Missing Ants!

When I was a child we lived on a farm in southern Minnesota. My grandmother, Rose, lived with us and had a magnificent perennial garden, despite the harsh Minnesota winters & the occasional escaping livestock stampede. She grew rows of peonies. Lovely nodding heavy headed ant covered peonies. I used to crawl under them and look back at the rest of the yard and my house through the back lit blossoms, some which were as big as luncheon plates. I was always fascinated by the teams of ants, gobbling up the nectar on the buds. Once the flowers opened, the ants as if by magic, disappeared. I would try and figure out where they went but never was able to solve the mystery. It was if they were summoned by some secret signal and then equally as mysteriously "returned to base". We lived a very"organic" life (not intentionally in those days) and I was always admonished very sternly to leave the ants to their work. If I was lucky I would be allowed to pick lush bouquets of the red, pink and white beauties filling vases for our dining room table. The ants would scramble off as best they could and invariably let lose in the house...marching straight out the door. When I look at this wonderful John Traynor I am transported back to sunny late spring in Minnesota, I can smell the garden and in my minds eye see the adorable little ants, going round & round the tight peony buds. Now that I live in Florida, the only peonies I see come from Peru and are in the grocery and of course, are ant free. Traynor's peonies are simply stunning and so faithfully rendered I find my self searching the gallery for ants! You can see the John Traynor Peonies at M Gallery 16 S Palm in Sarasota or by followinng the link below to www.mgalleryoffineart.com.

http://www.mgalleryoffineart.com/masterpiece/title.php?ititlenum=12681

It's a little after 3 am and unfortunately I am up and unable to sleep. One of our cats, Mr Pong has gone missing and our other cat Miss Ping (they are Siamese of course) is calling for him. Loudly. The only up side to all this is when I ventured out to join her and call for him (again) the early morning air is warm and delicious as only Florida can be this time of year. The moon is cloud chased and Deborah Paris' faithful renderings of Florida were summoned out of my sleepy brain. Many of her paintings, luminous wonders that they are, fall in the foot steps of Heade, Innes, Homer, Sargent. She understands the gift of this detached bit of the African continent and its unique ecosystem. When I look at her paintings I am delighted by the way she holds dear the nutrient rich air which nourishes so well plants here can exist with no soil. Florida contains large tracts of very wild land surrounded by bounced light and water. Luminosity abounds. Miss Paris, the queen of contemporary luminous painters, has captured it for all of us to enjoy. She arrives this week at M Gallery with around 20 works for a major show. Stop by and enjoy them with us. The opening is from 6 to 9 Friday February 5 at 16 S Palm in Sarasota FL. Crystal will also post the entire show on-line and on Facebook. Now, back to look for my cat. Oh Mr Pong....

Sadie Valeri's wax paper master works shimmer, shine, glow...their quiet exquisiteness reveals the beauty in the moment of the simplest of things: common household wrap. Her paintings are complete zen-like moments; each one reveals her mastery as a painter, communicates the wisdom of the ancient teachers guiding her hands and mind. It is so obvious her level of concentration pulls her into a space where no words or superfluous thoughts exist. She has such a direct line from her eye through her hand by-passing her conscious thought. Like Einstein she becomes the wax paper, she becomes the brush, she becomes the pigment, she becomes the light. And, like all great painters, once she becomes the light, her work becomes eternal & everlasting, images burned forever in her soul and our minds. A holy place out of Franciscan like simplicity. Ah, truth! Sadie Valeri's work can be seen at M Gallery of Fine Art in Sarasota FL or by clicking this link: http://www.mgalleryoffineart.com/masterpiece/title.php?titlenum=12371

Warning! Gypsies!

Oh man what a goofy world. I received an email from the Venice Golf & Country Club Master Association where I own a rental home warning me there were Gypsies in the neighborhood breaking into houses. I kid you not: they actually said "Gypsies". And when I asked them what they possibly meant since I was a bit incredulous that there were genuine Romas rummaging around the Venice Golf and Country Club (Although, admittedly Venice is where the 9/11 terrorists learned to fly & home to many a crystal meth dealer), the reply I received from the Master Association was less than cordial. Now, I don't know if any of you have ever been accosted in Europe by a band of true Roma Gypsies, but had you ever had that happen you would have a great deal of trouble imagining them sauntering past the guard gate at good old VG&CC. I mean it is hard to image them blending in with all that bad plaid and being mistaken for one of the ancient geezers careening around in his golf cart thoroughly inebriated by 6 pm after a rousing game of canasta at the club. Gypsies indeed. The best part was the Association said they were pretending to represent a church, knocking on doors, asking for donations, & when finding no one home, going round the back, breaking & entering and robbing the joint. Well, I would maybe believe Gypsies would lure some of the old ladies at bridge into a tarot reading in which their dearly departed came back and apologized for all the times they actually had the temerity to ask for affection or to be cooked a meal (these ladies not only don't kiss anybody, all they know how to make is reservations) but representing a church? No Roma I ever encountered would stoop that low. Whew. It is a good thing Clayton Beck painted this adorable painting so I can send it off to the guard house as a reference next time the Bible beating robbers swing by so they realize A. they are not Gypsies and B. to call the cops. I mean really. This is a crazy world. And, the week before Christmas....

Molly's Roses

When we lived in our previous house down in Venice the woman who lived behind us went a bit batty and one day snapped all the heads of my roses as she walked by as my recompense for talking out side during the day in my lanai on my cell phone. I think she must have had her hearing aid turned way too loud, for she lived quite a distance across a pond and I am not all that loud. Nonetheless it made her mad and in a fit of pique she shuffled over in her walker and beheaded my roses, just like the unhappy Queen in Alice in Wonderland. It apparently took the stuffing right out of her and not to long after she was packed off to a “residential treatment facility”, (what as kids we called the looney bin). One thing is clear is that the roses’ beauty was not to be tolerated in her increasingly ugly world, any more than my happy prattling to friends, family & co-workers. Molly Schmid’s roses, laid so casually with their ribbon are like my happy conversations on the lanai…without consciousness and seeming eternal, certainly fresh and happy. When the ugly demons possessed my neighbor’s brain, they would have none of either, snapping off any head daring to smile out of its fox hole. When I look at Molly’s roses I find them quite enchanting and the buds, as they unfold very charming. I think of my neighbor, wonder if she is still alive, hoping, if she is, that her tolerance for grace & beauty has returned. Molly’s Roses are on the wall at www.Mgalleryoffineart.com.

Do you ever have those days where you feel perhaps you arrived in the wrong place, wearing the wrong clothes, thinking the wrong thoughts, having the wrong assumptions and it all turned out to be ridiculously right? Or at least perfect for the occasion? I have those days fairly often...It is as if the universe is telling me...as my children say...to "chillax". When I look at Oleg Radnov's Lady Plumber I am reminded of those times in my life - oh so wrong yet - oh so right. She is hanging at M Gallery of Fine Art along with several other of his magnificent paintings...

Russel Gordon's St Sebastian Mannequin is the original don't ask don't tell military man. An officer in the Roman Army Sebastian was found to be a practising Christian and was ordered executed by arrows...After his execution proved less than fatal, was healed back to health by St. Irene who rescued him by torch light from a cave and stitched him back together. He is a patron saint for soldiers, policemen, athletes & gay men. All of Gordon's work like any competent renaissance era painter is filled with symbolism & irony. He is having a wonderful one man show this Friday at M Gallery and bringing a number of new works. I can't wait. Maggie