the molten hour

this was monday turning into slush.

this was sunday melting into monday. back to the skateway. moonrise eventually lost to overcast.
that and a few more grand/bridgeport acrylic underpaintings.

hit and miss

this was tonight. plus five degrees and you can stay out forever. got to parliament hill and to the champlain monument. hit and miss. lost the darks in the last one.
got "shot at dawn" up and running today: www.marcbrz.blogspot.com

this was friday -- saturday by the time i started painting. back to the skateway. finally cracked off a couple good ones. tonight was almost balmy at only 11 below zero. next thing is to paint the bridges.

back to the canal for the third panel at the top of the skateway. a bit of studio work: a sketch of luc for his sixth birthday (from a photo).
they got me the wrong box of records from the national archives. in the meantime, found a photo of harold lodge on line. the newspaper clipping said he died in action. in actual fact he had been executed for desertion by the canadian army. here's the link:
http://www.vac-acc.gc.ca/remembers/sub.cfm?source=collections/virtualmem/photos&casualty=466564





















here's the triptych

the rebirth of cold

this was an hour ago. one cold view from the champlain monument. there's a flat top pedestal at the base. that's where i sat to work. sharing the view with nothing but the windchill. feels like minus thirty. eight layers on the top, three everywhere else. i can barely move about but i don't get cold. long live the team!

the canal was mine

this was tonight. felt like minus 28. back to the canal for three and a half hours of burning cold. the ice was pristine. the place was mine alone. fortified coffee and smoke keeps the cold from the bone. more panels. more underpaintings.


more bad news. meet the new boss, same as the old boss: http://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2009/02/bad-bank-assets-proposal-worse-than-you.html
almost one hundred years past the start of the first one and we are at the gates of the third world war. the memorial nervously awaits the chisel.