our misplaced affections.
I remember one particular valentine card I received when in high school. When I removed it from the envelope, I was surprised to see a fancier card than the type we usually bought at the dime store to give away. This valentine had a bit of paper lace and ribbon. It was signed, George.
Now, there was a boy that I has a secret crush on, whose name was George. He was a year ahead of me in high school, so we didn't share any classes, but he was one of a group that often met at my friend Caroline's house after supper to play games. My secret remained just that. Regardless of the fancy valentine, George never seemed to go out of his way to chat or sit with me during lunch.
Some time later, I discovered the valentine had come from Caroline's younger brother, George. It had never occurred to me that a boy in a lower grade would have sent me such a fancy valentine. Needless to say, we both survived our misplaced affections.
Wednesday, February 08, 2017
Ripples 3 by KimB
[Editor's Note: Ripples is a serial story.
The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]
It had a home, it had an owner. It had been costly to acquire. It would be costly to replace. It had been wanted, at least at some point.
What do you do with a found phone, she thought.
Her first thought was that she would it would be easy to find the owner, just turn it on and Phone Home. As she considered this, something about the phone made her pause, something about it made her question, something made her uneasy.
Maybe Phoning Home wasn't such a good idea.
In the old days, if you found a lost dog, there was the Lost and Found section in the newspapers. The ads were generally free to place and people knew where to look.
Now, there really wasn't anywhere to look or rather, there were too many places to look. There were millions of people looking in these on-line places but not necessarily the one you needed to find.
There were always plenty of people willing to claim a fancy dog that wasn't really theirs. The dog would always expose the fake owners.
There would be a lot of people willing to claim a fancy phone.
A dog would have tried to find its own way home.
Then again, there were some who didn't want their dog back.
The author makes no guarantees as to completing the serial.
Publication dates are located in the left side menu.]
03 Finders Keepers?
The phone was like a lost dog.It had a home, it had an owner. It had been costly to acquire. It would be costly to replace. It had been wanted, at least at some point.
What do you do with a found phone, she thought.
Her first thought was that she would it would be easy to find the owner, just turn it on and Phone Home. As she considered this, something about the phone made her pause, something about it made her question, something made her uneasy.
Maybe Phoning Home wasn't such a good idea.
In the old days, if you found a lost dog, there was the Lost and Found section in the newspapers. The ads were generally free to place and people knew where to look.
- Found Fancy Dog. Near Corner Park. Call to identify
- Lost Fancy Dog. Near Corner Park. Please Call. Reward.
Now, there really wasn't anywhere to look or rather, there were too many places to look. There were millions of people looking in these on-line places but not necessarily the one you needed to find.
There were always plenty of people willing to claim a fancy dog that wasn't really theirs. The dog would always expose the fake owners.
Can't call the dog? Not your dog.
There would be a lot of people willing to claim a fancy phone.
A lot.For all of it being a "smartphone", it wasn't near as smart as a dog ....Too many.
A dog would have tried to find its own way home.
Then again, there were some who didn't want their dog back.
Friday, February 03, 2017
Saving Animals
After I learned about saving wild mustangs on the web pages of the Bureau of Land Management, I surfed other Bureaus of the Department of the Interior, which in turn led to browsing web sites of various foundations and conservancies dedicated to saving wild life.
While wars rage across the planet, one is hard pressed to think of saving wild life when rivers of refugees stream from country to country, seeking safety from falling bombs.
As a child growing up in a small river town in the middle of the country's agricultural area, the only time we saw exotic animals like elephants, giraffes, monkeys, lions and tigers was when the circus came to town and in later years, visits to zoos and aquariums. In those long ago days, the thought that giraffes might become extinct was as absurd as believing in Buck Roger's space adventures.
In the high school class room where we studied biology, the walls were lined with shelves holding stuffed birds of all description. The room was also used by college students and it was assumed that college students studied them, but in those days, birds were the least of my concerns; Robbins were just a familiar sight as they hunted for earthworms in the lawns we passed on our way to school.
It wasn't until I browsed the American Bird Conservancy web site that I learned about bird safe glass. The N. Y. Audubon group has been monitoring the base of a dozen buildings, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Warner Center, for bird kills since 1990. Its estimated that 90,000 birds die each year after flying into glass facades. The solution is bird safe glass.
There are several approaches to creating bird safe glass, silkscreen coating and ultraviolet patterns birds can see, but humans can't. A German company created ultraviolet patterns inspired by the reflective silk strands of spider webs. regardless of techniques used in making the glass, research shows that spacing is even more important. If patterns are placed 2" apart horizontally, and 4" apart vertically, birds will not fly into the glass. Birds will not fly through spaces that are less than 2" high, or 4" wide.
There are hundreds of web sites dedicated to saving birds and more than an equal number dedicated to saving all manner of wild life. Knowing that species come and go, we may not prevent the demise of some. If humans continue to kill humans, AND, continue to search for ways to do so, maybe our species will be the first to go.
While wars rage across the planet, one is hard pressed to think of saving wild life when rivers of refugees stream from country to country, seeking safety from falling bombs.
As a child growing up in a small river town in the middle of the country's agricultural area, the only time we saw exotic animals like elephants, giraffes, monkeys, lions and tigers was when the circus came to town and in later years, visits to zoos and aquariums. In those long ago days, the thought that giraffes might become extinct was as absurd as believing in Buck Roger's space adventures.
In the high school class room where we studied biology, the walls were lined with shelves holding stuffed birds of all description. The room was also used by college students and it was assumed that college students studied them, but in those days, birds were the least of my concerns; Robbins were just a familiar sight as they hunted for earthworms in the lawns we passed on our way to school.
It wasn't until I browsed the American Bird Conservancy web site that I learned about bird safe glass. The N. Y. Audubon group has been monitoring the base of a dozen buildings, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Warner Center, for bird kills since 1990. Its estimated that 90,000 birds die each year after flying into glass facades. The solution is bird safe glass.
There are several approaches to creating bird safe glass, silkscreen coating and ultraviolet patterns birds can see, but humans can't. A German company created ultraviolet patterns inspired by the reflective silk strands of spider webs. regardless of techniques used in making the glass, research shows that spacing is even more important. If patterns are placed 2" apart horizontally, and 4" apart vertically, birds will not fly into the glass. Birds will not fly through spaces that are less than 2" high, or 4" wide.
There are hundreds of web sites dedicated to saving birds and more than an equal number dedicated to saving all manner of wild life. Knowing that species come and go, we may not prevent the demise of some. If humans continue to kill humans, AND, continue to search for ways to do so, maybe our species will be the first to go.
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| ORNILUX bird safety glass |
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