Some New Rhinos

Since the quarantine I've been spending a lot of time in my home studio, and I got infected with the Kondo virus--you know--"The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up."  It's not a bad exercise when done in moderation.
 You know all those annoying little things around the house that you look at and think, "I ought to fix that..." and never think about and a few years go by? I've been taking care of them, and it's SO satisfying!
Several trips to the hardware store and a visit from the handyman-I guess he's an essential worker.  His name is Angel and he lives up to it. I'm feeling so proud that when I wake up in the middle of the night I come in here and just look.
Then I went through my flat files and sorted all my drawings into categories--I even made labels for each drawer; I found several pieces that I'd abandoned as hopeless and thought, "Hmmm, this is really not so bad; I think I can do something with this."

One of those is Rhino and the Little Ballerina.  I never hated it, in fact,

it's on my website, in the Rhino Gallery, but I looked at it and decided to give it a night sky.
I think it's an improvement--the black makes the building and the figures pop.  What do you think? Did I do the right thing or did I wreck it?

I found this one,

of my rhino standing on Pont Alexandre III, gazing at Aristide Maillol's "The River." I wasn't sure about this when I finished it but now that I look at again I'm glad I didn't throw it away.

Some pieces never give me a moment's doubt--this one,

"The Rhino at a Model of the Louvre in Medieval Times"

 practically drew itself, at least that's how I remember it.  It's unusual for me because there's so much white space

I had a good time placing the gorgeous rhino from the Plaza of Musee D'Orsay in different scenes around Paris.

I also found this old friend,

a portrait of a Bald Eagle, from my early days at Trinity. Some said it looked like a person we all knew and loved but I'll never tell who that was. To my old Trinity pals--what do you think?

Then there were these cows.  I thought I'd write a story but never got around to it.
Their names are Elizabeth and Jessica and they hate it when the farmer calls them Bessie and Jessie.

This is "In the Pasture."

This is "In the Barn". I keep forgetting to finish the Barn Owl's nest with three eggs, in the upper right hand corner.

I was speaking on Zoom this morning with a bunch of artist friends and one of them said,
"I had so many plans for the quarantine; I was going to exercise, I was going to paint every day, and I haven't done a thing."  And then she went on to list a whole raft of new ideas and online techniques she had tried and things she had accomplished.
This is such a weird time-for some of us, staying in, for others, going out and risking their lives.
Here's a poem to address all this.