Sacred Razzle Dazzle

When we get old we get greyish.

But on the inside our souls get more and more colourful with each passing day.

It is the same with all living things.

Souls aren't like skin - souls can grow to be hot red and shimmering purple or maybe cool green and blazing yellow with a gold inlay.


This is a tree of sparrow souls.  Drab in our world gorgeous when they return to the source of life.

I think of it as sacred razzle dazzle.

Butterbrains 'Helps' Out

There are times when Butterbrains is more active in my life than usual.  She's really trying to help right now.  sigh.

Feed Me! Feed Me! Feed Me!

I'm being held captive by the image of a lactating serpent.

Not only is It lactating, It is producing more milk than the three bird-headed Venus figures can swallow.

And the serpent is aggressively protecting Its nest.


I have the feeling that I'm looking in a mirror.

Secnarf: No Sex Please, We're Canadian Politicians

Secnarf - the only politician who looks like a disgraced former Federal Conservative cabinet minister issued a press release today stating that she is running in the Ontario Provincial election.  I caught up with her in Port Weller this afternoon.

Francie: So Secnarf, this is interesting news.  Let's get right down to business.  What's your platform?

Secnarf: As always I stand for electoral reform, Francie.

Francie: eek.

Secnarf:  Politics should be a calling. 

Francie:  A calling? Like to the priesthood? Are you suggesting celibacy? 

Secnarf:  Absolutely.  

Francie:  That will be popular. Maybe not with politicians but definitely for the rest of us. I haven't slept well since Rob Ford went home to eat. Can we check back next week to see how your campaign is going?

Secnarf: Yes and remember:

Vote for Secnarf, 

the only politician 

who looks like a 

former cabinet 

minister!

#Bring Back Our Girls

Islamist terrorists brutalize girls and women.

I'm trusting that more is going on behind the scenes to bring back the kidnapped Nigerian girls than the polite little televised groups of negotiators presently being deployed to Africa.

I struggle with the thought that these men should be hunted down and killed.

I would rather see them caught and publicly castrated. 

It would be a fitting punishment.

The Insane and the Dead

Since I posted the image of myself with a blind fish on my head I've been wanting to revisit the idea.

I mean I knew it was on my head - but not 100% sure what its job was.

Now that I've had a chance to get another look at the image I can see that it appears on the heads of other people, too.

Who knew!

These three 'fools' think they are free.

But the blind fish, which cannot see or feel, is what keeps them bound to the conventions of their social group.  

It is born of fear.

Its job is to suck up truly creative thoughts, digest them and shit them out as something palatable to society (or their particular sub-culture in society).

Sometimes it seems the only people truly free to explore their creativity are the insane and the dead.

Me and Isaac Together Again

I JUST KNOW you want to see this again!!

It's me and Sir Isaac Brock

as we appeared last June!!!!

Are you SWOONING??

I am. Totally.

And I have good reason!


I JUST FOUND OUT THAT THERE IS ANOTHER LAURA SECORD WALK THIS YEAR!


The things they don't tell you in history class, eh!

Who knew she went twice?!?!

Mind you, if I knew he looked this good I'd be racing through the American lines six times a day.  I'd be taking cows, roosters, guppies - whatever I could get my hands on to get through the Yankee lines.


Sometimes a woman's gotta sacrifice to save her country.

:) :) :)

What's in a Name?

So my ETSY shop is up and running.  Maybe limping or comatose is a better description - but the fact remains that it exists!

But it doesn't have a name.

Okay it is flying (arg, another descriptive verb) under the banner franciemcglynn right know, which as far as find-ability goes might as well be the Welsh word fryfffllgyynbnyffnynnllfgg.

A friend suggested combining francie and art and calling it the 'fartshop'.

I like it but fear it wouldn't attract the gentile clientele I want.

And besides, since I have adopted a gluten free diet it would have to be called the 

'shewhousedtofartbutdoesn'tanymoreshop".

So 

I was wondering about using my blog name and calling it:  northendart.

What do you think???

PS If you haven't investigated the Etsy world you should.  I have only dipped my toe into it but it seems full of wondrous things! 

PPS  fryfffllgyynbnyffnynnllfgg isn't a real live Welsh word.

PPS These are the 2 giclee prints I'm selling

Is There Life After Church?

As Christians watch more and more mainstream churches stagnate or close their doors it appears that some of them aren't prepared to go down with the ship in the traditional patriarchal manner.

Some really good and decent people are trying to grapple with the baffling question of what went wrong by incorporating rock music, multi-media, female pastors etc, etc. into their churches hoping to resurrect a dead horse.

My personal opinion is that we won't really be able to understand Christ's message of peace, compassion and equality until every Christian church is closed.

We need to start again.



In the image the divine feminine has surfaced from the deep waters under the church (symbolized by the fish).  The people in the water would rather drown than accept the milk she provides.

But there is hope - symbolized by the new birth that is happening.





***

Smiling for the Camera

My Dad and I became good friends during his last years but it wasn't always like that.

I was about 5 in this picture and my body language speaks volumes about the dynamics of the relationship.

eek


On a happier note, (I think),  I just got a business licence!

My new business is FRANCIS MCGLYNN ART CO.

(Okay, I'm a Frances not a Francis but I named my business after my beloved grandfather who used to paint pictures of boats on the factory walls when he was on a break.)

I'm going to try to sell prints of a few of my pictures in an online ETSY store so that I can afford to get some of my work framed.

Or that's the plan anyway.


Haahahahahahahahahahaha!


Oh well as my Mom used to say, "Nothing ventured nothing gained!"


I'll keep you posted.

Still Lost in the 50s

This is one of my favourites from my '1950s' series of pictures.

It is from a photo of my 'oldest' friend Jane holding her doll Alice. We've been friends for almost 60 years.

(Me and Jane not me and Alice.)

The Madonna symbolism was not unintentional.  As soon as I cropped the picture I realized what I was looking at and although that imagery is not as important to me as it once was, the large cross standing between the child and the bleak outside world gives the picture a feeling of hope.



"... and, lo, I am with you always, 

even unto the end of the world."

Matthew 28:20

She Who Heals the Sea

I sometimes think the Life Force, (that from which we come and to which we return), is neither good nor bad, male nor female.
 

It just is.  

Eternal but not unchanging.

I suspect that we have the ability to unleash and or harness Its power depending on which of the archetypes, (gods) have control of our collective unconscious.

The dark side of the alpha male archetype has had control for a long, long time. Wars, oil spills, genocide, misogyny, terrorism, soulless corporations and weapons of mass destruction are some of His calling cards.

For thousands of years there has been no strong archetype with the female attributes of birthing, feeding, nourishing and caring for the Earth and everything in it who has been strong enough to defeat evil and harness the positive male characteristics of protecting, building, defending, providing, etc.

But She is afoot.  

Or in this image 'aboat' might be a better term.

Archetypes grow stronger with each prayer, each new convert. It isn't too late.

Spread the word.

***

The Green

Me and my mom in 1955.



The oil pastels help me not to be TOO  anal about details.

They are too clunky to do much more than the basics.


In real life the door actually had windows.


I was surprised to see the windows in the old photograph

because in my memory the green was just

the colour through which I passed daily.



Things like windows and door knobs didn't

make it into my long term memory.


Just green.


Kind of nice, now that I think about it.







.

And the Winner Is!

My Brother, My Sister

The human/animal/spirit beings are going to a new home!

The names went into the cauldron at Mayholme where I do volunteer work!

Then my friend Laurie picked a winner!

Congratulations, Debra!

I'll be in touch!

Victoria Day 1954

This image of my mother and brother from 1954 made me realize how much Canada has changed in 60 years.   We were definitely a British outpost in those days and Victoria Day was the only day we had fireworks.

Somehow or another over the years we, (politely), shed our colonial identity, got our own flag and now celebrate Canada Day with fireworks. 

But we'll never give up our Victoria Day/ 24th of May long week-end!!!

Be like asking us to give up the maple syrup or hockey!


Anyway I'm just not making it to my blog - or yours very often these days.  I'm not sick or depressed or anything like that, just busy doing art & other stuff..


I'm on a semi-temporary leave of absence I guess you'd say... ...

Talk soon!

The Good Little Girl

I'm sure you are all wondering if this angelic child could possibly

be the same little girl who used to execute her Betsey Wetsey Doll.
 

 7thdecadegirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/die-betsy-wetsy-die.html

 

Bwa ha ha.

 

Das Haircut

My father wasn't one to spend money when he didn't absolutely have
to spend money. 

Before my brothers were old enough to care how they looked this
was a common enough scene at our house.

The red in the picture isn't blood.  It just signifies my own alarm
at the predicament of my sweet baby brother.


Fortunately my mother and I went off to the local Merritton Beauty
Parlour which was in those days like going into a private club just
for girls and women. 

No boys allowed!


On the surface the 1950s were so innocent. 


***

My Brother, My Sister

 

I've recently started reading Anne Baring's Book  

The Dream of the Cosmos, A Quest for the Soul.

She speaks of the soul as a cosmic web.

Not something we 'have' rather something we,

(meaning all living things: men, women, animals,

plants, water air, the earth), are a part of.

She says it is an ancient idea that

needs to be resurrected if we are to survive.

The pink blanket behind the two figures

represents that cosmic web of souls. 

The figures are part human, part animal

part spirit.

 

The title of the picture is "My Brother, My Sister".

It is about 20 1/2" by 14

 

AND

 

seeing as I haven't had a contest in awhile

I think I'll have a Valentine's Day Draw.

 

If you would like to be the proud owner of  

this strange, unframed, unmatted sketch

you just have to follow my blog and leave

a comment or tell me how talented I am

on my face book wall.  

(Don't leave it on Google+

as I've never figured it out.)

 

Good luck.

Hope somebody enters.

:)

There's a Blind Fish on My Head

There's a blind fish on my head.
 

Every thought I have is swallowed by the fish

and comes out the other end as words.
 

My words cannot be caught or taken back.

 

Damned old fish.

Little Girlfriends

That's me on the left.

Heather is in the middle and Wendy is on the right.

They lived 2 doors down and were my earliest friends.

As I was working on this picture I started to smell their house.

It smelled friendly and comfortable, like toast.

Other memories of three little girls who were loved and protected

surfaced as I sat at my drawing table.

But I was also aware of the shadow that was looming over us that day.

It got into bed with me later and I tossed and turned for hours reliving ugly

events that I still don't like to think about.

 

In those days divorce was illegal and very rare in Canada.

Their father took his new wife to Ohio in the USA and raised a second

family. 

 

The girls and their mother eventually moved away from Merritton

when I was about 10.

 

It was the beginning of the end of my childhood.