Art

“EULOGY”


“Black Elk,” watercolor painting by kayti sweetland rasmussen “Eulogy” by Sherman Alexie My mother was a dictionary, She was one of the last fluent speakers of our tribal language. She knew dozens of words that no one else knew. When she died, we buried all those words with her. My mother was a dictionary. She […]

HAIR OF THE DOG


It is no laughing matter. We have hosted many varieties of canine throughout our nearly 71 years of wedded bliss, during which time I have been more or less on top of the cleaning game. The Health Department has never visited our home with poor housekeeping complaints in hand. However, we have been “done in” […]

OUR MOTHERS


“PERSEVERENCE” watercolor by kayti sweetland rasmussen Just as the tiny tree in this painting struggles through rocky soil to reach its independence and achieve its potential, we too struggled to loose the loving bonds of our mothers. We spread our wings and announced to the world at large “Look! We have listened; we have learned; […]

ANYONE WOULD KNOW


NUMBER 004, watercolor by kayti sweetland rasmussen Well, it’s apparent that we all see things differently. Many of you readers know that I am a retired sculptor, art teacher, who also painted for most of my long life. I have never been a landscape painter, nor has the sight of a perfect hillside set my […]

LADY IN THE MIST


Lady in the Mist Amazing who jumps out of the mist when you aren’t looking! Now trying new paths in paint, I find it disturbing to sit and stare at a piece of paper wondering just what I will paint. After several days of abstraction and distraction, it occurred to me that what I am […]

OPENING LOCKED DOORS


Would I have stopped painting six years ago if I had known that one day the pleasure I had known all of my life would hide behind a locked door? It seemed as if I were blindsided that year; a year during which I not only received a new shoulder, but they also removed all […]

A FAMILY AFFAIR


Cover photo by N.C. Wyeth “To Billy From Grandma” is written inside the old book. It brings back a memory of a musty old bookshop in San Francisco. I had stepped from the bright sunlight into the dimly lighted confines of what might become a pleasant hour of book-looking pleasure. When I picked up the […]