Seeking the Sublime in the Everyday

 I was about to write about Baseball because it's that time of year but then I heard on Brian Lehrer's show, this amazing phrase; Charismatic Megafauna . Brian was interviewing climate change novelist Lydia Millet.  I've never heard of her before but I'm definitely looking her up. When she dropped this wonderful term Brian, bless him, said, "Wait, what did you say?  What is charismatic megafauna?" Well, charismatic means, "exercising a compelling charm which inspires devotion in others."   I've been drawing animals all my life but this sounds so much more glamorous. I haven't had time to do real research but here's what Wikipedia says. Charismatic megafauna  are animal species that are large—in the relevant category that they represent [1] —with  symbolic value  or widespread popular appeal, and are often used by environmental activists to gain public support for  environmentalist  goals. [2] Examples include  tigers ,  lions ,...

April 6th is the birthday of Charles Burchfeld, (1893-1967) watercolorist and personal favorite of mine.  Just as in the hymn my title comes from, he makes nature sing.  One thing I miss living in the city is the music of the crickets in late summer. When I look at this painting, "Insect Chorus,"  it almost tickles my ears. Here's another favorite. I find everything about dandelions charming-- their sunny yellow mop heads, their delicious greens, their name--Teeth of the Lion.  I love them despite--or maybe because of--their reputation as a weed. Many flowers lose their appeal when they go to seed but that's when the dandelion comes into his glory. I've tried but I can't capture those delicate little seed parasols in pen and ink. Mr. Burchfeld certainly did. Last week I wrote about green and my ambivalence toward lawns. I mean, I like a lawn but I have no interest in having one and I'm not ...

This is one of my favorite creations but I needed a little serendipity to complete it.   First I drew the table without thinking of anything else.  I loved the curve of that leg so I echoed it with the billowing curtain but as I looked at the empty spaces out the window I realized that the piece was going nowhere.  It was background for nothing so I put it away in the flat file. At another time on another piece of paper I drew the pelican and hated the background I gave him so I cut him out, and put him away.   The two pieces lay in obscurity until I decided to clean out the overflowing drawers, making piles of Keep, Throw Away and What Do I Do With This?  The Pelican and the table by the window fell together and Voila! The swell of the pelican’s chest echoes the curtain and the table leg,  the colors in his feathers echo the gray in the sky.  The unexpectedness of his being there rates a double take. Did he just fly in the window? What...