In a few months, A Prairie Prayer will be published by the North Dakota Institute of Regional Studies.  It’s a collection of poems that continue the ideas first introduced by South Dakotan Bruce Roseland in The Last Buffalo.  You may recall my story of meeting Bruce and his wife, Barb, at the Book Fair last September.

I’m excited because they asked me to illustrate this time.   Just ten little drawings, but golly, I am proud.  Since 2002 I’ve tried painting, but always considered my true, natural talent to be the simple work of pencil on paper.  Apparently, Bruce Roseland thinks so, too. The little gopher at the top of this note is one of the sketches.

Bruce’s poems are about surviving the (simple) country life in South Dakota.  There’s plenty of appreciation for the ancestors who settled the land, the generations who stayed through thick and thin, and the trials of today.  I  read his first book in one sitting;  smiling and nodding my head in agreement.  He has a great knack.

Look for The Last Buffalo in your local bookstore, or you can order it directly at www.ndirs.ndsu.nodak.edu/publications .

 If you  call 701-231-8338 to order, you will talk to a real live person.  They’ll even chat about the weather.  Tell ‘em I told you to call.

I hope you get a chance to read Bruce’s poetry.  I’ll keep you posted when A Prairie Prayer is available.  I always dreamed of being part of a publication,  just thought it would be as  writer, not illustrator.

If you want to write a little critique or a full blown review, I’d be happy to publish it on this blog.  Just click on “Leave a Reply” below and start typing. 

Thanks.  mlt

Posted on February 8th, 2008 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Village Life, Artwork | 1 Comment »

Fresh with the vigor of New Year’s resolutions we started out on our first Sunday hike.  Above you see Max the Wonderdog and I full of energy as we charge down the path toward Doty Springs.  It’s a nice Sunday stroll in the Black Hills National Forest, but the first couple of switchbacks remind you that you are definitely headed down. 

As we started down the road, my husband Pat reminded me to save energy for the climb back out.  We’ve been coming here for about 20 years, but we always seem to forget what a “gasper” the return trip can be.

At the bottom we found a running stream of icy-cold mountain water.  There was a thin layer of ice in the shady spots, but the winter has been very mild so far.  As always, we thought we’d retraced our earlier route, but found a few variables in the path.  This time there seemed to be a very clear road to the springs, but we couldn’t find the spot where the stream dives underground with a gurgle.  We wandered about, found some familiar landmarks and realized that there are about four different ways to get to Doty Springs.

We got separated for a bit and Max and I took a hike with a more upward slant.  When I got to the top of the hill, the thick stand of Ponderosa Pine made it difficult to see, but I could tell that there was a complete oxbow in the stream.  On previous trips we had walked along the stream without realizing that we had gradually curved around a hill.

When we rejoined Pat a few minutes later, he was surprised to see us approach from the right rather than the left.  Even when you know where you are going and you feel you’ve arrived, there are surprises along the way.

We finally got back to the clear path where we knew we were retracing our steps.  As always, we promised to come back more often, marveled at how much things had changed yet other things had stayed the same.

I have a number of projects in the works.  No telling which ones will pan out.  I’ll try to remember my lessons from Doty Springs: there’s more than one way to get there. 

When we got back to the steep climb of the switchbacks, our aged canine companion had to be carried.  When you’ve been hiking for several hours the last thing you want to do is carry a 22-pound dog, but there was no other solution.  I confess that Pat carried Max and got back to the car several minutes before I dragged my weary carcass up the last  half mile.

Another reminder:  save a little extra energy for the last stretch.

Hope your New Year has started out well.  Feel free to share a comment with our growing circle of friends.

Posted on January 12th, 2008 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Village Life, Artwork | Comment Here »

Thanks to the good people who have ordered custom Christmas cards, I’ve been in full production this week. It’s great to have friends with fresh ideas of how to use my artwork for their holiday greetings. 

As I tussled with fonts and design ideas,  I was struck by how quiet the printing process is compared to my days in the newspaper biz. Just the click of my computer keys, the gentle piano music of Jacqueline Schwab, and the clickety-click of Max’s toenails as he moves from the cushion in front of the door to the cushion in front of the fireplace.

Twenty years ago I was in my halcyon days editing a small weekly newspaper.  Print production then was very noisy.  The pressmen  wore earplugs as they tended the big monster that pushed the ink onto the page.  Once all the pages were laid out, proofed and sent back to press, I loved to go back and hang out with the press guys.  Sometimes they’d have me “cut color” for the big ads.

I breathed in a lot of learning in the cavernous backroom that housed the press.  The smell was a combination of the ink, the paper and the lubricants that kept it all rolling.  But the scent was only an accompaniment to the chorus of sound produced by that big press. 

It seemed like a locomotive steam engine sort of quietly chuffing while the press guys, garbed in blue coveralls, crawled around checking this and that.  Finally, the signal would come from Dave, the head pressman,  for everyone to stand back.  He’d press the button. There would be a warning sound. Then the big drums would begin to turn with a slow ka-lump, ka-lump.  The pressmen would race along the side (as if they too thought it was a train that might get away) checking levers and chains.  Then a second nod from Dave and the ka-lump would speed up to a single syllable klump-klump-klump, joined by a harmonious clackety-clack and you could hear the news, the news, the news, coming your way, way, way. 

Communication was reduced to hand signals or cupping your hands around someone’s ear and screaming sounds.  It was a wonderful, whirling dance and at the end the newspapers streamed out in a marvelous pattern of that front page photo jumping out again and again and again.

Ah, the sound, the smell, the feel of the press.  It climbed in through your ears and made you tingle all the way to your toes.  Although there wasn’t a wind, you felt like you were walking into a gale that threatened to peel the skin right off your face and blow your hair into the next county. I loved press day.

Today, it’s a simple matter for one artist with a good digital camera, a speedy computer  (and the patience to work through software programs) to produce a custom print order.   It’s progress. It’s good.

But I am beginning to understand why my dad kept his draft horses  long after he had turned to tractors  to farm with. 

Posted on December 2nd, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Village Life, Artwork | Comment Here »

Quickly.  Pick up a pencil and draw a pig.  Sounds simple enough, but one soon confronts problems.  Are the ears triangular or square?  Does the tail really curl?  Does a pig have knees, and, if the pig is walking away from you, how do you draw those knees?

     Those are the questions I’ve

 dealt with in the past week as I struggle with my graphite sketches.  Most of us can imagine a common animal like a pig, but to draw the particular details is difficult without a living example.  I, for one, don’t happen to have a pig handy. 

Don’t you dare say, “Well, just google it”.  Trust me, I tried it.  You’ll get plenty of pigs, but not exactly what you need.  Fortunately, a friend brought over some children’s story books that helped.  At the top of this message is the first sketch (with an improved ear).  Next I drew that pig as a simple line drawing to clear the clutter.  Finally, I drew it again with graphite and charcoal - got the ear right, I like his shadow, but how come his nose got so long in the final phase?

Back to the drawing board is no idle expression at my house.  I’ve always admired the works of Maxfield Parrish and learned that he often used models and photographs.  He had a complicated contraption set up so that he could pose himself and pull the string when he was in the right position.  If you study closely you can actually tell which figures in his storybook illustrations are actually the artist himself.

For studies of people, I don’t have to struggle with posing  for shots and developing film.  After a day of trying to figure out how a hand would clasp a long skirt, I turned to my ever-ready stream of models.  The next piano student arrived, I tossed fabric into her hand and stepped back to get the proper angle.  Once I had that shot it was easy to draw.

With Christmas approaching, I have a few commissions on tap for pencil sketches of children.  That is still one of my favorite projects:  looking at a good photograph with plenty of shading and capturing the likeness with soft lead.  I shall keep struggling with the pig and other creatures of the imagination.  Perhaps I’ll send a letter to Santa asking for some drawing lessons  - or a yard full of animals when I need a model.

Happy Thanksgiving to you!  If you want to comment on this article or any related topic, click on the comment line below.  Thanks for checking in. mlt

Posted on November 14th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Artwork | Comment Here »

        My friend Ed Martley has a great new project started.  He is gathering material for a book on South Dakota during World War II .   The working title for the book-to-be is “WAR KIDS: The Littlest Generation.” 

He is seeking  stories from South Dakotans born between 1930 and 1940 who have memories of those years.   Martley, born in 1938, recalls the duties of his father who was an air-raid warden in Redfield; the time a damaged one-man Japanese submarine was on display at the local theater;  his growing understanding of the grief of Gold Star Mothers; and the near-worship of Franklin Roosevelt.
    Martley says his generation will be the last generation to have actual memories of those war days, and it would be a shame to see them lost. 

    Martley is a life-long journalist, author of three other books, and he and his wife, Suzanne, own and operate Top Dog Publishing Inc. in Rapid City.
      If you have a story to share contact him:

 emartley@aol.com

 605-716-1889

 or write him at

 2718 W. St. Patrick St., Rapid
City, SD 57702.

Posted on November 9th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Village Life | Comment Here »

 ”Hast Thou Seen Him?” was inspired by this photograph. The original is very dark because we truly had “one candle power”.  I lightened it a bit so you can see the background.

Check the blog entitled “Any Suggestions” for the rest of the story.  Still taking suggestions for this year’s card illustration.

Thanks for checking in. mlt

Posted on October 27th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Artwork | Comment Here »

This week I motored into the Black Hills to visit friends Suzanne and Ed at their cabin.  They’d invited a few folks in to lunch with artist Jim Mott, a soft-spoken oil painter  sojourning across America by bartering artwork for a meal and a place to sleep.  I’d read about his itinerant artist project and was pleased to see his little 6″ x 9″ works of oil on conservation board spread out in the October sunshine.  You can read about the project on his website - go to www.jimmott.com .

The other guests played “South Dakota Shuffle”:  if you visit long enough you’ll find your connection.  That’s my newfound friend Lois admiring Jim’s paintings in the photo.  We exchanged ideas on the local art scene and found mutual interests.   Suzanne (who looks more like my sister than any of my sisters)  was stunned by the “Connected” blog a few weeks ago.  I wrote about meeting Bruce and Barb Roseland at the Book Fair. The Roselands learned about the blog when they drew up a chair at Suzanne’s table that same weekend.  South Dakota is indeed a village. 

Lois hails from the West Coast, Suzanne from the East Coast, Ed is a West River guy, I’m an East River gal, but we all found common ground in music and art.  Our stories and laughter floated up among the spindly spruce trees and disappeared against the almost painfully blue sky… not a cloud to be seen.

As we cleared the dishes, Ed shushed our chatter so we could hear the “klurr-klurr” of migrating birds.  We tipped our heads  and strained eyes and ears to follow the sound.  Ed said they were cranes. I thought they were geese.   Jim, the boy from New York City, was just flat amazed that we could even hear the faint cry.  We were all thrilled when we glimpsed the “V” formation that means winter is near.

I  figured Jim would paint some of that wonder in the Black Hills landscape.  Heard that he did a little something with Ed’s faithful old pickup truck “Blue”.  Guess we might get to see it on the “Today Show.” That’s what they tell me.  (You need to read that last graph with the accent of Grampa McCoy saying, “No brag, just fact.”)

Comments on the Comments. The responses to “Connections” just keep coming. Wow, that little pebble made a lot of rings.  Today’s story is just one small slice. 

The Christmas painting “Hast Thou Seen Him” prompted a lot of questions, so I’m posting  the original photograph in another blog.

Thanks to everyone who is responding - old friends and new.  Keep in touch and click on the comment line below to toss in your ideas. 

Please tell your friends about our communications and invite them to visit www.marielouisetesch.com.

Thanks. mlt

Posted on October 26th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Village Life, Artwork | Comment Here »

  It is time to think about Christmas.  For me, that means getting inspired to create a new card.  The painting above was my first Christmas card creation.  It is entitled, “Hast Thou Seen Him?”.

It’s been amusing to hear what other people think this painting illustrates.  Some are quite adamant about their version.

Here’s my story:  the man in the foreground is one of the three wise men.  He is returning to the East and  has stopped at a home where they stayed when they were following the star.   The woman with the candle, having heard the story of the Christ child, has rushed to greet the wise man and find out if the tale is true.  The man has just pushed back the curtained door of the tent.  The woman, a little out of breath, has whispered, “Hast thou seen Him?”

I wanted the painting to look like the simple illustrations that I remember from my Bible story books.  Thus the simple colors of red and green and just a suggestion of light and shade.  The painting is rather plain, but it translates well when I make copies for greeting cards.  (Yes, I make my own cards.)

The deeper meaning?  The original photograph was taken just at dusk in a small chapel where our friends, Bob and Frances, lived.  I had settled down to play the piano; Bob was getting ready to sing.  While my husband Pat sought the light switches,  Frances had lit a candle and handed it to me.  Before Pat flipped the switch, he snapped this tableau.

Bob was a retired Methodist minister: a tall, stately gentleman with a quick wit, a wonderful laugh and a terrific singing voice.  He had been retired for almost 15 years when we met him, so we weren’t part of his flock.  However, he and his wife did “soften” us a bit.  (No boring details here.  Just accept the fact that I am a “lapsed Lutheran”  who attended 8 years of private religious school, including boarding school. )  For me, Bob really was the wise man of God who still had the goodness to bring the message to a miserable sinner. 

 If I had asked Bob, “Hast thou seen Him,”  I am sure he would have replied, “Yes, I know that my Redeemer liveth.”  - without hesitation.   Isn’t that the true message of Christmas?

My imagination simply wiped away the piano and the modern accoutrements surrounding us.  As I painted, the tent emerged from the canvas and the story grew in my mind.

This week I’ve been working on sketches of animals: long-haired sheep and cattle.  Don’t be surprised if they turn up in a painting soon.  I’m still waiting for inspiration.  When the “muse hits” I’ll be slapping paint with abandon.

Now it’s your turn.  If you could paint a scene for a Christmas card, what would it be?

Yes, this is a shameless ploy to get you to click on that “Comment” line at the bottom and join the blogging generation!  BUT, I really do want to know what you think would make a great card.

Thank you to everyone who has been writing - in the blog and in direct e-mails.  I’m beginning to enjoy this.  You can check out the responses by clicking on the comment line.  It’s interesting to go back to the first blogs;  this week various people from around the world have caught up with us.

Hope you are having a great week.  Thanks for checking in.  mlt

Posted on October 11th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Artwork | 3 Comments »

Jane & Marge                         The Roselands              Barb & Gordy 

This week I must write about life beyond art.  Some folks say the state of South Dakota is actually like a small town; most of us are related or connected in some way.   I think of it as a friendly village and a trip to the Book Fair in Deadwood (September 28-29) supported that idea.

Like a pebble dropped in a pond, my circle of acquaintances floated out into ever-increasing  circles.   People I had known from teaching, Public Broadcasting, newspaper days, theatre, writing, music, college, graduate school  - all converged on the tiny town of Deadwood.

Chief reason for attending was to help my sister Jane Green set up a booth to sell Plain Jane’s Misadventures.  She was accompanied by friend Marge, who was a high school teacher where I first taught over 30 years ago. Marge’s younger sisters were my college buddies.  Jane, Marge and I had a grand time comparing our lives as girls who grew up on the farm in the halcyon days of American agriculture.

Next to Jane’s booth were the Roselands with Bruce’s book The Last Buffalo.  My college roommate, who now lives in Colorado, had recommended this book in a recent e-mail.  While Bruce signed his first sale of the day for me, we chatted about our mutual acquaintances.

Event coordinator was Sherie DeBoer (another college classmate). I got in line to congratulate her on the new appointment as head of the South Dakota Humanities Council.  Upon seeing me, she shrieked, “Barb is here…there’s her booth.” I followed Sherie’s  pointed finger.

Indeed, Barbara Schnell, who had shook the dust of South Dakota from her shoes years ago, had returned with a novel to peddle.  Her husband Gordy was along and we reminisced about high school debate tournaments and college days, compared notes on home remodeling,  and laughed at how far our livelihoods had strayed from our college majors.

Since I had lived in Deadwood for a few years in the 1980s, and my husband grew up in Lead, there was plenty of “visiting” going on with locals.  I even got to see the homecoming parade.

I know the people who read this blog are smiling and nodding. Many folks leave for greener pastures, but they return for reunions  — or book fairs  — or buffalo roundups.  Being from South Dakota can be hard to explain in other places.  Staying here takes strength, too. 

I’ve finally reached a point where I ’m comfortable in my own skin and amazed with the many lives I have lived in this “Land of Infinite Variety” (whatever happened to that slogan?) .

This week’s blog will be going out only to those who subscribed and a choice few that may be interested in this particular topic.  I appreciate your sending it on to others.

Thanks for taking the time to comment on changes with the website.  Next week we’d better start talking about holiday paintings and the latest exhibit.

I encourage you to click on the response line and write a few words.

Thanks. mlt

Posted on October 4th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Village Life | 3 Comments »

This is the season of joy for me - rich colors of brown, red and gold; cool breezes that require a sweater or jacket and long afternoons to brew a pot of soup or bake cookies.  We begin to turn inside and organize our homes and hearts.

 Today I sallied forth with my canine companion to gather nuts and leaves for a little arrangement.  I blame it on too many years in school:  first as a child creating a project, later as a teacher bringing beauty to the classroom.  Today there are stores crammed with artificial stems of this and that (more like flotsam and jetsam), perfectly shaped pumpkins and a plethora of rag doll people.  I prefer the fields and forest - like the lady in Harvey Dunn’s famous work,  The Prairie is My Garden.

Last night’s breezes left a treasure on the ground this morning: the chestnuts are falling.  As my piano students exit the kitchen door, I share the joy of cracking open the spiny covering to reveal the glorious  seed inside.  The smooth beauty of the brown nuts, the perfection of the tree’s leaves (always in a formation of seven), the unworldly orange of the leaves for such a short time delights me every day.  There is so much design and beauty in nature, how will I ever capture it on canvas or paper?

The chestnuts are a good start for planning next month’s class.  On Saturday, Oct. 20, I’ll be conducting a workshop for adults at the Spearfish Art Center Gallery about painting with acrylics.   There’s a group of paints called Transparent Iron Oxide in red, yellow and orange that lend themselves to the autumnal beauties.  It is time to plan and learn.

NEWS ABOUT THE BLOG

D.A. Swantz of Minnesota won a set of greeting cards depicting The Windows of St. Martin’s because she was the first to blog the correct answer.  Taffy Tucker deserves something for the most creative answer.  See their responses in the first blog comments.  Thanks to everyone who has been responding and checking out the workings.

I will try to write a weekly notice.  It may not always be about artwork, but I hope to entertain and pique the curiosity of my friends.   Be sure to check out the updates on the website and, please, tell your friends about it. 

 www.marielouisetesch.com  Just click and go. 

 To comment on this blog letter “Autumnal Joy” click on the comment line below.

Thank you.  MLT

Posted on September 19th, 2007 by Marie Louise
Filed under: Artwork | 3 Comments »