Last Cigarette

“Last Cigarette”

• Oil on Canvas
• 12″ x 16″
• In private collection

Inspired by another lonely and desolate blues song by Patsy Cline, titled something similar to this. The phone dates the piece. A phone my grandchildren would not recognize as one.
This is a poem I wrote to accompany the painting.

Last Cigarette

You could get along nicely without me, you’d said.
Let’s forget this day ever happened, I replied.
You’d left for one of those long walks
you take when you want nothing close.
I sit in this hazy low lit room
down to my last cigarette,

….waiting.

A Blues Story

One Cigarette in the Ashtray

• Oil on Canvas
• 3 diptychs each 12″ x 18″
• $4500
• Contact the artist.

My husband is a fan of the blues. We’d been to hear k.d. lang singing Patsy Cline tunes while I was working on a series of blues paintings. This three part painting was inspired by one of her cigarette songs.  Cigarettes and depression seem to go hand in hand in blues tunes.

Following is poem inspired by this painting. Feel free to submit your own.

One Cigarette in the Ashtray

Late at night
I comfort a friend
by love abandoned.
We light two cigarettes.

Drinks and stories shared
in smokey haze
coerce my heart into
a lover’s daze.

Suddenly,
two cigarettes in the ashtray
turn to three.

Old love appears
and begs to stay.
I witness metamorphosis
as the heartsick is steered
from sad to gay.

Transformation complete,
a look of thanks
and they’re gone.
I sit alone__
sipping coffee, bittersweet,

one cigarette in the ashtray.

by Nancy Marshall

Flint Hills Revery

Revery in the Hills

• Oil on Canvas
• 22″ x 22″
• In the collection of B/S N

Last night the Kansas City Symphony Orchestra (Symphony in the Flint Hills) played on the Upper Turkey Springs pasture between Florence and Cedar Point, KS. Thousands of us sat among prairie grasses and flowers listening to compositions that complemented the land and sky. The work of composers such as Copeland (the Red Pony), Dvorak (In Nature’s Realm), Bernstein (Theme from the Magnificent Seven), Barry (Dances with Wolves Suite) created a wonder filled evening.

Revery in the Hills is a prairie painting that combines plein air with studio work. The images are meant to evoke sensual romance with the sunlit picnic. This pleasant repast is obviously disturbed but there is also the exhilarating energy that comes with an approaching storm.

To make a prairie it takes a clover
and one bee…
One clover and a bee,
and revery.
The revery alone will do
if bees are few.
Emily Dickinson

Let’s See What Happens

Let's See What Happens

Today Maxx, Naomi and I fed fish in the pond, waded down Rock Creek, balanced on logs and watched a snake sunning. It was exhausting good fun. When Rob returned from taking them home, he gave me a hand drawn heart and said it was from Maxx and Nomi. I’m rewarded.

The picture: As an amateur woodworker, I’ve learned that making frames is no easy task. The beautiful mahogany came from a friend and the glass bead inserts (look hard at the frames’ bottom horizontal) are something I’m experimenting with. Nomi marbled the background paper and she and Maxx added their hand prints. The picture and story, a gift for Anna’s birthday, were inspired by a walk in the woods with Maxx and Nomi.

The story:
Let’s See What Happens.
Not far from their house
Maxx and Naomi follow the river trail
into the dark woods.

“Be still,” whispers Maxx,
A strange clicking noise
is coming from a tree along the path.
“Trees don’t click”, Maxx says,
Naomi points to a colorful
orange, black and white bug.
(Cream Spot Tiger Moth)
“I think that bug is afraid of us” Maxx
says. They decide not to move and
the clicking stops.
(Cream Spot Tiger Moths make a rapid
clicking noise to scare away attackers.)

“I know! Let’s stand here,
listen, watch,
and see what happens” Maxx says.
Naomi agrees.

Before long a fluttering sound
announces a flock of butterflies.
(Cloudless Sulphur Butterfly)
They swirl around Maxx and Naomi.
One lands on Naomi’s pink dress
while others collect on the nearby tree.
Naomi gently lifts the butterfly onto her
finger.

A twig breaks under the hoof of a passing
deer as she leads her fawn to the river to
drink.

A dragonfly darts along the trail, stopping
to hover above Maxx and Naomi’s heads.
Maxx raises his finger
and the dragonfly (Twelve-spot Skimmer) lands.
Maxx and Naomi take a close look at the insect.

A sudden splash makes them jump.
An eagle skims the surface of the river,
and lifts a fish with his talons.

“I have an idea,” Maxx tells Naomi,
“next time, let’s bring our chairs.”

Fairytale Verse for Artichokes and Strawberries

Artichokes and Champagne

• Oil on Canvas
• 12″ x 9″
• In a private collection

A customized “Curlylocks” verse:

Oh love, oh love
Wilt thou be mine?
Thou shalt not wash dishes
Nor yet feed the swine,
But sit on a cushion
of the softest down,
eating artichokes in butter
with nere a frown
And feed upon strawberries
Soaked in champagne,
And know only happiness,
Prosperity and gain.

Beneath the Surface

Beneath the Surface

Detail,  Beneath the Surface

• Oil on Ampersand Gessobord
• 12″ x 36″
• $3900
• Limited Edition Giclée Print on archival paper, 10″ x 30″ image size – $395, plus shipping
• Contact the artist.

This appears to be a sweet still life. There are butterflies, caterpillar, cicada, moths, hummingbirds, 12 spot skimmers, a crane fly, cosmos, pearls, sweets and companionable coffees. But just as Joe Ely points out, there “might be trouble hidin’ round that tree” or something lurking just below the surface.

But everyone brings their own story to a painting. The following haikus were written for this painting.

Beneath the surface
a current swells and then
transcends illusion

by Linda Varberg

The fish darts
into my awareness
and out again.

by Linda Varberg

Flying above, searching
Oh, what appetite
When from below
Surprise with a bite.

by Rob Marshall

I am in awe of
Nature’s wonders, yet I grieve
for their brevity.

by Nancy Marshall

Seeking the nectar of life, discovering.
Partaking of nature’s offerings, fulfilling.
Adding to the all around beauty, enchanting.

by Trish Maher