Under The Hill

Keeping up the practice; I am lucky. I am finding ways to devote more time to painting. I have children, now in their teens, who are becoming independent more and more. They are required to get the bus whenever possible. They can now shop for some of their own food and prepare it if they need to. This has taken some effort since doing it for them can often be quicker and easier (and less messy) but when I see so many parents driving their kids everywhere when we have pretty good public transport I despair.

Another thing. Internet shopping for all the boring, heavy and repetitive goods has helped. Then I top up locally supporting the little independent shops as I need to.

I have in my head what I’m going to do be doing before I do it. I’m thinking about that when doing the mundane or driving (oops). When it comes to painting time I’m ready to go.

So even though I have two jobs, two teens and a husband to administer to I still seem to be fairly productive. I do dream colours though and often wake with ideas in the morning. I also am a firm believer in using the little chunks of time in between other responsibilities to get on and go for it. Having said that I’m an early riser. 5.30am is my friend.

But I’m shattered by the end of the day and go a bit weak at 4pm for a while!!

So recently I have been on a roll. I love hares. I am captivated by their shape and also by the legends behind the hare from Pagan times here but also they feature in legends from all over the world.

The above painting “Under The Hill”   40″ x 30″ in acrylic sold very quickly. I could have sold it a few times. Hares speak to people it seems. I have some nice box canvas prints of it measuring 30″ x 22″ at £140 plus postage. The print quality is exceptional.

Spring Arrives Clare Wassermann copyright

This is for sale – please let me know if you are interested in the comments

I am about to start a third in the series of hares. As I say, keeping in the flow and utilising every tiny chink of time.

It’s not a coincidence that my father used to recite this at home many, many times:

If – By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
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