Ella Fitzgerald Version 2

My second choice for an illustration for a piece on Ella Fitzgerald.

Billie Holiday 3rd version

The third version of my Billie Holiday piece

Edith Wright and Jo Stafford together

Two great jazz singers, Jo Stafford and Edith Wright, melded into one voice.

Savannah Churchill 2nd version

This is the second version of the Savannah Churchill piece.

Betty Hutton 2nd version

This is the alternate version for the Betty Hutton piece I created.

Ethel Waters version 2

This is the back up illustration for my Ethel Waters piece.

Beginning a new series

I started a new series on my other blog sight called The Lives of Dead Jazz Singers. It is a series about female jazz singers. The sight is called the power of h.

Our Lady of Fire

I created this piece under the influence of Leonard Cohen. He had written a song called Joan of Arc and I was struck by a line about Joan – ‘If he was fire, then she must be wood.” Cohen is a riveting character.

mischief and permanent bliss.

I ran across this exciting sight run by a young lady named Cathey in Texas. Its called mischief and permanent bliss. Her sight is packed with offbeat material, everything from skateboarding to Picasso. Go to the sight. You’ll fall in love with this young lady’s enthusiasm.

She describes herself as ‘Thirty-something office peon by day but writer and artist at heart. Mom to an amazing little boy. Stuck in South Texas but loves to travel. Mac lover. Soccer and martial arts fiend. Dog lover. Photography addict. Fascinated by languages. Lover of anything unconventional, activist, global, and silly. Writing and music keep me sane more than anyone can imagine…‘

The Lonesome Thoughts of Bob Dylan…

When I was in college at the University of Windsor a friend of mine invited me to a party in Detroit. I declined. I’d had problems crossing the border. They thought I was a slug. My hair was too long. Or I was the wrong sex. He went. There was a bunch of people in the room. Smoking dope. Listening to loud music. Eating blocks of ice cream. One of the guests was Bob Dylan. He sat in the corner. Talking to no one. His head bowed. Lost in some thought. My friend said Dylan was like that all evening. And I couldn’t lose the impression of Dylan in a world by himself. His mind, drifting.