For whatever reason, I’ve made it 39 years without painting a chickadee. I don’t know why. I love them. I associate them with my grandmother, who used to feed them out of her bedroom window. She’d put her hand out and they’d hop right in and nibble away at the seeds she offered. When I was a kid, I was pretty sure that meant that she was secretly a Disney princess. So I have a great association with them. And yet…I’d never thought to paint them. Until a couple days ago. I had 4 little 4″ x 4″ canvases that I had planned to use for a painting for Fractured Memories, but then decided against that particular piece, so they’ve been sitting there, all sad-and-mopey-like, just waiting to be slathered in paint. And then, suddenly, a chickadee flew right into my head and smacked me with its beak. Okay, so that last part didn’t really happen, but something triggered the urge to do a painting of one, and, while my students were toiling away at each step that I taught them, I knocked out these 4 little guys, and voila:
Then I remembered that I had a 6″ x 6″ painting that I wasn’t happy with, so I decided to paint over it with another chickadee, and again, voila:
I haven’t decided if they’re for sale yet, or if I want to hang the quartet or the singleton in my house, so they’re not up on my website yet, but I do have prints available on Fine Art America. That being said, if you’re interested in the originals, contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org and I could probably be persuaded to part with them.