Belle Belle

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Here is a quick sketch of our other cat Belle Belle. She is sitting on our bed with her back to me (as she will often do), content as can be. She is such as sweet cat who talks a lot when she wants attention and wants someone to love on her.
This is the first sketch I’ve done of her and plan on doing more; maybe some paints as well…Stella can’t get of the fame!

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Pouring Rain

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The skies are pale with pouring rain,

they drown my conscience with piercing pain

endless flight their cries they sing; with no place to go to avoid their sting

warmth I seek to escape it’s chill and hide the void that I can not fill

with arms clasped my heart grows damp; searching for a source to light my lamp

while waiting for the calm that will not come;

I’m shaken by the thunder beating like a drum

my mind is soaked and wrenched with its grip;  I hold onto my soul and vow not to quit

so tired and numb to know it has won, it starts to subside and is almost done

standing here now slumped, cold and alone; I’ve lost the fight;

I struggle to hold on with all my might

with nothing else left but to accept its rein; I give it all to Him and He removes my pain

The skies are pale with pouring rain; all will be well, now that I’ve called His name.

Winters Return

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The source for life is a blinding beacon

but it’s warmth makes little impression.

Autumn leaves have turned to brown and have left their home,

only to find they are not alone in their death.

The air is crisp and clear; with vibrations of chills that steal our comfort.

The days grow shorter, rest and solitude becomes the anthem of the season.

Nature carries out it’s daily duties with the same vibrant zest and determination.

Echoes of tiny voices chirping fill the air with exuberant conversation.

Evenings approach is but moments away when silence summons the attention of all.

Darkness looms ever so near and captures the moon for its arrival to the cold damp night.

The stars soar in and out of the clouds as they hurry off to foreign lands,

Winter has seized the moment.

Aspens

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16″x20″ Acrylic Painting on Canvas

Well, I have been working on my home remodeling project that I started back in September; at the moment I’m installing subfloors in the dining room and living room. I hope to be hanging sheet rock by the end of the month. It’s killing me that I can’t paint like l would like too. But that being said, art is never far away!

During this break from painting I have been working on some poems that I will share over the next coming weeks.  It was nice to explore another passion of mine that I have tucked away deep down inside me. It fun and easy when the weather keeps me from doing the work I need to do…like building a house.

We have had some snow days of late so I took advantage of the free time to lay down some paint. I was able to find a 16″x20″ canvas that I had not packed away and started sketching some trees on it. I had packed away me paints (big mistake) so I had to run to the store and pick me up a small set of acrylic paint. I happen to not pack me brushes away, so I was good on that front.

The setting for this painting is aspen trees high in the mountains overlooking some somewhat  dark surreal mountains to the west. I wanted the painting to be whimsical and alive. I painted the mountains in such a way that it pulls your eyes through the trees and beyond.  I hope I pulled it off? Whether I did or not I still love it and enjoyed painting it; I hope you enjoy it as well.

Perched Wren

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Perched Wren

 

Painting: Perched Wren

Date: July 2, 2013

Medium: Oil on canvas board

Size: 8″ x  10″

Artist: bradley wayne hall

Comments:  Found this little guy online and did a sketch of him on my canvas board and went at it.  It took me two days to finish, I worked on it about an hour each day and love the way the background turned out.  It has a little bit of texture to it, but not too much.  The wren itself has almost no texture, which could have been done better.  I found myself over working some of the colors too much.  Over all I like the way it turned out.

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