watercolor and ink painting of guinea pig by emily weil

daily painting | buster posey

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I wasn’t going to post this but looked at it again today after I came home from grocery shopping and decided my little painting showcases Buster’s adorableness. Buster Posey is my new guinea pig housemate, and how lovely to have another beating heart in the house! (I wasn’t quite ready for kitties.) My wonderful friends Allen and his wife Allison found this little guy in their Berkeley neighborhood, likely abandoned. They tried to find his owner (Allen, being a naturally brilliant biologist, properly sexed him) but no luck and Mr B needed a permanent home, so I adopted him. Allen and Allison and I decided his name should be Buster Posey, as he was Giants-orange and I live by the Posey Tube. Like, duh. Anyways, he’s pretty cute and I’ll probably do a few more sketches of him as he’s a wonderful model, sticking his head out of his favorite place to hang out, a little cave-like plush bed or a tunnel (shoe boxes work great). He’s a little eating machine, loving small-animal hay and sweet peppers and lettuce (Berkeley Bowl day-old produce is now a regular stop). I’m embarrassed at how many cushy little beds I’ve gotten for him. He also has a little play pen where he does laps for exercise and “popcorns” — guinea pigs do these darling little hops when they run around. Sometimes he holds still while I pet his head, and he makes a little purring sound which is heart-melting. OK that’s my animal news, and it’s a good thing my vacuum sucks up the small-animal bed shavings that spill from his cage, as they are everywhere (I pulled some out of my hair today, but things tend to get stuck in there). 

7″ x 7″ watercolor, pen, acrylic pen on paper

 

 

 

daily painting | jean gray

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Kitty #2 for the Frank Bette Center for the Arts fundraiser (www.frankbettecenter.org). I was liking this painting until I needed to do the face — thank god for acrylic pens. My fixers. Worked on this over a couple of days, taking a break to cry today as I watched the memorial service on TV for all the Covid deaths. Heart-shattering. I’ll be up in the morning bright & early & squirrelly to celebrate Biden’s inauguration which can’t happen soon enough. I have struggled lately with dark moods, and today is a bit better. We can all say we’ve been through many difficulties in life — you can’t be on the planet for six decades, as I have, without pain and loss — and being this old gives one perspective; this has been an exceedingly challenging chapter both for myself and my country and we’ll get through it. Wild winds whipped through the bay area last night and today but so far no deck chairs have sailed through my neighbor’s windows. Weather as metaphor. I’ll make some comforting soup tonight and sway along with the rocking and rolling as my houseboat is buffeted by the fierce gusts (which are starting to calm down). She’ll be OK. I’ll be OK. Mooring lines are secure.

7″ x 10″ watercolor, pen, acrylic ink on paper

 

 

 

 

daily painting | zuri

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The Frank Bette Center for the Arts in Alameda (“FBC”) is having a fundraiser; folks sent in photos of their pets and FBC assigned volunteer artists to create artwork of the kitties and dogs and other critters (I was kind of hoping for a turtle). Check out www.frankbettecenter.org. Zuri was my assignment — I’m working on an orange tabby as well, and the paint is drying as I write this. Kind of housebound today — a bit under the weather and this morning I freaked out as I ate some of last night’s dinner salad and it tasted, well, mediocre. Is it my taste buds? Am I sick with Covid? No other symptoms, but I’ll lie low and quarantine for now just in case. I think it was just a rather bland salad as my morning tea was delicious. I suspect it’s because my emotions are raw and my nerves are like unraveling mooring lines; had a fairly dark night last night, wondering if loneliness and isolation could be fatal. It sure feels desperate and horrid and I’m thoroughly sick of it. But then, my darling granddaughter in Sacramento FaceTimed me today and I got to say hello and laugh at her two adorable tots (who are 5 and 2) and hear the latest stories about their antics (like finding a whole jar of vaseline and covering their bodies with it — including hair, bedding, blankets, the dog); it takes serious dish detergent to remove the gooey mess, I learned. Ick. But they all seem happy and healthy and normal, and though my arms ache to hold them and my lips don’t remember what it’s like to kiss loved ones, it was fun to see the fam on my little screen. Sigh. One day at a time. Hope tonight’s dinner is a bit more satisfying. I’ll let you know.

7″ x 10″ watercolor, pen, acrylic ink on paper