The Butterfly Carpet Murders, the latest addition to my Bella Sarver Mystery series, is now available on Amazon.com.
It’s been a long two years and the pandemic isn’t over yet, but it’s finally under control, thanks to vaccines, masks, and treatment options. Bella Sarver and her husband, Art Halperin, are thrilled to be able to travel once more. They’ve been so looking forward to visiting the UK, particularly, the Scottish Highlands, home to so much beauty and fascinating history. True to expectations, the Highlands are indeed beautiful, but they’re also filled with ghosts from the past, ghosts that insist on intruding into the present. When one of their fellow tourists meets with an accident, Bella wonders – was it an accident? Or something more sinister? Could it really be the curse of the butterfly carpet?
Though Art is leery of his wife getting involved with the case, Bella can’t help herself. She just has to figure out ‘who dunnit?’ Doesn’t she?
Bella Sarver is back! My husband and I visited Scotland last year and were fascinated by its beauty and especially, its long and complex history. Wouldn’t this make a wonderful setting for a new Bella Sarver mystery, I asked myself. The answer was ‘Yes, absolutely, ‘ so I got to work, and the result is The Butterfly Carpet Murders, to be released on December 14th, when it will be available on Amazon.com. Watch for the announcement!
It’s been a long two years and the pandemic isn’t over yet, but it’s finally under control, thanks to vaccines, masks, and treatment options. Bella Sarver and her husband, Art Halperin, are thrilled to be able to travel once more. They’ve been so looking forward to visiting the UK, particularly, the Scottish Highlands, home to so much beauty and fascinating history. True to expectations, the Highlands are indeed beautiful, but they’re also filled with ghosts from the past, ghosts that insist on intruding into the present. When one of their fellow tourists meets with an accident, Bella wonders – was it an accident? Or something more sinister? Could it really be the curse of the butterfly carpet?
Though Art is leery of his wife getting involved with the case, Bella can’t help herself. She just has to figure out ‘who dunnit?’ Doesn’t she?
The pandemic affected all of us–young, old and in-between–in various ways, but I don’t think anyone was left unharmed. The most painful effect I experienced (besides contracting Covid. Twice.) was being deprived of my accustomed, almost daily, contact with fellow artists and writers. I always knew I valued those relationships, but I hadn’t realized how important they were to me until I wasn’t free to experience them anymore. One of the things that kept me sane (?) was watching episodes of Death in Paradise, not so much for the characters and plots but for the gorgeous, inspiring scenery. The beautiful, if fictional, Caribbean island of Ste. Marie reminded me that there was still life out there, and I’d get to see it again someday. So what better title for my recently completed paintings than “Paradise Found” and “Paradise Afternoon?” I hope you enjoy them.
Artists are often advised to present a consistent body of work to the public, for very good reason. If you’ve developed a following, you owe it to your “fans” to give them what they expect. But as an artist, this is easier to say than to do. Creative people naturally want and need to experiment with various art forms, different media, interesting techniques. Even if you absolutely love abstractions, as I do, there’s nothing to stop you from also loving detailed landscapes and intricate still lifes.
When I exhibit, I make sure to maintain consistency. But in my own studio, anything goes. Here are two of my latest efforts, one completely abstract, with lots of texture and one in which I tried to capture the misty chill of a Scottish Highland stream.
Seas A-Rising, Acrylic, 20 x 16Scottish Highlands, Acrylic, 16 x 12
Maybe you’ve noticed–I love color. I love how different colors play off each other, sometimes soft and soothing (analogous colors), sometimes bright and jarring (complimentary colors). I often combine my colors with various mediums to create texture on the canvas, too. But for “Sculpture in Gray,” I decided to try something different. To begin, I just glopped on a pile of black and white paint loosely mixed with fiber paste and started spreading it around with a large palette knife. The painting sort of took off on its own from there. I glopped on more paint, dribbled on some silver, sprinkled a little glitter and–voila!
At first glance, you might think it’s just a gray painting, but as you look at it, you notice the swirls and layers, the shadows and lights, and you begin to lose yourself in the richness of the painting. I’ve been studying it in my studio for about a month now, wondering if I need to add any of my signature colors or maybe some defined shapes. But I’ve decided I love it just the way it is. Minimalism has certainly been around since at least mid-twentieth century, but now I find myself appreciating it much more deeply than I ever have before.
Sometimes we all need a little inspiration, a little push to get us going again. The world is so full of colors, you’d think you’d never run out of ideas, but sometimes–you do. So I was thrilled to be able to spend time at MOMA last week, to see their special exhibit, Matisse’s Red Studio. I just love his spare shapes, bright colors, and the way he puts these elements together to create a mood and to tell a story. I wandered the galleries, trying to take it all in, and when I left, a couple of hours later, I really felt refreshed, and ready to get started in my own studio again.
I just finished an interesting piece, which I’m calling What’s Your Hurry? I thought about adding to it, giving it some embellishment, but then I decided I like it exactly as is. What do you think?
When I researched and wrote Riva’s Journey: a Memoir (KDP, 2021), I never thought that the places and people I wrote about would become the topic of today’s headlines. Reading the latest news about Kyiv and Tarnipol and Lviv brings back pictures of the places my grandmother left more than 100 years ago. The spellings may be a bit different now, but the places are the same.
Ukraine has had an extraordinarily difficult history, situated as it is between Poland and Russia, which have fought over this land for centuries. My heart goes out to the Ukrainian people, who are continuing their struggle to claim their own space in the world. My grandmother would have been proud of them.
I love working in a small, 12 x 12 format. It forces me to really think about what I want my painting to say, because the small space doesn’t lend itself to a lot of miscellaneous flourishes. Here are a few pieces I’ve done in the past few months. By the way, Facebook has somehow removed my page (and no–I haven’t been posting anything horrible!), and I’ve decided to just let it go, so if you have a comment, please post it here on WordPress, or just contact me directly. The pieces here are all 12 x 12, Acrylic and mixed media, framed and ready for display.
Special Offer, 1 week only – September 1 to September 8
Take advantage of the Kindle Countdown deal to purchase A Wonderful Good Morning at a discount price, only on Amazon. A Wonderful Good Morning is a mystery with a bit of science fiction thrown in. If you enjoyed Groundhog Day, you’ll love A Wonderful Good Morning.
Sometimes every day seems just like the one before. Sometimes, it really is the day before.
Strange things have been happening to Tim for a while now. Lately, his friends have learned to treat him very gently until he comes out of one of his spells. His girlfriend, Natalie, decides a Rhine River cruise will be just what the two of them need to get things back to normal, but at the last minute, Tim is left to sail on his own. That’s when things get really weird. While he stares, yet again, at the very same clumps of algae in the very same stretch of the Rhine he’s been looking at for days, something finally clicks. Now the only problem is – how to fix it.
Meanwhile, Natalie and her artist friends back in Chicago wonder why Tim hasn’t returned from his vacation and why he doesn’t answer his phone. It’s not like him to just disappear; he’s normally super responsible. They have no choice but to set off for Europe to find out what’s going on.
What do you think of when you hear the words “Science Fiction?” I tend to think of things like space ships, little green men, and robots. Yet my new novel, A Wonderful Good Morning, contains none of those things. So why is it classified as “Science Fiction?”
The problem is that every book needs to fit into a genre, a known category, in order to be marketable. But how do you classify a novel that doesn’t really fit into any of the standard genres? I wish I had the answer to that question.
A Wonderful Good Morning is about climate change. It’s also a mystery story involving travel and art and even a little romance. So why call it “Science Fiction?” Well, because in writing about climate change, I took what’s known about some aspects of our warming planet and created a story that’s grounded in reality but then takes off into a world of my own imagination. I suppose I could have called it “Fantasy,” but that word brings complications, also. It conjures up images of shape-shifting creatures and witches and demons, which doesn’t describe my book any better than the words “Science Fiction” do.
So if you think of a more apt genre with which to classify A Wonderful Good Morning, I’d love to hear your suggestion.
The title is available as a paperback and as an e-book on Amazon.com. Click here to purchase a copy.
Hope Rising, Inspiration, and Welcome, Mixed Media, 12 x 12
My paintings and designs have been taking a whimsical turn for a while now, using a variety of different paints and applicators. Here I’ve used the marvelous Golden Fluid Acrylics, plus a variety of paint markers, to see what would happen if I just let ‘the spirit move me.’ My three most recent results say go with the flow and enjoy! Framed very simply, & ready to brighten up a corner of your room.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
I can only imagine what my grandmother felt when she first saw Lady Liberty as her ship entered New York Harbor on a spring day in1920. I don’t know if she ever read Emma Lazarus’ words; she couldn’t read English yet, although she was fluent in Yiddish, Polish, and German. But whether or not she ever read these words, she felt them every time she was confronted with anything marvelous and new in her adopted, much-loved, country. “Ay, America!” she’d exclaim, with wonder and appreciation.
Immigrants have very seldom been given the welcome promised by the words inscribed on the Statue of Liberty. Each new wave of people has been greeted by prejudice and suspicion, admitted grudgingly. And each new wave of immigrants has contributed mightily to this country. Every person in the United States today is an immigrant, unless they’re descended from Native Americans. Yet as each group of people arrives, many of those who came earlier forget that their ancestors or they themselves were once in need of a safe harbor—safe from wars, poverty, tyranny. Lots of us remember, though, as we must. Maybe someday we can make Ms. Lazarus’ words a fact for everyone who still looks to America as a beacon of light to the future.
As I work on revising and polishing, Riva’s Journey, my Grandma’s story of leaving Europe to make a new life for herself and her children in America, I gain fresh appreciation of her incredible courage and determination. America didn’t exactly welcome her, but they let her in.
As with most other aspects of life, there are both pros and cons to publishing your books independently. On the one hand, you have total control of your work, from start to finish. On the other hand, you have to take total control of your work, from start to finish. That means writing, editing, designing the cover, designing the content’s appearance, and–this is a big one–marketing. You can out-source some of these steps if you’re willing to pay for the services, but ultimately the trajectory of what happens to your book after you put it out there is totally up to you, the author.
I published my first novel in the Bella Sarver Mystery series, Painting Lessons, in in 2016. This was followed in subsequent years by Brush With Death, Paint a Murder, and Death on the Danube. Along the way, I’ve learned a lot about all aspects of writing and producing a novel, and I’ve been enjoying the process. It’s fun getting my sales reports from Amazon each quarter, and noting that my books have found readers around the world, including Japan. But it would be fun to see my books on the shelves of major booksellers around the country, too, and that won’t happen unless I go the traditional publisher route. So my plan for 2021 is to see if I can find an agent for the novel I’ve just completed to help me make that happen.
Researching agents is a tedious task and almost more work than actually writing the novel in the first place, but I’ve got my list ready and I’ll start querying everyone on it this coming week. We’ll see how it goes.
Happy New Year to all my readers. Stay safe and healthy. There’s help on the way.
I bought this Turkish coffee pot in Istanbul years ago, in a little bazaar filled with rugs and leather jackets and the aroma of exotic spices. Today seemed like a good day to put it into a painting, using autumn tones but hopeful little flowers to help us get through the winter that’s almost upon us. When Spring comes again, we can hope that most of us will have been vaccinated, and we can begin to emerge into the light again.
I like to read Heidi Stevens’ column in the Chicago Tribune she titles “Balancing Act.” She writes about the difficulty of managing to make good parenting decisions, pursue a career as a journalist, and balance both of those major areas with the rest of her life. I totally sympathize with her problem, as I’m sure most of us can.
No matter what I’m doing, I always feel like I should really be doing something else. If I’m writing, I should be painting. If I’m painting, I should be practicing the piano. If I’m practicing the piano, I should be working on my book. Of course, this doesn’t even begin to touch on the rest of my life as a wife, mother, grandmother, friend, citizen, etc. I suppose this is a good thing. Still, maybe it would be nice to just sit back and relax in front of the TV once in a while?
Or–maybe not. There’s nothing much on TV, and anyway, at least life lived as an endless teeter-totter isn’t boring!
A definition of “whimsy” is “playfully quaint or fanciful.” I think that aptly describes this collection of small paintings, on display at the Lisle Library now through the end of January. I’ve been having a great time creating them, using the simplest objects around the house or just my imagination as the starting point for designing the various bright and colorful compositions.
The Lisle Library, 777 Front Street, Lisle, will be hosting a reception on Saturday, December 7th, from 2 to 3:30 pm. Refreshments will be offered. So mark your calendars and hope to see many of you there.
Writing can be a lonely activity, so it helps a lot to have a community to share ideas and tips with. I’ve been lucky enough to have found The Writing Journey, a group of fellow writers, some years ago when I was just getting started writing my Bella Sarver Mystery novels. I don’t think I’d have had the courage to publish my books if it hadn’t been for this group. So you might want to click on this link and take a look at some of the work some of my fellow authors have been doing lately. There are some really excellent suggestions for holiday gifts.
If you’ve been following my posts for the past couple of years, you’ll have noticed that most of my paintings have been fairly abstract in design. I’ve fallen in love with putting together various shapes and colors into vibrant compositions. But, having been inspired by a recent trip to Iceland, land of fjords and volcanic mountains and waterfalls, I was tempted to start making representational paintings once again. With this painting, Fjord, I tried to capture the power of the water rushing down from the glaciers over the rocks below. Although this painting is an exercise in realism, there are definitely abstract elements involved, so the painting combines both genres in one. If it’s successful.
I’m so excited to have been invited to participate in a book signing event at Barnes & Noble’s new store in downtown Naperville. I’ll have copies of all five of my Bella Sarver mystery novels available for purchase, including the latest, The Butterfly Carpet Murders, and I’m so looking forward to meeting with and discussing the books with my readers. Bella Sarver is an artist and teacher who lives in a fictional Chicago Suburb called Deer Creek. She loves to participate in community events and to travel in Europe. She certainly doesn’t plan it, but wherever she goes, she somehow becomes involved with people getting themselves murdered, and is able to use her artist’s expertise to figure out ‘who dunnit.”
I actually hate the term ‘cozy mysteries,’ which is, unfortunately, the designation given to the genre my books fall into. It seems to impart a certain flightiness or shallowness to the work. But when I really think about it, if that term puts my Bella Sarver in company with such as Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple or Lord Peter Wimsey, well– who am I to complain?
I actually thought of the title for this painting before I began painting it. It came to me while I was reflecting (for a change) on the many disastrous decisions being made at the White House these past 3 months. Qui Bono? Who benefits? Well – certainly nobody I know.
I could paint pretty landscapes or appealing still lifes. Not terribly challenging anymore, but still fun to do. I could do portraits. Somewhat more interesting, but they still don’t fit the bill. But abstracts, yes! Slapping paint on a canvas, red and angry! Free-form, flowing! Yes – that does the job.
Qui bono? I don’t know, but I hope you find my painting interesting to look at and think about.
Love the Caribbean, especially when it’s cold and snowing at home and I’m enjoying the warmth and sunshine and the flora and fauna of a beautiful Caribbean island. Did you ever have a macaw eat out of your hand while iguanas chased each other across the landscape? Heaven!
So–to bring a little taste of that back home, here’s Caribbe! 16 x 20, Acrylic.
This ‘n’ That – An anthology of short stories and drawings’
I’m very excited to announce that my collection of short stories, poems and whimsical drawings is now available on Amazon, in a paperback edition. Some of the stories will make you laugh, some will make you cry. I hope all of them will make you feel … feel something lovely. I certainly enjoyed throwing myself into writing them. I’d love to hear what you think, so please–don’t forget to leave a review on Amazon after you’ve read the book.
Given the events of the past two weeks, this pretty much expresses my feelings. Even though it represents total chaos, I still think my painting has balance of design and color, so it’s not completely chaotic, not yet anyway. But as for the future, ….?
I was tempted to just smear on paint at random, but being an artist, I couldn’t leave it at that, so although this small painting has lots of texture and random marks, I still took the time to judge the need for color complements, focal points, and other compositional elements.
Having gotten the initial impulse out of my system, I’ve just begun another rendition, so I guess the idea of chaos has served me well, in the short term at least, because I broke through my ‘painter’s block’ and am working again, after a hiatus. Feels good. Hope you like the results.
We just recently celebrated the holiday of Chanukah, and one of the songs associated with this holiday is Ocho Kandelikas (Eight Candles), a reference to the number of candles lit during the holiday, one for each of 8 nights. This song is written in Ladino, a Spanish-Hebrew language originally spoken by the Jews of Iberia.
While walking around the studio, humming this song, my paint brushes decided to transform the canvas I was working on into an homage to ocho kandelikas, so here it is. I love creating abstract designs, letting the colors flow, adding highlights where they need to be. Plenty of texture, too, though that doesn’t come through well in the photo. But you can find 8 candles there, if you look carefully.
While walking through the woods near home the other day, I got to thinking about how freezing cold it was, and about the trees. Have you ever wondered about trees? What they’re thinking? What they’re feeling? Here’s my take on it. I’m including one of my pastel paintings to help illustrate it.
Winter
Empty, gray sky. And cold. Very cold. I know the sun is out there someplace, but it gives no warmth. I’m standing alone, unprotected, yet … the sap shivers in my veins and tells me I’m still alive. Comforting. I miss the birds, though.
Still, my friends are standing nearby, tall and strong, if also bare and defenseless like myself. Many of them are not as strong as they used to be. The winters have taken their toll. None of us has much to say, but we can feel each other and know we are still together.
Most of us, anyway. A few have fallen in the past year. I heard the dull thuds as they toppled, felt the earth shake. For a while, they lay randomly, some leaning drunkenly against old friends, some stretched out along the ground, among the fallen leaves and broken branches. The deer nibbled at their bark, the squirrels scrambled over their twisted limbs, not yet crumbled into the earth. Sad, certainly, but to be expected. It was a tough year—aren’t they all?—so some of them were bound to have succumbed to the storms. And some simply got too old and tired to stand. They’re not entirely lost to the world, though. No. Their spirits, their memories are with me still.
As is the empty nest that clings to my top branches. The little ones are gone, of course. Off to live their own lives, as is proper. They never glance back once they leave me. I wonder if they even remember me at all. Well, that’s life, I guess. In the spring, the hawks will return, to freshen up the old nest for a new family. And so it goes.
The forest is quiet and still, but not abandoned. There is movement now and then, defying the cold. I wonder what it must be like, to propel oneself along on one’s own branches, as those moving along the path are doing. Free and confident. Maybe scary, too. After all, there’s a lot to be said for the stability of occupying one’s own space, surrounded by others who are doing the same, for as long as we can. The beings who matter to us the most stay put. They don’t leave us, not until they disappear, slowly, to become united with the earth from which they emerged so long ago. Safer that way.
Winter is not my favorite season. The cold, the early dark–make me want to pull the covers over my head and stay in bed until Spring. But that way lies madness–right? So get up and paint, I tell myself. Remember the warmth and color of the sun. It’s still out there, even though it’s doing its best to hide from us right now. So I reminded myself of the Caribbean–the lush islands, the beach, the sea. And I got out my paints, squeezed out a pile of yellow, grabbed a brush, and started smearing paint on a couple of canvases. And guess what? Today, after a couple of weeks of intense cold, the sun did come out and the earth warmed up a bit. So I guess my ploy worked, for today, at least.
First, I did a little vignette.
Sand and Sea, acrylic, 12 x 12
Next, encouraged, I branched out into something a bit more substantial, focusing on the light, the sun filling the sky. So that’s how this landscape came by its name.
Lipkin Gallery 