Beverly and I went to San Juan Puerto Rico for vacation, and I asked her to marry me on our first day there. She said “YES!”
My talented daughter Chloë designed and made the ring. The stone is blue topaz, Beverly’s birth stone, and it’s set in a daisy. It was wonderful to have Chloë’s help. I’m honored and touched by her artistry, attention to detail and willingness to help me.
We are very happy! I am a lucky fella!
I love you, Beverly!
“I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness, that which to me, is the only sensible way to love.” ~Françoise Sagan
In 1785, Prince George of Wales fell in love with Maria Fitzherbert, a commoner. Because their love was forbidden, they had miniatures of their eyes painted for one another. They would carry these everywhere so that they could always gaze deeply into them without fear of being caught by the royal family. Even though Prince George was married to someone else, he was buried wearing Maria’s eye painting around his neck. Eye miniatures, or Lover’s Eyes, remained popular through Victorian times. They eventually took on a morbid quality and were worn as mourning jewelry (more on that here).
There’s something very appealing about carrying a part of your Love with you everywhere you go.
I’m participating in a show of eye miniatures in Germany. This diorama is in a vintage eye rinse cup; a beautiful woman as seen in her lover’s eye. The iris is translucent.
For this week’s Illustration Friday prompt, subterranean. Acrylic on illustration board, hastily made.
Or, depending on your point of view:
All Saints’ Day. Day of the Dead. Dia de los Muertos.
I love Halloween and this time of year. Frankly, it goes downhill after daylight savings time until Spring rolls around again, what with the cold and lack of undead peeps about.
The people who we love that pass on never really leave us. I talk to them daily. And today, we remembered those who aren’t physically among us anymore.
Above:
I love you and miss you.
In an act of sublime procrastination, I spent a recent Saturday afternoon building shelves and moving all the CDs from the basement to the studio. See, I could have been writing my final case study for my Quantitative Decision Making class, grading home work, writing lectures, etc. Instead, I strapped on my trusty fish-heads, now in their 8th season, and spent a glorious day sawing wood in the heat.
I have a lot of CDs because I was a wholesale music buyer. That, and meeting the occasional semi-famous person were the perks of the job. The only perks.
The girls helped me unpack them. They are COMPLETELY out of order, and about 200 CDs are missing jewel boxes. We had a great time – I really don’t know how I managed to get by without my Lubricated Goat album.
At the bottom of one of the boxes, I found an envelope from my father. He addressed it to my great aunt in 1984 and never sent it – as we can see, he didn’t have her zip code. I don’t remember putting this envelop in the box – I don’t even remember seeing it (maybe Onespot does – he helped me pack all this up).
It contains drawings, each signed by him and containing a brief explanation of the drawing on the reverse side. I couldn’t believe my eyes – and what’s better, there was a drawing in there that I didn’t remember him doing.
I don’t believe that the people who pass on ever really leave us. And, in a very real way, my father has been popping up a lot lately. I ran across that Picasso quote that I wrote about, and then several of his old friends from his childhood have found me on the web and sent their regards. And now, these drawings.
So, I want to share these drawings with you. Thanks, Pop!
