Portfolio of Art and Writing

Poem - "Is There a Point?"

2012-01-02T16:00:00.000-08:00

Is There a Point?

By, C. Heidi Drew

November 14, 2011

Inner thoughts wanting out

Exploding - they are a shout

With calm they could be an art

With a result in mind to start

An adventure in feeling

Something deeply revealing

Of beauty or human condition

May laughter be the transition

From the beginning to letting go

Go where? We don't know

But if for someone else's sake

The ego must take a break

Or inner thoughts will subside

Hiding from judgment in pride

The phenomenon will never take place

Brilliant thoughts leaving no trace

At least the shout has settled down

Though the point was never found

Amara's 31st Birthday Card

2011-12-23T14:21:00.001-08:00

Front of card

Inside of card

Ego

2011-12-16T10:53:00.000-08:00

Mental Chaos

Ego

Ergo

I go

A more authentic poem I never wrote. Of course, it seems so obvious that my negative ego, my dark, evil (or evil with a d) ego hovering on my shoulder haunts me with the reality that this is probably not the original time these four words were put together. This denigrating aspect of ego is the bane of my existence. It does battle with my adoring, creative, inspirational ego in the form of jealousy or demoralizing me. It is an ego of judgment, comparison and ugly allegory. In any case, it does not make me happy. It is not why the artist in me has demanded to be honored my entire life without much financial return. It is the bane of my existence- the desire to be a creative person- the mental block.

So I move my laptop aside and go to another surface where I am creating a greeting card. This holiday card is to tell my lonely younger sister know how much I love her. That is the “thoughtful” ego I stroke for comfort and self-respect. It is the motivating ego. It is also inspiration for my ego because admittedly, the idea that I have the ability to comfort someone else is more fun than trying to figure out how to comfort my own ego.

However, self analytical words creep into my self-congratulatory process of creating a visual piece for someone else or as my studies to be an art teacher taught me, my left brain is doing battle with my right brain for attention. When I was teaching, I could share those brilliant kernels of knowledge and it was no longer all just for my ego.

I succumb to my verbal, analytical mind. I tell myself that most people write from their heart because they want to let that heart shine outside their chests in a glowing form of sharing brilliant insight. Shouldn't we be glad that there are those writers whose words entertain us so well as to take us on a vacation from ourselves no matter where we experience them? Writing is not just for our self-centered egos, I tell myself. Yet, sometimes reading is just wanting others words to lighten up our black and blue, bruised egos by letting us contrast ourselves to worse people in a worse place, even if they are just fictional. I, on the other hand, get jealous of a good writer's talent. Is that devil ego monkey on my shoulder teasing me again?

I decide I must complete some small visual production today or my ego's identity as an “artiste”, will die and with that so shall I. NO, I'm not ready to die; so, I finish the Christmas Greeting card I dreamt up in a nap with my grand-daughter the day before. It's inspiration came by way of an earlier phone call from my younger sister who needed comfort for her broken heart. The greeting card is a collage from a finished sketch I did this past September and is not what I envisioned the card to be but then; my creations have lives of their own and the surprise of the product is what makes it so much fun to do. That's another story. Today, at this holiday time of year my ego and I want to revel in what a wonderful big sister I am.

Tomorrow I may be a wonderful painter, illustrator, poet, writer or even a gifted improvisational actor with egg on my face. In any case, I can be sure my rapscallion ego will be there tripping me up and egging me on.

Two more finished Sketches from Sept. 2011

2011-12-15T10:08:00.001-08:00

working in my sketchpad again

2011-09-19T14:10:00.000-07:00

Yet Halfway to Home - a new poem

2011-09-19T06:51:00.000-07:00

Yet Halfway to Home

By, C Heidi Drew

Almost half way to home

and neither here nor there

The place is here

There is home

Oh, how my thoughts do roam

Hot and humid has disappeared

In the shadow of the clouds

the season moves on

and so shall I

But not yet, for now

It is still summer so they say

But my thoughts stray

To the next chapter

Of day by day

As life goes on slip sliding away

To the great unknown

Oh more than halfway

If that is home

Always alone on our own

Remembered but not renown

Like the season slips slides away

Behind a cloud.

Collaborative Painting article

2011-09-17T06:37:00.000-07:00

Collaboration inArtistic Painting

By, C. Heidi Drew

September 15, 2011

Most often when we think of artists as painters we think ofthem as isolated individuals attempting to express an inner vision. However, when we think of other types ofartists such as: musicians, actors, filmmakers, in fact all of the performingarts, we readily accept the idea of collaboration and during that alliance newcreative ideas are formed to develop a finished piece. This solitary experience by which we expectthe painter to work is the very thing that can cause a creative block anddemise of inspiration and enthusiasm for productivity.

By accepting an other's additions to an inchoate piece of artthe surprising results can inspire new visions as well as, new ways of working. There are many ways to think aboutcollaboration for painting such as occurring during the idea stage ofcreativity or the design stage of a piece but by using the model ofimprovisational theater whereby, with introductory guidance you simply dive in andaccept the offers that come to the piece while you work on it is that whichHeidi Drew is enabling with herCollaborative Painting workshops in October at the Santa Cruz Mountain ArtsCenter in Ben Lomond. These beginningworkshops for all levels will allow for a short period of time to start in on apiece then a round robin painting continuation will follow. Verbal feedback and discussions will also befacilitated.

In training to be an art teacher, Heidi was taught never towork on a student's piece without the student's permission. The expanding of ideas and possibilities fora painting would come with the displaying of the students' personal work and astructured critique after creating it. The teacher would be the only one to offer alternative methods andvisions, verbally while the painter is working. This method of teaching works for many artists but an alternative way ofguiding a student for inspiration and expansion can work in addition to thistraditional method, especially if one is suffering a creative block orennui. Heidi's model of artists takingturns on a piece can lead to new and exciting renditions based on the sameimage or idea. However, as with improvisationaltheater, there are infinite possibilities for collaboration once one lets goand accepts the idea of the shared art making experience.

Collaboration in fine arts has been gaining recognition withthe technological era as is expounded upon on the web site: http://collabarts.org/but the emphasis in art education still tends toward enabling students todevelop their own individuality and personal approach rather than working inaccord. As there is no right or wrong to the process or style of artisticexpression, there is no single correct method for engaging a creativedeclaration. Art making is a hands onlearning style and many hands can make for exciting work.

Lace Cap

2011-08-05T09:11:00.000-07:00

water soluble oil on 8 x 10" canvas board

Another OO illustration redo maybe redone

2011-07-31T10:51:00.001-07:00

A new Poem now

2011-07-31T10:49:00.000-07:00

Loss

By, C. Heidi Drew

Letting go

Remove all the middle letters

LO!

Add two "ss"

What do you know?

Now which way to go?

Remove all the middle letters

No!

Add a "k" first, "w" last

you will get know anew

with a letter or two

When you let go

Another illustration revised.

2011-07-27T13:22:00.000-07:00

Boy finds Oliver Owl on his windowsill.

Pet Shop door- another Oliver Owl book illustration

2011-07-16T08:45:00.000-07:00

"He hears keys jingle in the pet shop door.
Oliver is no longer a wild owl."

Questions - a poem for a change

2011-07-11T09:32:00.000-07:00

Questions

By, C. Heidi Drew

7/11/11

With comfort of questions

The double-yous to decry

Who, what, when, where

and need you ask why?

Who is asking me or you

I am searching for answers

You are too

Cures for mental cancers

What is right to do

In this moment of time

Is my experience true

Or just a pattern to rhyme

When will this story of mine

Be at it's denouement

Curiosity in decline

No reactions to a taunt

Yes, questions keep us going

Where? To the next moment

Day, week, month, year of knowing

Present with our intent

Searching for Oliver

2011-07-07T14:29:00.000-07:00

Shakespeare Owl Illustration for OO book

2011-07-01T16:37:00.001-07:00

The barred owl with the bard

Jessica's birthday card

2011-06-14T10:36:00.001-07:00

Amara's graduation card

2011-06-14T10:34:00.001-07:00

French fold graduation card

some more Oliver Owl book illustrations

2011-06-14T10:29:00.001-07:00

New Poem

2011-03-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

Technology

By, C Heidi Drew

No longer an option to ignore – technology

Dependency I deplore is the psychology

Humanity is lost to a light radiating screen

Loneliness that it creates cannot be seen

Only another use of the analytical

As creativity becomes digital

Its purpose seems redundant

For it’s overly abundant

And so are we – humanity*

March 12, 2011

Very short story

2011-01-19T17:32:00.000-08:00

Bated Breath

By, C. Heidi Drew

January 13, 2011

Laurie looked out the cabin window of her sleep away camp and thought about her friends and family at home. She missed Tabby her cat the most. She pictured Tabby curled up on her bed, waiting for Laurie to come cuddle. Her eyes began to well up with tears. It wasn't her choice to go to summer camp but she knew it meant she was growing up like her older sister, Peggy who went to sleep away camp in her summer after sixth grade. Now, Peggy was a teenager and at home, driving a car with her friends. She even missed her stupid little brother, Michael who was too young for sleep away camp.

A tear overflowed her bottom eyelid. She let it run down her cheek. The wet warmth felt good. It was like the warm water from the spout when Katy and she turned on the outside cabin hose for a drink of water, it was so warm from the sun that they started a water fight. Laurie dried her cheek as she recalled that she and Katy went into a laughing fit over it.

Now, she was supposed to be taking her swimming skills test at the lake but her counselor, Anita, had made her come back and do clean up duty at the cabin just because she left her swimsuit, goggles and bathing cap behind when she went to lunch. This stupid camp and its schedule was too much like school; not what summer is supposed to be.

“I don't know where they are in the cabin,” she told Anita.”

“That's because its such a mess. You can skip swimming then and go do cabin duty,” which Laurie knew meant cleaning up everyone's messes, not just hers.

“Why should I have to clean up after a bunch of kids that don't even like me?” Laurie griped as she slunk back to the cabin. This isn't fair, she thought. Laurie cleaned up her bunk and sure enough her goggles were on it, easy to find. The swim suit and goggles were hanging on a hook in the bathroom, obviously. Why should she have to clean up around the other cabin mates' bunks? She had no idea where to put their things and they might get mad at her for misplacing their stuff.

Then she heard Katy calling her name, coming out of the woods. When she entered the cabin, Laurie saw Katy had whiskers drawn on her cheeks.

“What's with the whiskers?”

“I'm changing my name to Kitty,”and she clawed the air. “Mraowwwww.” Laurie burst out laughing. They both dropped back on her bunk and laughed themselves to tears. Katy wiped her tears and got up. “I got to go to archery. Come with me.”

“I've got to finish cleaning up this cabin and I have riding, now. I'll see you at dinner,” Laurie told her.

As she took out the broom off the hook next to the door, Anita came in. “This can wait,” Anita said. It's time for your next period, we can all finish cleaning this evening.” Seeing the remnants of Laurie's tears of laughter on her cheeks, she declared, “Hey, I've got a joke for you. What did the cat do when he swallowed some cheese?”

“Um, he choked?” Laurie offered.

“He waited by the mouse hole with baited breath!”

“Awwww.” They both groaned.

“I've got to put on my riding clothes, now.” Laurie announced.

“See you later.”

The requirement of this story was it had to have one character tell a joke and one cry within 600 words

Full page spread from "Oliver Owl" picture book

2011-01-19T14:10:00.002-08:00

Tough to get white a true white without losing other colors

Ophelia's 2nd Birthday card

2010-12-27T20:10:00.001-08:00

(inside)

puppies

2010-12-26T14:40:00.001-08:00

This is not a great photo image but too large for my scanner. May still be worked on before used in my book. as is the case for all of them so far.

Working Illustration for Oliver Owl

2010-11-20T10:19:00.000-08:00

I've been working on a picture book for my grand-daughter and any future grandchildren to self publish. This is one of the working illustrations. 7 are done - one is a full page spread, though they're never done until I submit them for print.

Painting for Live Earth Farm Discovery Program

2010-09-26T08:55:00.001-07:00

"Autumn Pleasures"
16 x 20 inches
Acrylic on Canvas

"Time to Get Up"

2010-07-07T13:46:00.001-07:00

Sample illustration for a School Journal story (2000)

New Sketch

2010-07-05T10:02:00.001-07:00

(Finally, sketching again)
in CT studio lounge

Oil Painting Class - SLV Mountain Arts

2010-05-25T20:40:00.000-07:00

Nude

Self Portrait

Gallery Still Life

Recent sketches

2010-02-07T16:50:00.001-08:00

Gary's birthday card

2010-01-09T16:54:00.000-08:00

watercolor pencil and paints

Inside- "Happy Birthday from your best friends,
Heidi and Hobbes"

Baby Ophelia Paintings

2009-12-16T14:01:00.001-08:00

These were painted with acrylics on 6 x 6 inch canvases
from photos Jessica posted of Ophelia in November '09

New Sketch pad

2009-11-12T12:59:00.001-08:00

Step stool for Grand-daughter's Christmas present (early)

2009-11-02T20:47:00.000-08:00

Last 3 "Sketch-a-day"s in this sketch pad - my illustrative diary of my last 5 months

2009-10-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Chickens at Live Earth Farm

while Ophelia was in a back pack on my back

This was inspired by a fellow artist's tale
of an occurrence while painting in Martha's Vineyard

Last sketch in the pad of my grand-daughter,
Ophelia
while I was babysitting

More Daily Sketches - 3 pages left in the pad

2009-09-24T08:33:00.000-07:00

Rhinos for my friend, Beaux

Screech owl like my aunt's owl, Oliver

Gary at our garage sale

Schooner, Alabama in Gloucester races

Amara helping her autistic camper at Breakfaast

Ian's monkey lamp

While babysitting my grand-daughter, Ophelia

More Daily Sketches - (not exactly in order)

2009-08-31T10:25:00.001-07:00

Martha's Vineyard Collage of sketches

More daily sketches - until family reunion holiday

2009-08-09T05:54:00.000-07:00

Jessica's two greatest loves - Seth and Ophelia

Jenny's cat, Sydney

For "Owl Eyes"

Mercury sculpture in our bedroom

Gifts came in the mail from Jessica

Pez gift from Jessica for Gary

Attempt at abstraction - feels like a farce for me

Sherwood Island Connecticut State Beach

Spotted owl

Gary's hanging cherub in our bedroom window

Muskrat and ladybug puppets

More daily sketches

2009-07-21T07:56:00.000-07:00

Out my studio window in Norwalk, CT

From my toilet 289 FH Rd.

Bike accident left-handed drawing

Chester- collie and Journey-golden retriever

Alice Wright sculpture on gold leaf wall stand

More Sketches-a-Day

2009-07-07T13:42:00.000-07:00

sketches made in a 4 x 6 inch pad

Alice Wright sculpture

Media - ball point pen and watercolor pencils

Sketch-a-Day

2009-07-03T08:16:00.000-07:00

This is an exercise in discipline but I am working toward something. Do you sense a theme here? All of these sketches are done in a 4 inch x 6 inch sketch pad.

Sympathy card for Rose McGivney

2009-05-04T10:36:00.001-07:00

After her husband of 65 years, Dave a.k.a. "Zorro" left life on earth behind.

P.S. Painting for Santa Cruz exhibition

2009-04-13T15:12:00.001-07:00

"Wishful Water"

35 x 46cm
Acrylic on canvas board

Last painting for exhibition "Bodies in Water and Myth" in Santa Cruz

2009-04-08T17:19:00.000-07:00

"In the Deep"
35 x 46cm
Acrylic on canvas board

Painting- "Becoming a Mermaid"

2009-03-31T19:45:00.000-07:00

Acrylic on 35 x 46cm canvas board

NZ Impression 4 - sketch of South Island Forestry

2009-03-30T18:00:00.000-07:00

A4 or 210mm x 297mm

Two new underwater paintings

2009-02-19T20:10:00.001-08:00

Lost and Found

30cm x 30cm

Oceanic Imaginings

45cm x 45cm

Ophelia Wright Lewis- the most wonderful vicarious creation

2009-01-31T11:33:00.000-08:00

Ophelia Wright Lewis
Born to Jessica Ridgeway and Seth Lewis
January 12th, 2009

Reflections - a YA story

2008-11-20T13:14:00.000-08:00

Reflections

By, C. Heidi Drew

November 19, 2008

Lucy is lonely and bored this Easter weekend, though she knows by her mother's rule that, "It is not allowed to say bored in this household!" Her best friend, Ruth has gone away for Easter and Lucy lives too far out in the country from anyone else she might like to see, unfortunately that would be nobody, she thinks. She has a brother and sister but they are much older than she is and though they are home this holiday, they are not around often and they are "very busy with important things like their studies and friends." (and lovers.)

Lying on her bed, Lucy looks around her room. Her mother has suggested that she could paint her room any color she wants now that she is almost a teenager. She considers what color she might choose; currently it is a boring flat white. She thinks how fun it would be to turn the room upside down and walk on the ceiling. The obstacles are alluring. Her older brother, David had once suggested to her that she take a mirror and walk around the house with it pointed at the ceiling. At the time, Lucy thought he was just trying to get her to go away from him and leave him alone because he was on the phone with some girl. Now, she had to admit to herself that, at the time – last Thanksgiving, she had been whining to everyone in the house that she was bored. That's when her mother banned that word from the house. Family gatherings were not very interesting. Maybe Dave's idea was a good one.

Lucy walks over to her dresser and picks up her ivory mirror that Grandma Alison had given her for her eleventh birthday. She thought it was such a dull gift and even complained to her mother that it was blotchy, spotted in places with missing silver behind the beveled glass reflection.

"Oh, Lucy." her mother, admonished her, "Don't be ungrateful. In a few years you will be looking in that mirror for hours on end."

Looking down into the mirror at her face, she wonders why. Then she looks beyond her head's reflection to the ceiling and starts to try to make her way around her bedroom. It is tricky and she finds herself bumping into the furniture in her modest bedroom so she heads out to the hallway. Her legs are not really long enough to surmount the doorway from this ceiling view because the ceilings in her house are high and the doorways not so much. She realizes that she doesn't really have to climb over the door jam that she sees in the mirror and so she just keeps walking right through it. On the other side of the doorway beyond her face, an image of a man's face in concentration appears. It's as if he is focused on a computer screen and keyboarding, not really looking at her.

Then he stops working and calls out, "This isn't working!"

"Yes it is, just keep going with it." A female voice calls from down the hall in the kitchen.

Lucy decides that she wants to see who is that voice because she doesn't recognize the man she sees in the mirror or screen as the case may be. It is easy to make her way down the hall as long as her hands are confined to holding the mirror since there isn't any furniture or beams in the hallway. Her house is a farmhouse style house that goes backwards from where her bedroom is in the front. The walls are covered with family photos and there are other doors to other rooms but the kitchen is at the very back and all she has to do is walk straight to it.

In the kitchen she finds a woman cleaning up and preparing to make a meal. She doesn't recognize this woman, either. On the counter next to her is a laptop computer at which she keeps glancing. There is probably a recipe on it which she is intending to follow.

"Email to me what you've written so far." She calls back down the hallway and adds, "If you want suggestions."

"How's the cake coming along, angel?" He calls.

"Very funny; it is an angel food cake not me and you can't have any unless you finish your writing, you devil," she calls back smiling. Then she cracks an egg in the big yellow mixing bowl.

Lucy wants to look at this lady's computer screen but at any angle that she tilts her mirror she can't quite see it. She decides to make her way back down the hall to observe the man who is writing. She wonders, what is he writing; the recipe the lady is cooking?

When Lucy returns through the kitchen door she doesn't find herself in the familiar hallway to her bedroom but in a large room. She bumps into the furniture because she doesn't know what to expect. She can't figure out which room in her house this could be. When she turns to walk away from it she bumps into what feels like a rolling desk chair. It moves out of her way a bit as she feels her body rolling it along. She decides to put the mirror down and get reoriented.

Lucy finds herself back in the corridor to her bedroom and there are no new people around at all. In the kitchen her older sister, Laura is making a lemon meringue pie and her mother is washing dishes. Her mom looks over at her when she enters the room with the mirror in her hand and says, "See, I told you that mirror would be your favorite gift someday."

"I'm not looking at myself; I'm looking at the ceiling," Lucy informs her mother.

"Where did you get that crazy idea?"

"We used to do that all the time," Laura answers her mother's question and remarks to Lucy, "Oh, what a clever way for Dave to get rid of you!"

"What's he doing working on his computer?" Mom asks.

"He said he was going out to meet some girl." Lucy informs them.

"Why don't you go play with your crayons and coloring books?" Lucy ignores Laura's condescending attitude toward her interests and leaves the room. She holds the mirror up to the ceiling again and sure enough, there she is in the big room with two desks back to back that disappeared when she turns the mirror away from the ceiling. They are on the ceiling according to her mirror but gravity is not pulling anything toward her.

The man stops keyboarding and rubs his chin. He appears to be reading what is on his computer screen. As she tries to make her way over to read over his shoulder he suddenly calls out again, "I don't know where to go from here."

The lady in the kitchen calls back, "Just keep going. Imagine yourself in her world." This freaks Lucy out a bit. How could she be watching this and actually be in her own house that is so different from what she is seeing in the mirror? Who are these people, anyway?

She decides to go for a walk. She goes back to her room to get her jacket. It's a late Easter this year but it is still cool jacket weather.

"I'm going out. When should I be back for desert?" she asks her mother who is now sponging down the stove.

"You could help Laura with her pie." Lucy's mother suggests.

"She'll just wreck it" Laura asserts then tries to lighten up so her mother won't scold her. "You know what they say about too many cooks…"

"Go ahead, darling," Her mother tells Lucy. "I'm sure there will be pie left over whenever you get back."

Outside, Lucy feels much better. Maybe she was daydreaming when she was looking in that hand mirror. The fresh air and sunshine gives her a lot more energy than in that house full of boring adults. Lucy hadn't realized that there are so many flowers out. She decides to pick some wild flowers that she could sketch with her new water soluble colored pencils. Contrary to Laura's suggestion, she is not using crayons in a coloring book anymore. Lucy considers, how would Laura know I am working in colored pencils and watercolors now, she hasn't been home since Christmas? Then Lucy realizes that Laura couldn't possibly provoke her now that she's out there in the great outdoors. She feels so much freer outside than she thinks Laura is feeling inside - trying to prove her maturity by baking a pie.

Taking in the freedom of nature, meandering through the fields, Lucy spots a honey bee on the ground. She stops and studies it and notices it isn't moving. Before touching it she decides to see what it does if she tries moving it with a leaf - nothing. It must be dead. Lucy wants to pick it up and bring it home. Maybe she could draw it but it is so fragile and she has no way to carry it home. She tries using a firm leaf like a pancake turner to scoop it up. Success! She gently cups it in her hand then realizes she can carry it in her hooded sweatshirt pass-through front pocket.

As Lucy is walking and working out her carrying system she almost steps in a huge puddle. Just before she steps, she looks down, catching a reflected image. It is the man and the woman with the partner desks joyfully working away. They pause and look at each other. Lucy feels the breeze picking up and a leaf blows into the puddle rippling the image into abstraction. As it settles down, a large reflection of a seagull obscures the mirrored image of the concentrating couple. Lucy hears a buzzing coming from her front pouch pocket and it begins to flutter. She looks at her sweatshirt pocket then back at the puddle. Now the puddle is further away and she can barely make out the evidence of the couple. It's as if she's floating away. She looks around and sees blue the color of sky everywhere. This is the color she wants to paint her bedroom. The blue changes to a misty white then spots of blue again. What she sees below her is no longer a puddle but a much darker greenish blue with flecks of white and navy blue patches or shadows. It resembles white caps on a far away ocean. There are flashes of bright light bouncing off this body of water. Then there is only what Lucy can describe as the sensation of a pop, like a bubble and suddenly she is no longer having the sensation of floating or flying.

Lucy's weight is on her back and she is looking up at flat white space. She tastes a sweet honey like flavor in her mouth. There is a knock on her door and Laura enters announcing, "David's home and desert is ready."

Laura checks her pocket and the bee is still there. She gently scoops it out and places it on her desk under a glass she keeps there for drinking water when she's drawing, painting or working on homework. She glances at herself in her hand mirror, brushes her hair, then goes to join her family for desert.

Life Drawing again

2008-11-15T22:32:00.001-08:00

45 minute pose

20 minute pose

45 minute pose

Vote

2008-10-16T19:03:00.001-07:00

Baby Overall's embroidery

2008-10-15T17:19:00.001-07:00

Back

Front

CP- a Short Story

2008-09-20T05:56:00.000-07:00

C.P.

September 18, 2008

They didn't get it. I mean, I guess you could say nobody can really get what another's life experience is like but in this case, they couldn't get it because I couldn't really tell them in their way of communicating; but he got it…and I got it, that's my sense of humor…you'll see; read on.

I suppose this might make a bit more sense if I explain that "I'm a C.P." as they lovingly refer to me, meaning I have cerebral palsy. I go to a camp in the summers with many people with all sorts of disabilities and the counselors are the ones who call me a C.P.; but they also call me Luellen or Lou or LuLu. They love us at this camp and by they, I mean those that are not disabled though sometimes they seem mentally challenged…joking again.

However, this is not where the incident of which I speak about, "they not getting it". In fact, it wasn't just one incident. It still may occur. I guess that maybe I am being obscure so I should get on with my story. I am writing this story by talking into a microphone on my computer, by the way. It has a speech recognition program. I am a bit twisted and cannot use my hands or legs fully so I usually get around in a wheel chair. I am twenty-five years old so I am given adult freedom and have a motorized chair for getting around town, though I can't drive a car. I don't know why I keep explaining my symptoms but this story would be hard to grasp without doing so. Shall I explain my looks? My mother always uses the word, shall. It's a lovely word; don't you think? Okay, I'm getting diverted again. My mother also uses the word "lovely" a lot, especially when she talks about me.

"Luellen has such lovely hair. I love to wash and comb it and plait her golden locks." That's how she talks. She's incredibly old fashion. Sometimes I feel like her doll. But what would I do if I had a child born all messed up? Okay, we're getting closer to my story, now. I'm afraid I will never have a child and they are afraid that I will.

My father doesn't give me much attention; but he got his son who is living on his own, now doing his own thing. Brian was so good to me and I suppose still is. We email and talk on the phone a lot. Brian is loving and patient with me. Brian understands this story of which I am going to tell, now.

I go outdoors in my motorized chair a lot. We live in a small city where there are plenty of sidewalks and not terribly busy streets. As much as my mother is old fashion and treats me like a doll, she allows and assists me with my freedom. One afternoon in the summer when I was out and about, alone, a man came up to me and started to chat with me. He was interested in my chair or maybe my golden plait. He told me his name was Kim. We talked for a long time and he walked along with me as I wandered the neighborhood. He asked about my condition which is obvious beyond the wheelchair. He wanted to know if I could get up. I told him, "with help." He asked me if it felt good when he rubbed my arm. I told him, "My skin has the same sensitivity as anyone else's." Then he rubbed my thigh, then his hand went between my legs and it started to feel really good between my legs. I had shorts on.

Kim said, "Let's go to the school and chat." It is an elementary school in my neighborhood.

"I would like that." He was very patient with my slow talk.

As we strolled, well he strolled and I rolled; I asked him if he would stroke me some more and he complied. At the school yard Kim asked if I could walk at all. I told him yes, if he lifted me up and put his legs behind mine. He gently lifted me and wrapped his arms under my breasts from behind me and put his knees just behind mine, helping my legs move forward in steps like a walking full-sized marionette. When we parted that afternoon he promised to meet me there the next day around the same time we first met.

When I returned home my mother asked, "Where were you for so long? I must admit I was a bit worried."

"I met a new friend."

"That's nice. What did you do?"

"He helped me to walk."

"Oh she must be a very nice friend," and she walked off into the kitchen before I could maintain that my friend was a he. She had to make dinner for my father. My mother is not always patient with my slow speech and my father expects dinner right at six o'clock but never helps. I guess he's old fashioned too. I would never marry a man like him.

I went upstairs to talk to my computer.

I met with Kim at the school the next day. He helped me walk again. I asked him to rub my breasts because it hurt where he held me. When he rubbed them I felt wet between my legs. It felt so good that I almost wet my pants. I saw his bulge in his pants and he tried to adjust it. I reached out to him and he backed away.

My mother was happy I had a new friend. She told me, "I would like to meet your new friend. You should invite her over."

I didn't want to and only said, "Oh, maybe someday."

"What's her name?"

"Kim."

"What is Kim's surname?

"I don' know. I never asked."

"Ask her, maybe we know her parents." My mother said.

I didn't want to ask him his last name. I didn't want to scare him off. He is a lot older than I am and he didn't seem like he wanted me to know too much about him. I like the mystery of him.

We always met at the school but then we would go other places. In the woods he carried me to sit by a pond in a glen. There he kissed me on the lips. "More," I urged. It sounded like, "Mow-huh." He kissed me long and caressed my breast. I reached for his bulge and he backed away. "Pa-lhase," I begged. He picked me up and brought me back out to my wheel chair on the path. It was getting dark and cold out.

When I returned home no one was home. I was chilled. I went to my room and closed the door. I reached between my legs and it was damp. I rubbed the dampness and warmed up. It got damper. I wanted Kim in my bed with me and then I heard the front door slam. I turned on the T.V.

That night Brian called home. He talked to me and told me he had a new girlfriend named, Kimberly. My heart skipped a beat. "I have a Kim too." Brian isn't always patient with my speech either. He likes to talk to me but not so much with me.

"That's nice. E-mail me about your friend. I've got to go. Kimberly is waiting for me. Bye…e-mail me." Was my Kim waiting for me like I found myself waiting for him?

I didn't find him for over a week of rainy days. My mother suggested I invite Kim over. I think she knew I was waiting for the rain to stop. She took me on errands just to get me out of the house. That week we had some intense thunder storms and then it would clear up but she doesn't let me take my motorized chair out when the ground is wet. She thinks I'll get shocked or slide too easily or something. Maybe she's just worried about the upkeep of the expensive chair.

I learned a new word today- pining. I was pining for Kim in the pine woods. Finally, we reunited. We reunited at the school and I asked him to follow me. He didn't really follow but he let me lead. I led him to the pine woods in the park next to the school. The school was closed for summer so no-one is around much. It was August when most families are away on vacation. Camp in June was my holiday. August was my adventure time.

"Rub me." I demanded. Kim looked at me hard. He played with my hair. "Pa-lha-ase." My speech was even worse with yearning. He rubbed my shoulders, my arm, my hands, my fingers. I grabbed his hand and put it between my legs. I lifted my shirt and exposed my breasts though I don't think my warped torso is so lovely. He didn't look. He was looking at my crotch. I had worn a skirt that day. I spread my knees wide. Could he see my underwear getting wet? He touched my underwear and then smelled his fingers.

"Cawrrry me."

He lifted me out of my chair and lay me down on the damp ground. I didn't care. He pulled down my underwear over my twisted legs. He was serene and tender. I reached up to him. I could see his bulge. Then he finally undid his belt and undid his fly and let his pants drop. He did not have on any underwear and at last, I saw a man's penis in real life. I was amazed at how it stood up strait and hard. It looked enormous. But he didn't lie on top of me. He bent down and started to lick my thighs. He pulled down my panties, as my mother refers to them. Then he licked between my legs. It felt so wonderful I thought I might cry out but I didn't want anyone to find us there in the woods. I wanted this to go on forever. "Pha-lhase." He slid inside me so easily I hardly knew it happened. He started to pump and pump. He watched me. I closed my eyes. Before long he shuddered and quickly pulled out of me. White stuff came out of his penis in little spurts like a pulsing fountain. He fell back on the soft damp pine needle laden ground next to me. "Are you okay? Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"Yes. Pha-lease. Th-honk-ou-ou-ou."

"This is just between us. We must go back to the school now." He said and helped me get dressed then tenderly lifted me up and put me in my chair.

So here's where the story gets sad. People think that just because I was deformed at birth that I don't think and feel like anyone else. I know that cerebral palsy is confusing because it affects different people's minds and bodies differently but it is not a progressive disease. I was smart enough to get through high school with good grades and test scores. I think as well as any other adult who finished high school and I am 25 years old; but some people can't understand that. Kim knew that. I think my mother knows that but in the end, my father doesn't believe that.

There was a 14 year old child in the woods that day. We didn't hear her or see her. She was with a boyfriend. They saw us. I've heard that the boy told the girl, Lisa, not to say anything but she thought I was being taken advantage of and went home and told her mother about the handicap woman and the old man in the woods. They live on our block and everyone on our block knows where I live because we have bright yellow street sign in front of our house with a silhouette of a person in a wheelchair. They see me out in it, too. I may have even had a chat with Lisa at sometime so she hears my slow speech which probably makes her think I am mentally retarded. She may have meant well by telling her mother what she saw.

Her mother, told my parents. My father, who barely gives me the time of day, went to the police.

"Noooo!" I said.

The police came to the house to talked to me but I was in my room brooding. They wouldn't let me go out alone anymore. Lisa identified Kim to them.

When they found Kim, he confessed. He told them it was consensual. They didn't believe him and they arrested him for rape. I don't know what has happened to him since.

"Noooo!" I said. They didn't believe me. Now, I will never see him again, I am sure. I pine for him.

My brother, Brian is home from Colorado with his girlfriend, Kimberly. As it turns out, she is an older, wealthy woman. Nobody cares. I heard my father say, "Good for you, Brian. An older woman knows a lot more about how to physically treat a man."

I am in my room writing this story for a cathartic experience. I've just learned that word. Life is a learning experience and I am trying to learn from my Kim.

Bathroom art

2008-08-29T14:41:00.001-07:00

Garden Music - Poem and illustration

2008-06-02T15:21:00.000-07:00

Garden Music

By, C. Heidi Drew

May 2008

She talks to the plants in the garden

"You can't grow there, Sir Oak"

With a little digging for the roots

Yank! And it's gone in a stroke

"Now, don't walk on my flowers, Missy"

As the cat follows her tasks

"Are you hungry like me, my friend?"

Vociferously suggesting, she asks

In the kitchen she cleans up dishes

The sound of the water makes her hum

Miss Kitty joins her wordless expression

"Ah, yes, our food will soon come."

"Shall, we have a melody to tag on?"

Radio accompaniment inspires the tune

"Good day Sunshine" she parrots

Now her hunger grows, way past noon.

"Tuna will serve us both," she considers

The fish water squeezed into kitty's bowl

"Where did you go, my dear mouser?"

Spotting in the corner, a dead vole

"Sorry Mr. Field mouse for my cat,

She protects my tubers for me"

She whistles the hymn, In the Garden

Like the birdsong high in a tree

Outside after she finishes her lunch

Looking up to the music above

Grey clouds have obscured the sun

"Ah, rain, my garden will love"

As the pitter patter rhythm increases

She retreats indoors, now alone

With the dull, dreary light from her window

The rain's rhythm becomes a drone

A mraow comes from the sash

"Oh, Miss Kitty, do come in"

While drying, they settle on the sofa

Purring and dozing, they're tranquil then

"Friends and Lovers" - A Short Story

2008-05-26T11:19:00.000-07:00

Friends and Lovers

By, C. Heidi Drew

May 20, 2008

"Adele, I'm leaving!" George called from the front hall.

"Email me when you get there," Adele yelled back from the kitchen sink where she was cleaning up the morning dishes.

"What, no kiss?" He said as he reappeared in the kitchen.

"Well, my hands are wet. Come here."

She dried her hands on the dish towel hanging on the refrigerator handle next to the sink and turned around to give him a kiss. George took his lap top computer in its case and headed to the garage.

"Do you need help with your bags?" Adele offered, but there was no reply as the door banged shut.

I guess he didn't hear me, Adele thought as she continued with the clean up of the kitchen and considered what she was going to do with her day, next. It occurred to Adele that she enjoyed the missing of George as much as she enjoyed his being home…if not more. She had no doubt that she loved him but the emotion of missing him was more exciting than their usual interactions and when George came home after one of his business trips, there was always something new that had some sort of affect on their lives other than the usual routines of daily living. That's what happens after ten years of marriage, she dismissed

Adele had recently sold her floral business because it was more work than profit. The problem for her now was she didn't know what she wanted to do with her life. She wasn't able to get pregnant and she didn't want to adopt. She decided she wasn't enough of a fan of children to raise a kid she hadn't spawned. When her friends who had already had children became mothers, their children were the only thing they could talk about. What a bore!

Coming back into the present, she recalled, she was meant to meet Inez today for lunch. Inez was a very busy woman with her varied pursuits of new experience but having children wasn't one of them either, nor was having a lover, it seemed. Presently Inez was taking an acting class. She had asked Adele to bring a novel Inez had lent her because Inez wanted to find a scene in it that she was hoping to deliver for her final monologue presentation. The theme assigned for the monologue was one where the character was grappling with homosexuality.

First, she remembered, Adele had to phone their mutual friend, Simone who was relocating to Seattle for a new job. Everyone expected Adele to be heartbroken about Simone leaving Massachusetts but Simone had been complaining for so long about the northeast provincial attitudes and blustery, cold Boston winters that Adele was just happy and relieved for Simone. It occurred to her that Inez seemed happy to not have the competition for Adele's friendship even though Inez had so many more friends than Adele had or maybe even, needed. When Simone and Inez became friends, Inez had scolded Adele for giving Simone a party. "You never gave me a party and we've known each other much longer."

"But, I've made you lots of birthday bouquets, Inez," Adele had responded. "Besides, you told me you don't like to make a big deal out of birthdays and Simone does."

"Forget it; let's not make such a big deal of this," Inez shut her up as if Adele had started the whole conflict in the first place and the following year Inez started throwing her own birthday parties for herself. She was a social animal.

Simone wasn't home when Adele rang her. She thought that she was probably running around getting last minute things done. Her husband, Lucas had already left for the west coast because he had a gig out there. Lucas was a jazz pianist. Adele left a message on her voice mail, "Hi Simone, please be sure to call me before you go. This time leave a message and if you change your mind about taking a cab to the airport, my offer still stands to drive you. It doesn't matter that your flight is at seven in the morning; you can just spend the night. George is away on a case."

Then Adele changed into one of her more unusual outfits thinking; Inez had such interesting clothes and she didn't want to appear as boring as she felt wearing her more comfortable clothes around Inez's theater crowd.

Inez was waiting in the parking lot in front of the community theater when Adele arrived. "Do you have my book?" Inez asked immediately.

"Of course, but I didn't get to finish it. It's such a fat book. How are you ever going to find that scene where the one nun is seducing the other? I haven't come across it, yet."

"I don't know but the story isn't written in first person so I then have to rewrite it as if I'm one of the two nuns coming to terms with the seduction by this afternoon. Do you mind if I skip lunch today? We're meant to read our monologues this afternoon and perform it memorized next week," Inez informed her. "Will you come see it?"

"Not a problem. It's not like I'm terribly busy, now and I just ate breakfast, anyway."

When Adele got home there was a message on her answering machine from Simone. She sounded odd and just asked Adele to call back. As it turned out, Simone had decided that she wanted to stay overnight at Adele's and get a ride to the airport in the morning. "I have to tell you something in person before I go," she said just before disconnecting.

This was going to be fun. Adele hadn't had an overnight with a girlfriend since she married George. At about four o'clock that afternoon, George phoned her and she told him about Inez's final assignment in her acting class and about Simone spending the night that night. They joked that maybe Inez was a closet lesbian and would feel slighted by Simone's overnight.

"I'll call you if anything changes with this case but I should be back by Friday," George told her. He was a Plymouth county district attorney and there was a sexually dangerous person in prison that he was trying to get civilly committed to Bridgewater State Hospital before his prison term was up. The prisoner had repeatedly molested young men and showed no remorse. When George had a sex crime case, his specialty at his firm, they often joked about sex to lighten the harsh reality of all the perversion in the world.

Simone arrived at Adele's by taxi around six o'clock with her two bags, a backpack and her lap top computer. "Can I just put my suitcases in your car so I don't have to carry them out there at dawn? I've got tomorrow's clothes, my book and my cosmetic bag in my backpack."

"No problem. Here're the car keys. I'm making us eggplant parmesan for dinner and I bought some chocolate chip ice cream for dessert, if you want. I was thinking we could make pop corn and watch a movie later, too," Adele suggested but Simone was already out the door with her big bags. No one really cares what I have to say, Adele thought and then she remembered that Simone had said on the phone that she had something to tell her that seemed important. When Simone reentered the kitchen she appeared distraught. "So what do you have to tell me?"

"Can I have a glass of wine?" Simone begged.

"Sure, help yourself." Adele watched Simone get down two wine glasses and pour them each a large glass of red wine.

"Stop staring at me!" Simone bawled. Adele turned back to the stove and dipped another piece of eggplant into the egg batter, then the seasoned flour. Their first pour of wine usually opened up to frivolous chit chat but the silence then felt palpable to Adele. Suddenly, Simone blurted out, "I've got breast cancer."

"Oh God, Simone!... When did you find out?" Adele turned to face her with a pained look. "And you're still moving all the way out to Seattle where you have no friends or relatives to support you?"

"I'll have my husband! And I have a job there so I'll have my medical insurance to pay for my treatments. You know that Lucas, as a session musician doesn't have insurance."

"Yea, and Lucas is always traveling and hardly ever around," Adele responded. "Doesn't it take a few weeks for your insurance to kick in and won't they deny you treatment if you were diagnosed before you got the insurance? What does Lucas say about all this?"

"I haven't told him," Simone confessed. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about tonight."

"Me?" Adele cried. "Why talk to me? I'm still too afraid to tell George that I don't really want to have a baby, now."

"It's the hip new thing to not want children," Simone told her. "Just ask Inez. Everyone in her theater group is childless except that one single mother friend of hers that brings her kid everywhere she goes and just expects everyone else to watch him. They claim there are too many children on this earth already."

"That's easy for them to say; probably because most of them are gay," Adele added.

"I think Inez is gay, too you know," Simone told her. "She sort of came onto me when we said our good-byes this weekend."

"What? How? I mean, why do you think so? Are you sure?"

"No, but she kissed me squarely on the lips and told me she loved me." Simone told Adele.

"That's just Inez's overly dramatic way. It doesn't mean she's gay," Adele declared. "But who cares about that? Do you and Lucas want kids? I mean this will probably have a lot of impact on his life too, you know. He needs to know about your...situation." Suddenly, Adele felt like a hypocrite.

"It's okay, Adele you can say the "c" word." Simone said. "Lucas and I talk about kids but because I'm the steady income earner, that's all we do, talk about it in the abstract. Besides, we're apart too much with his musical career, to raise and support a kid."

"Well, now you're going to need him to be your support," Adele declared. "Or," she paused. "Stay here. I'll be your support."

"I wish you could come to Seattle," Simone responded and then they both took long, slow swallows of their wine. Adele, not knowing what to say, turned back to the counter to continue preparation of their dinner.

"Can I help?" Simone offered glad for the normalcy of this task and then the phone rang.

"Yes," Adele responded. "You can answer that. I've got eggy, flour fingers."

Simone picked up the hand set of the phone and checked the caller i.d. "It's Inez," She clicked the "on" button then said to Adele. "You want to talk to her?"

"Not now." Adele said, holding up her messy fingers. Simone hung up the phone again. "I'll call her later. Have you told her about…?" She gestured to her own breasts.

"It's okay, you can say it; but no, I haven't told her about the breast cancer. She's never been one I think of to turn to with female problems. She seems so tough and resilient."

"I know what you mean but breast cancer isn't really a female thing. It's the cancer part of it that anyone can sympathize with," Adele said as she washed and dried her hands.

"I guess I'm not looking for sympathy. I just need support."

"Talk to Lucas." Adele went to the blinking phone and held out the hand piece to Simone. She then turned back to her cooking and placed the casserole of eggplant in the oven. Next thing was to make a salad. She took another gulp of her wine and got out the various makings along with butter and garlic for the French baguette. Simone retreated into the guest room and sat down on the bed staring at the phone. Suddenly the bed felt so good that she lay down and resting the phone on her stomach. Mentally drained, Simone faded into an restless sleep.

She dreamed of seeing her childhood friend, Jennifer on a playground that had a tower resembling the space needle in Seattle. Then they were kissing. Lucas appeared on a stage in the background and was singing to all of them the refrain from "Danny's Song" by, Loggins and Messina, "Even though we ain't got money I'm so in love with you honey and everything will bring a chain of love. In the morning when I rise bring a tear of joy to my eyes and tell me everything is going to be alright."

She woke with a start when the phone rang on Simone's belly. Automatically, she turned it off.

Immediately then, Adele's cell phone rang out in the front hall where she had left it in her purse. When Adele scrambled for it, George asked her why she hung up on him. She told him about her current situation and Simone's bad news to explain that it was probably Simone who hung up on him. He concurred that Simone could stay with them longer if she needed to. "Anyway, I rang to tell you that I'll be back tomorrow. My client was committed to the state hospital's psychiatric ward today."

Simone came out of the guest room a bit disheveled from sleep. "I hung up on someone; I'm sorry. I never did call Lucas because I fell asleep. I guess I'm too tired tonight," She confessed. "I'll talk to Lucas when I see him in Seattle. Telling him from here isn't going to change anything. I know how much you care, Adele but I've got to handle this diagnosis my own way." She paused and added, "When it comes down to it, we're really in this life all alone anyway, you know?"

"Yea, I guess," Adele pondered this lonely thought. "I'm really going to miss you, Simone."

"I'm not dying, you know!" Simone barked.

"I mean, now that you're really moving all the way across the country."

"Come visit."

"Okay," Adele said. "Dinner's ready. Let's eat. You need to fatten up for chemorexia." and they laughed.

As they were setting the table the phone rang again and without looking, Adele picked it up. She didn't really believe in screening calls; it only put off the inevitable and she hated it when people forgot to call back so she tried to treat people the way she wanted to be treated.

"Hi, Adele?" Inez barked, launching into her with, "Why did you say you didn't want to talk to me? Was that Simone? I thought she went to Seattle."

"Hi Inez; I was cooking when you called before and now we're about to sit down." She looked at Simone with an, I'm sorry look and Simone looked at Adele shaking her head with hand over her mouth. "Simone is leaving tomorrow morning and she wanted me to take her to the airport so she's spending the night. We're about to eat dinner. Can I call you tomorrow or is this important?"

Simone was grateful for her quick dismissal of the phone call and they proceeded with dinner in a rather subdued, contemplative way.

It worked out that Adele could pick up George at the airport only one hour after dropping off Simone the next morning.

On their way home from the airport, at Adele's interested questioning about George's trip, he told her with pleasure about the ease of his case and what would come next with it. Then Adele found the opportunity to unload all the difficulty of Simone's situation as it had played out. At that point, George offered more drama to the situation. "You do know that Lucas has the occasional affair when he's on the road, right?"

"What? No!" Adele declared.

"I think, actually, he may have had a one night stand with Inez."

Adele's eyes filled with tears. "So, your teasing about Inez being gay, was really just a joke, I guess."

"Yes, but don't interfere, Adele," George warned her. "Maybe Simone knows, maybe not, but they have to figure this out for themselves and unless she asks you, I wouldn't offer up anything. It'll be okay, Adele. Simone will be okay."

"I don't want to adopt a baby." Adele burst out. "I don't love babies, like you do. It would be just one more game playing human being with health issues draining the earth of its resources."

"Can we talk about this later?" George said, realizing how upsetting all of her friends' dramas could be for Adele. "I love you, sweetheart."

"How would you feel if I flew out to Seattle to support Simone through her chemo?" Adele suggested.

"Did she ask you to?" he questioned.

"No, but if she does…" Adele said. "I can't wait hear how it goes for her out there."

"Wait!" George commanded. "But of course, I wouldn't stop you from going."

"I love you, too, George."

Latest Life Drawings

2008-04-15T22:26:00.000-07:00

New Zealand Impressions

2008-04-15T21:01:00.000-07:00

Night Sky

On the Rocks

Hillside

These are acrylic paintings I did on paper in one quick go.
They are all A4 or 210 x 297mm acid free acrylic painting paper

South Island, NZ - March 2008

2008-04-04T19:54:00.000-07:00

These are a group of little sketches I did on my camping trip on the south island of New Zealand. All, except the last one of Mt. Stefton, are colored with water colors after returning to my studio.

Birthday Card for Ian

2008-02-04T18:49:00.000-08:00

Tomatoe Juggling Peacock

2008-01-27T23:01:00.000-08:00

This illustration is for a thank you card.

"My Kiwi Self "- a portrait

2008-01-10T18:36:00.000-08:00

Acrylic on Canvas
23.5" x 19.75" (appx.)

original illustration for "Which Ferry?"

2007-11-18T17:11:00.001-08:00

Which Ferry? - story and illustration

2007-10-22T16:32:00.000-07:00

Which Ferry?

Going up the steep front steps of the vine covered stoop to the witch’s house, Farrah tripped on her sheer, flowing, pink and blue dress. It was really her mother’s night gown and obviously still too big for her even though her mother had hemmed it into perfect little fairy points for the costume. To catch her fall, Farrah tried to catch herself with her wand as if it was a cane and it bent in half.

Everyone said that old brick house belonged to a real witch.

Jacque told Farrah when they were walking by her ivy encased house on West Avenue, on the way home from school, their feet kicking up the autumn leaves as they went, “She only dresses as a witch on Halloween but she watches us out her windows and tries to put spells on us."

Farrah stared at the windows. Then Jacque challenged, "I dare you to go there alone on Halloween.”

“How will you know that I went to her house if I’m alone?”

After contemplating the dilemma Jacque suggested, “Bring us back something witchy.”

Farrah figured the old witch might enjoy Halloween, too, even if she wasn’t very sociable, living reclusively in her house with her cat.

The witch opened the door before Farrah could even find the doorbell.

“Trick or treat!”

“Trick!” The witch replied without so much as a smile.

“Um, I broke my wand when I fell.” Farrah showed her.

“No trick, no treat!” The witch declared.

“Um…okay. I’ll tell you a joke,” Farrah offered. The witch stood there stone faced. “What do you do when you miss the ferry to your island home?”

“What island home?”

“Pretend you live on an island.”

“I don’t pretend,” the witch said.

“You’re dressed up as a witch,” Farrah pointed out.

“And?”

“And, it’s Halloween; we all get to pretend for a night.”

“That’s your joke?” The witch responded.

“No!” Farrah whined. “You ruined my punch line!”

“What’s the punch line?”

“You put your teeth under a pillow. Get it – the tooth fairy.”

“You didn’t say tooth fairy.”

“That would have ruined the joke!”

The witch laughed in that cackling, haunting witch way and Farrah noticed she was missing her two front teeth, like the jack-o-lantern in her window.

“So you’re the one who stole my teeth!” The witch declared.

“I’m not a tooth fairy!” Farrah stamped her foot. Then she curtsied. “I’m a good fairy.”

“So why couldn’t you miss the good ferry to your island home?”

“Then what would be the punch line?” Farrah asked the witch.

“Catch a witch,” and the witch held up her broom.

“That’s a good one,” Farrah giggled. “Can I borrow your broom?”

“If I can have your wand,” the witch offered.

“Sure.” The wand was simply made of a wooden dowel Farrah’s father had in his garage workshop with a card board star covered in tin foil attached to the end and streaming some blue and pink ribbons. “It’s broken though.” She held it up and hanging by only a few strings of wood, it drooped down.

“I can break my broom and we’ll be even!” The witch told her as she cracked it over her knee.

“No! I’ll bring the broom back,” Farrah exclaimed.

“Ow! It didn’t break,” The witch declared.

“Just write your name on it and I promise I’ll bring it back.”

When the witch went to get a permanent marker, her black cat came out of a dark doorway in the hall and up to the front hall where she rubbed up against Farrah’s legs under her sheer gown. He felt soft. Farrah liked cats.

Returning shortly, the witch said, “Here” handing Farrah several candy bars. “And give some to your friends. Make the boy with the French accent bring the broom back to me. Now, what have you done with Midnight?”

“Midnight?” Farrah questioned. “You mean Jacque?”

“My cat!” The witch declared as she wrote on the broom - Wicked Witch of the West.

“Voila!” Farrah announced as Midnight squirmed between her legs and out from under her gown

“And, I thought you said this wand was broken,” the witch said, picking up the wand and tapping Farrah on the head. She opened the door. “Now, disappear brave Ferry.”

“Farrah's my name,” the little girl informed her.

"You are a Farahy, indeed," the wicked witch of the west declared through her vacant smile.

Happy Halloween

2007-10-04T08:01:00.000-07:00

Drew Dragonfly Damselfly - another children's story and illustration

2007-09-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

Drew Dragonfly Damselfly

September 9, 2007

Hi. My name is Drew and I am a dragonfly. Most people can't tell me apart from a damselfly. Maybe that’s why I have an androgynous name or a name that can be both for males and females. The truth is that damselflies like my friend, Dru or Drusilla can be both male and female. We like to confuse people and spell our names the same way.

I started out as a nymph in fresh water so did my friend, Dru the damselfly. We are practically the same insect just different suborders of the Odonata order. There are many varieties of us. We come in all sorts of sizes and colors. People like us because we eat insects that are bad for their gardens and we're pretty! We rarely bite people unless they touch our tummies. It doesn't tickle us. But we are stealth flyers so that hardly ever happens. We can fly as fast as 30 and 60 kilometers per hour or 19 to 38 miles per hour. We don't suck blood like mosquitoes; we eat them. I am a stronger flyer than Dru.

Anyway, Dru and I were hatched in a fresh water pond and as we grew we climbed out of the water shedding layer after layer of skin over more time than we will live as adults. When we were growing people called us nymphs or naiads. Those words come from Greek mythology and they are usually female but both Dru and I were nymphs and I am not a girl so I won't lay eggs. Dru happens to be a girl so she will lay eggs but not all damselflies are girls and not all dragonflies are boys.

People say I am handsome but I think my eyes are too close together. Of course, so are all dragonflies. Dru, as a damselfly has eyes wider set which I find much prettier. We both have four wings that are paper thin and iridescent, practically see through. Some people say they look like they are made of netting. I am very proud of my wings because they are quite strong so I hold them open when I rest. Dru says I am a show off and she never rests with her wings open.

I have been told that we have all sorts of nick-names all over the world. Some of them are: darning needle or devil's darning needle, ear sewer, mosquito fly or mosquito hawk, and skeeter hawk, snake doctor or snake feeder, spindle and many other variations of nick-names depending on where we live. But what's in a name?

Well I have to go now, because presently, Dru and I are over a meadow and she is calling to me that she wants to get back to a lily pad to lay her eggs.

Monica Monarch - children's story and illustration

2007-09-10T06:28:00.000-07:00

Monica Monarch

May 2007

Hi. My name is Monica Butterfly. In my past life I was an ugly, yellow and black caterpillar. I don't remember it but I am told that all I did was eat and eat and eat the leaves of my milkweed plant where I was born. I made it ugly but I didn't kill it. People and their pesticides kill my beloved milkweeds.

I ate my milkweed until I was so big and full that I had to hang upside down on a leaf. In several days I turned into a light green and gold bejeweled chrysalis. I hung there for about ten days until I showed right through the outer cover of my cocoon. Then one morning, I peeled away my chrysalis and I had to hang there, upside down for a couple of days until my wings dried. That milkweed plant was a good incubator for me. When I saw it again it was growing all its leaves back.

Now I am a beautiful monarch butterfly and I can flap my wings and soar. I also stop and land on equally beautiful flowers so I can drink their delicious nectar. I am so sorry that all I do is eat plants so I try to give back to them by helping them reproduce. Unfortunately, I don't really spread plant pollen very well. My friends the honeybees do that job much better. Reproducing is my most important job which is another reason I land on my friends, the plants. That's where I lay my eggs.

All sorts of creatures want to eat me. However, because of the milkweed that fed me when I was a caterpillar, I am poisonous and don't taste good. The birds, bugs and beasts are very sorry if they try to eat me. My plain and dull cousins just hide on plants and another of my dull cousins, the viceroy has started to imitate my beautiful looks so that those other bugs and animals also think he is poisonous. He is clever with his disguise. We butterflies never attack anyone. We are peaceful creatures.

I live in North America but I have to go now because I must travel to where it is more warm and humid to lay my eggs to hatch my ugly, little baby caterpillars. Well, maybe they aren't really so ugly. I will live longer than my monarch relatives in Costa Rica or New Zealand because the weather is always right for them to lay their eggs there and they don't need to travel to make their offspring. They can stay in their lovely little countries but they don't get to live as long when they are grown up butterflies as I do. I live for about nine months which is just enough for me.

Sprite and the Sprouts - Children's Story and illustration

2007-08-27T12:53:00.000-07:00

a few summer photos of artistic worth

2007-08-26T14:22:00.001-07:00

I promised some photos.
Next blog is a children's story with an illustration

Flox in green glass vase

2007-08-09T13:39:00.001-07:00

watercolor pencils in sketchpad

I've been spending most of my time traveling and photographing in the last two and a half months. I'll post my best photos next.

Move Something Photos

2007-06-19T11:48:00.000-07:00

From the gig on June 15, 2007 at Diablos Downtown Lounge in Eugene, Oregon
Listen to some of their music at: http://www.myspace.com/movesomethingmusic

Graduation gift Painting

2007-06-19T11:31:00.000-07:00

This was my University of Oregon graduation gift to my son. It is a painting done in acrylic on canvas board of the Black Dog Tall ships in Martha's Vineyard that he has been mate on every summer since he was 12 years old.

A Poem to honor my Father

2007-06-10T13:44:00.000-07:00

Our Father Who Art in Heaven

Ode to Alan W. Drew

By, C. Heidi "Feece” W. Drew

My father was a man of tremendous pride

For us to know and him to provide

In love and support and as a guide

I felt such privilege by his side

I’ll miss this man with all my heart

And try to do deference for his part

In offering me the very best start

To live life fully as was his art

And honorably, I will seek in my soul

As to his guidance in obtaining goals

And full filling dreams while I grow old

Facing the unknown as it unfolds

The great unknown where Daddy’s gone

Doing his grace we must carry on

In the presence of our Lord he is strong

He’ll hold us close where we all belong

My Favorite Life Drawings I've done so far this year

2007-06-07T19:52:00.000-07:00

These drawings are all done at open life drawing sessions in Wellington, New Zealand since January of 2007. They are all from 15 minute to 45 minute poses. They are anywhere from 42cm x 59cm in size - too large for my scanner and I have yet to figure out how to best photograph them. They are all on white paper.

This was done with water soluable oil pastels.

This was done with conte crayons and pencils

Conte Pencil.

Conte pencil

Conte Crayon

Oil Pastel

Colored Pencil

Graphite

Water Soluable Colored Pencil

Graphite

Conte Pencil

Water Soluable Colored Pencil

Water Soluable Oil Pastel

S.o.S.

2007-05-21T13:33:00.000-07:00

Seeds of Sustainability

2007-05-12T23:07:00.000-07:00

She's so down to earth and she's ever so gently
put her foot down so I can't quit, yet.

For Mommy - a poem

2007-05-10T15:13:00.000-07:00

Here is my Mother's Day post. This is the poem I read at my mother's memorial service and I want to remember her well always.

Mommy

By, C. Heidi W. Drew

August 4, 2004

A sweet little pixie came into the world

With big sisters there to show her the ropes

Enchantingly simple as a country girl

In natural play, no grandiose hopes

For her it was a straightforward life

With tests of wellbeing and modest style

A foster sister to ease her strife

She charmed the boys with delightful wile

Her parents died as she left the farm

To grow with students in a time of war

Her connection to God to keep her from harm

A spirit of love, deep at her core

Young men gathered, girlfriends shared

One fellow’s heart fancied this sprite

But he left for the war and she was scared

The whole worlds’ challenge was a bigger plight

She promised her love if he returned

And thus she let go of her childhood years

Her love of God never overturned

And in this security she banished her fears

When the war was over, our family was started

Then her best friend sister, was lost to ill health

But for love of our family she remained open-hearted

Her devotion was blessed with a lifestyle of wealth

She exuded God’s love as a modest wife

But with business and friends they traveled the globe

For a country girl a sophisticated life

Grounded in church her faith not to probe

A mother like no other for all five of her offspring

Our friends were drawn to her natural ease

Fostering children, animals, birds broken-winged

As a nurturing woman she could always please

And though we grew up, we continued our need

And she gave us comfort with a loving heart

And generous spirit by her every deed

She gathered us in love at her time to part

With acceptance of God, not fearing the unseen

Flirtatious and witty with a smile that glowed

She reaped the love she nurtured, she was our queen

A woman we were all so privileged to know

Mommy’s spirit within me forever will live

As my greatest lesson in how to proceed

With an instinctive approach and love to give

And a caring soul to one's times of need

Bug illustrations plus a poem

2007-05-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

This post is a spider sandwich

The Bug Can’t Bug Me, Now

By, C. Heidi W. Drew

June 4, 2003

Revised, May 26, 2007

He chased me down

Followed me home

And hung around

For I dared to roam

An evil little parasite

His invasion was sinister

He found me on my flight

No meds could I administer

For what he did to my mood

Invading my bed

The negativity that he brewed

In my confounded head

He attacked my guts

But I was physically tough

So my partner he disrupts

It worked; but not enough

Lost in his perplexing snare

Reunion delight not to enjoy

We napped, read, tried not to care

To bag the bug's every employ

And though we fought back

Against this nasty bug’s bite

Getting back on track

Dared our love’s might

Once the venom was no longer

And fully dissipated

We proved that we are stronger

Now it’s a love bug - satiated

More Sustainable Gardening Illustrations

2007-05-03T22:23:00.000-07:00

This sweatshirt was for a unit on fibers

We both felt this corn looked odd standing up so I redid it but

I like the look of the corn here better.

More gardening spot illustrations

2007-04-28T14:39:00.000-07:00

These are all done directly with watercolor pencil and watercolors on bristol paper.

Gardening spot illustrations

2007-04-24T19:43:00.000-07:00

These are a group of spot illustrations that I'm doing for my daughter's sustainable gardening curriculum with a primary school in Vermont.

Latest underwater painting of Babies

2007-04-01T21:06:00.000-07:00

"Water Babies"

$950.oo
(18" x 24" acrylic on 1.5" thick canvas painted sides)

Latest Underwater Painting of Little Girls

2007-03-02T11:55:00.000-08:00

"Gurgles"
$950.oo
(20" x 20" acrylic on 1.5" thick canvas painted sides)

Under Water Nudes

2007-02-15T14:19:00.000-08:00

"Dreaming Under"
(27.5" x 23.5" acrylic on canvas with hand tiled frame)
$950.oo

(Acrylic on canvas board with photo. collage
and hand tiled frame
35" x 28.5" appx.)
$1200.00

"The Three Graces"
(Acrylic on canvas board with photo. collage
and hand tiled frame
35" x 28.5" appx.)
$1,200.00

"Oz"

(18" x 24" acrylic on 1/2" thick canvas with painted sides)
$600.00

"In Between"
(18" x 24" acrylic on 1/2" thick canvas with painted sides)
$575.00

"Below the Surface"
( Acrylic on 16" x 20" canvas board)
$500.00

"Looking Up"
( 24" x 18" acrylic on 1/2" thick canvas with painted sides)
$575.00

" Torso"
(18" x 24" acrylic on 1/2" thick canvas with painted sides)
$600.00

"Gary"
(Sold at the New Zealand National Portrait Show)

" Down Under"
(18" x 24" acrylic on 1/2" thick canvas with painted sides)
$600.00

My poet's back!

2007-02-07T15:46:00.000-08:00

The Denouement

By, C. Heidi Drew

2-7-2007

The story rolls along with bumps in the psyche

It reaches the climax of apprehending a long fought battle

Won, though unsure of who to thank for the apex

She begs the denouement be gentle and true to her drama

Stories of cherished ones have wrapped before her

The legacies may have been no greater than their contribution

To the experience of the beloved ones' minds

Reactions that lead to future fabrications

Watching the last, close episode of the preceding generation

She ponders her majestic finale and feels no control

Of the production in which she will take part

But it is her soul asking it to be an art

Though there may be no grand recognition of its value

She will ride the wave knowing it was beautiful

And her offspring will think it was true

And beneficial

The latest underwater pregnant nude

2007-02-07T15:37:00.000-08:00

"Submerged"
(18' x 24" acrylic on 1 1/2" thick canvas)
$600.00

Sample Illustrations for Learning Media, NZ

2006-12-19T12:37:00.000-08:00

These illustrations go with a children's story about the eruption of Mount Tarawera on 10 June, 1866.

Colored Christmas Cards

2006-11-24T20:33:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

Digital Art

2006-11-22T15:56:00.000-08:00

Compact Disk Cover

Self Portrait

Birthday Card

Baby Shower Invitation

"All of Us"

****

My Kids' Birthday Cards

My Kids' Graduation Announcements

Missed this graduation so I sent this, as well.

Paintings of my Children

2006-11-16T18:07:00.000-08:00

Siblings

Hangin' Out

Hangin' In There

Three Wee Dancers

all four paintings are acrylic on canvas

Black and White Illustrations

2006-11-09T18:56:00.000-08:00

Christmas Cards

*********

Halloween Card

This goes with a Picture book story, I wrote :

Great Grandpa's Balloons

By, C. Heidi Drew

When I was one year old Great Grandpa came to my birthday party with a big red balloon that floated on a string…just for me. Mommy tied it to my walker and it followed me everywhere I went.

When I was two, Great Grandpa came to my birthday party again. This time he used a walker. Tied to his walker he carried a blue floating balloon. He untied it from his walker and tied it to my wrist.

Last year he came to my third birthday party in a wheelchair. This time he brought me a yellow balloon. I climbed upon his lap with it and he told me that a balloon that stays up in the air is called a helium balloon. Helium is the air inside the balloon that makes it float.

This year I turned four years old. Great Grandpa could not come to my birthday party because he had to stay in bed; but he sent me a purple helium balloon with a big smile face drawn on it. He must have known I was sad that he could not come and wanted to cheer me up.

Two days later all the helium snuck out of my purple balloon and it did not float anymore. That was the day Great Grandpa died.

"Where did Great Grandpa go?" my little brother, Timmy asked.

Daddy told us he went to heaven. Heaven is a beautiful place somewhere up in the sky where God takes care of us after we die. All is good and happy in heaven. Great Grandpa feels much better now.

Then I asked Mommy, "How did Great Grandpa get up there?"

She did not know. Timmy thinks God let down a rope and Great Grandpa climbed up to heaven. I think he floated up there in a balloon.

Then Daddy gave me a green helium balloon and Mommy gave Timmy an orange helium balloon and we all climbed up to a hill-top field. There we let the balloons go…to float up to Great Grandpa in heaven.

Now, Mommy is going to have another baby soon. Her tummy looks like a big pink balloon. Maybe God is sending the baby down to us from Great Grandpa.

Invitation

This sold to a private collection

Pop-up First Birthday Card

2006-11-09T18:26:00.000-08:00

Ant and Chipmunk

2006-11-09T13:36:00.000-08:00

These were prospective characters created for someone else's children's book idea.

"Puff the Magic Dragon"

2006-11-08T20:35:00.000-08:00

These are both double page spread Illustrations for a picture book of the song lyrics by, Peter, Paul and Mary

A Divorce card

2006-11-08T19:55:00.000-08:00

This card I made about a 200 year old house in Belmont, Vermont in 1992

The Retreat

Your ghost haunts this place of beauty and peace

The phone's piercing ring at my slumber won't cease

This porch reverberates your insincere hand

Loneliness echoes from the untended land

the birds' twitter tells me to feel happy and free

Fresh spring smells are beckoning me

The mouse in the wall scratches at my woe

With black bats of the night why did you go?

A Children's Picture Book Dummy

2006-10-30T17:14:00.000-08:00

This is a dummy of a children's picture book I wrote and illustrated; in other words a rough draft of my idea. I worked in several media to demontstrate various techniques I could use. I scanned the images and only cleaned them up a little.

Mommy Has a Full-time JobCover

Title Page (1)

Copy write (2)

Dedication (3)

Page 4, 5 spread

Page 4

Page 5
Mommy, Mommy, Mommy I heard lucy yell from her crib this morning. (That's just about all she knows how to say.)

Page 6, 7 Spread

Page 6
"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!" Mommy shouted back but I know she can say more than just that.

Page 7

Page 8, 9 Spread

Page 8
At breakfast Lucy wouldn't eat her cereal so Mommy made me eat it and she wouldn't make me French toast because she said we would be late for nursery (pre) school.

Page 9

Page 10, 11 Spread

Page 10
When Mommy didn't come on time to pick me up from nursery (pre) school, I decided to walk home. When she found me she got mad. "It's too dangerous a road to walk on all by yourself!" she said. "You frightened me."

Page 11

Page 12, 13 Spread

Then when we went shopping, Lucy cried the whole time (page 12)
so Mommy let her have a cracker but she wouldn't let me get the cereal I wanted (page 13)

Page 14, 15 Spread

Later when Mommy burned the cookies we were making she also burned her hand on the pan (14)
so she made me eat mine outside all by myself (15)

Page 16 & 17 Spread

Page 16

Page 17
When I came back inside with mud on my hands, Mommy made me take a bath in the middle of the day! And, when Lucy made a mess in the tub, Mommy made me clean it up.

Page 18
Afterward she let me watch T.V. until Lucy turned the volume all the way up.

Page 19
Then Mommy screamed, "turn it off!" and she made me show Lucy her books instead.

Page 20, 21 Spread

Then I drew a picture for Mommy to make her feel better. She said it was beautiful and hugged me (20)
but then she got angry again when she saw Lucy's drawing. (21)

Page 22
When Mommy took the wash out of the machine this afternoon, she found her new sweater had shrunk, so she threw it out, but it might have fit me.

Page 23
Then the phone rang. Mommy tripped running up the stairs to answer it and I heard her say a naughty.

Page 24
"Okay dear, bye" was all she said on the phone and then she hung-up and cried. "Daddy won't be home until after dinner," she told me "but he will tuck you in."

Page 25

Page 26, 27 Spread

Page 26

Page 27
We had to eat eggs again for dinner because Mommy forgot to thaw some meat. And she made me do the dishes.

Page 28 & 29 Spread

Later she sat down with me to do some mending but she sent me to go brush my teeth. (28)
When I was in the bathroom she changed the T.V. channel from my show to some dumb educational show. (29)

Page 30, 31 Spread

Page 30
Page 31

I'm glad you're home now, Daddy. You're always nice. Mommy gets so crabby sometimes and you are the one who works all day.
Then Daddy told me, "Mommy works all day, too. She has to take care of me, you, Lucy, the house, the clothes, the food, school and herself. She works all day, at night and on weekends, too. She never gets time off from her work even when she doesn't feel well like today.

Page 32
Your mommy has a full-time job.
Page 32 (alt. ending image)

Back cover

Dinner Party Invitation

2006-10-20T12:21:00.000-07:00

Greek Mythology Paintings

2006-08-02T22:38:00.000-07:00

A Series of 16"x 20"Acrylic on Canvas illustrations
$275.00 each

Artemis

Self Portrait

Iris

Narcissus

Tethys

Hermes
(30cm x 45cm canvas board)
$200.00

Psyche and Cupid

Eros

Aphrodite

Colored holiday story cards

2006-07-26T15:17:00.000-07:00

Here are a few more colored cards that tell a story for holidays. I'm sure you can guess which holidays.

Dancing Bird Cards

2006-07-24T21:14:00.000-07:00

Here is a set of dancing bird cards I created with acrylic and ink on illustration board.

Toucan Tango

Swan Samba

Stomping Stork Flamenco

Tap Dancing Penguins

Flamingo Ballet