The Best Coffee

Everybody has a favourite coffee shop. That place where you can get the perfect cup of coffee and really launch your day in the right direction. The best part of your morning, that first cup of coffee. Be they big or small, old or new, busy or not busy, we love our cafes. With this post I would like to talk a bit about my favourite coffee house.

The Up Tempo Cafe

The Up Tempo Cafe is located in a hitherto unknown and neglected little neighbourhood on the outskirts of Gwelf where the old city runs creatively alongside the river. This trendy establishment is owned and operated with humour and style by the now regionally famous five Tempo sisters. These five industrious girls have, in less than a year, taken their small, off the map neighbourhood and tuned it into a cultural hub and buzzing hive of activity simply by selling good coffee. Well, very, very good coffee. The best coffee.

Tempo One

Tempo Two

Tempo Three

Tempo Four and Five

What makes their coffee so special and different ? Let's put it this way - the java we all know and love gives you a sudden blast of energy and zings you awake in the morning, which is exactly what we want it to do. But, it can also make you nervous, jittery and jumpy if you drink too much and this is precisely what we don't want it to do. On the other hand, Tempo coffee brings on an enormous feeling of gratitude and well being, which is a completely different kind of rejuvenating energy, and of course, being grateful will keep you from over indulging. So don't worry, you won't go off the deep end. Instead you will find yourself truly appreciating your surroundings and a strong desire to cherish and protect them will grow in you. You will start paying attention to the details and aesthetics will begin to matter. Who can say what kind of primeval faerie glamour the Tempo sister are weaving into these exotic blends but whatever it is sure seems to be working.

Poet

The neighbourhood has been completely transformed. Artists, poets and creative spirits of every stripe are migrating to the area. Improvements and restorations are happening all over the place. Fences are being repaired and gardens tended to. Window boxes filled and litter picked up. There is colour everywhere now - murals, flowers, decoration and Topiary enliven the streets. Even the Luthiers have come back !

Luthiers

Muralist

And yet, somehow, surprisingly, magically, the people who oppose this point of view are unable to find the cafe - more of that faerie glamour I shouldn't wonder. They just never quite seem to make it. They get lost or forget what they're doing and go home, their dirty towels and unwashed dishes a more appealing option than some vague notion of a coffee shop they've heard about somewhere. There seems to be an obvious shortage of vandals, negatorians and nay-sayers in the Tempo neighbourhood.  Oh well, we'll just have to make do without them.

Vandal

So if you manage to make it over to the Up Tempo Cafe be sure to bring your journal, or your sketchbook, or your tin whistle or whatever it is that you do because chances are very good that you will be inspired. At the very least you will have a terrific cup of coffee.

Peace be with you and happy travels.

Cheers.

The Fortune Teller's House

With this post I thought I might bring your attention to a small, rustic tree house just east of Gwelf on the Old North Road. The Fortune Teller lives here with her two sisters and it is their business to tell you the truth. If you are not interested in the truth you will pass this house and continue happily on your way in comfortable and ignorant bliss. If however you are interested in the truth you will proceed with caution to the front door. By the time they get you to the back porch it will be too late. You are going to hear all the truth you could ever hope for whether you like it or not.

Shevka

Shevka is the middle sister. She reads the cards and tells the fortunes. Shevka is the one most people remember. She does not speak directly to you but to herself. Grenka is the youngest. She makes the wine and serves the wine. She asks the questions and does most of the talking.  People like talking to Grenka. Penyoval is the oldest sister and the one no one sees. She is very powerful. She makes and lights the candles. Candles infused with particle magic that play music in your head and unlock the doors in your mind. Candle waxing is the most subtle and difficult of the fortune telling arts. The cards and the wine and the candles will make the truth unavoidable. You will speak it and you will hear it. There will be no stopping it.

Grenka

Penyoval

Some people are okay with that much truth but not everyone is. The truths are told and then written on paper and placed in small clay pots. The pots are taken down to the bridge spanning the ravine and dropped over the side. This completes the process.  For some, the fortunes are too much to bear and they throw themselves over the side instead and plunge into the gorge below. The sisters cannot help this or stop it. It is not their business what you do with the your fortune but only that you hear it once you cross the threshold. The bones and broken pots are piling up down there. It's a very lonely place.

Please proceed with caution. Be well and go in peace. The sisters are waiting.

Getting Sorted

Big apologies for the uneven posts lately. Just working some kinks out of the system. In the meantime, some recent sketchbook work.. More arthritic vagrants with beards.

Cheers.

New Lavender Image

Here is a new illustration for the Irish Faerie Tale project I'm currently working on entitled Lavender Blue and the Faeries of Galtee Wood. This is the point in the story, near the beginning, where things are just starting to get interesting. Lavender is encountering what appears to be a unicorn - what she thinks is a unicorn -  in a moment she will find out what it really is. The story kicks into second gear, right about here - poor Lavender.

More soon.

Travel Update 4 - Drawing

I believe I have mentioned before how much I enjoy getting out for a little impromptu life drawing. It's such good practice. Give me a sketchbook and a public place and I'm set for hours. There is just no replacing the kind of observations one can make when drawing in real life from real people. Any place will do - shopping malls, libraries, parks - wherever the people gather. This is of course true when traveling on "the other side" as well. The Faerie Realm is a great place to observe and draw people, which brings me to today's post.

One sunny afternoon last autumn I found myself at a table in the yard of the Forget Me Not Inn on the Old North Road near Gwelf. There were several occupied tables nearby which inspired me to take out my sketchbook and make a few notes.

What first caught my attention was a table of very intimidating looking old women who were having a lively meeting at one of the out lying tables near the trees. There seemed to be an unusual number of birds and cats in their general vicinity who were making themselves quite at home on and near their table. The other thing I noticed about them was that there drinking glasses remained full despite the fact that no one seemed to be serving them, and I shouldn't have to tell you that they were working their elbows quite regularly. I couldn't help but start drawing these ladies right away. What a group of terrific old characters they were.

The importance of discretion in a situation such as this cannot be overstated. It's best if you don't get caught drawing in public, especially if alcohol is present or the subjects have spell casting capabilities. You could have your sketchbook torched, your fingers frozen or your eyes crossed for even the mildest misdemeanor, and heaven help you if some more grievous offense, real or imagined, was suspected. I continued on cautiously from a safe distance.

 

There was also a table of monks close by who seemed to be more than interested in what the old ladies were up to. They were taking notes and whispering intently among themselves as they kept their disapproving eyes on the boisterous ladies across the way. The brothers were all drinking what is locally known as "Tar Ale" which is very similar to Guinness in most respects but somewhat sweeter and a tad thicker. I also was drinking this, although it had not yet started to show in the drawing.

The last of the occupied tables was populated by a group of Foresters who I had seen earlier in the day clearing some recent storm debris from one of the local side roads. Many hours of wood chopping and heavy hauling had led them here for dinner and drinks. They were all wearing their distinctive Forester caps and boots. They were not showing the least bit of interest in either the monks or the ladies. To a man they were interested in only one thing - our joyful and charismatic waitress, Tandy Loomis.

Foresters

Tandy was a fabulous server who had an uncanny ability to know exactly what you wanted and when you wanted it about ten seconds before you did. She made a lot of money in tips as you can well imagine. Tandy was cute and funny and made you glad she was your waitress. She was really working her magic on those poor Foresters who didn't stand a chance in the face of all that natural faerie glamour. I could only guess at how far under the spell I was. There was no way to know, but I did know this - I wanted to give her a tip, as much as I could afford. Luckily for me I was smart enough to bring no more money with me than I was prepared to lose.  Experience had taught me that lesson. Caution is always required.

Happy Travels everyone and peace be with you.

More soon.

Cheers.

Travel Update 3 - Booby Trap

Traveling on "the other side" can be a lot of fun and very exciting but it can also be tricky or even dangerous. Today I want to talk about a close call I once had and how falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book meant disaster for someone else.

It was a cold and wind swept Saturday afternoon in late November.  I was doing my best to keep up with a kid in front of me whom I had been following for the past several hours. He was leading the way south along the Kenilworth Station Road, heading for the now popular King's Head Tavern, a cozy little pub still a few miles ahead. I was hungry and cold and wanted nothing more than to get there as soon as possible, sit by the fire and have a hot meal.

We had reached a bend in the road when he suddenly stopped. As I closed the gap between us I could see that his attention was fixed on something sitting by the side of the road. I got closer and was able to make out a wicker basket containing a half dozen apples, apparently left there by the owner who was presently out of sight but likely close by. I had been warned about situations like this but had expected to encounter one so soon in my career. I was just about to say something clever like " I wouldn't do that if I were you" when he reached for one of the apples. He must have been as hungry as I was because he took a bite, but then immediately vanished. His now empty clothes, with nothing to support them, fell to the ground in a heap. His cap hit the ground last and rolled into the ditch.

Instantly my ears began to ring and there was a strong smell of sulphur in the air. The tell-tale signs of a dark magic spell having just been worked. I was rooted to the spot. A wave of vertigo was overtaking me. From the trees at the side of the road emerged a very unwholesome looking woman, her eyes looking straight at the pile of clothes nearby. Her skirt came right to the ground but could not hide the fact that her feet were large and bird like.
She moved right past me and out onto the road where she picked up the clothes and cap. She then went back into the trees to whatever evil purpose she had planned for the boy. Something very lethal had just crossed my path and only luck and a bit of good advice had saved me.

I was now alone on the road. The sun was going down, it was getting colder and I was immobilized.  The heavy cloud of sulphur was beginning to clear and I started moving, somehow making it safely to the King's Head Tavern. I booked a room upstairs and spent a sleepless night watching the road from my window. There was no sign of the woman or the unfortunate boy. I left the next morning, but only when the sun was well up and there were other travelers on the road.

The King's Head

It was very unlucky for the boy that he had not been made aware of this kind of trap - all too typical on the roads "over there". Fortunately for me I had been warned and I'm passing the information along to you - safety first.

More soon and happy traveling.

Peace be with you.

Travel Update 2 - Albion Bridge

We started our travel posts last week with a trip to the Belle Flower Inn and I thought it might be fun to head back that way again this week to investigate one of the local landmarks. I was directed to the Albion Creek Bridge by Wilton Plowright, a pipe smoking card reader and guest at the Belle Flower whom I encountered the last time I was there. Albion Creek Bridge was his recommendation and I now pass it on to you. I'm sure you will find it as interesting as I did. I would suggest packing a small lunch as you will have to hike several kilometers east down The Old North Road to get there. This I did bright and early the next morning.

Wilton Plowright

I had no idea what to expect when I arrived at the bridge but was told, with a wink, to plan on staying for a little while and so I found a pleasant looking bit of grass and made myself comfortable. Before long a bearded fellow turned up and stationed himself on the bridge overlooking the creek. He stayed put and I waited, watching and listening. The sun was warm.There were several long billed grackles in a tree nearby chattering away. The bees were buzzing and the dragon flies hovered on the breeze. It was very relaxing. I was content, and so apparently was the chap on the bridge whose eyes were closed.

Albion Bridge

 I was beginning to feel quite at home in my little spot on the sun lit grass when I noticed that all of the toad stools in the immediate area had little faces carved on them. Someone had obviously sat here, for some hours, and carefully carved a unique little portrait on to each mushroom cap. Who would do such a thing? It then began to gradually dawn on me that the muttering birds in the nearby tree were actually speaking to each other and that I could almost make out what they were saying. They hadn't sounded this way before. But when did they stop their bird chatter and begin speaking in words? I couldn't recall and was surprised that I had missed something so obvious. They were chatting back and forth in a calm, conversational tone. If you weren't actually paying attention to the words they were saying you might almost think they were a couple of lawyers casually discussing a case. But I was listening to the words. They were speaking in bizarre poetic riddles with odd foreign accents. None of it made any sense and yet I felt as though I was right on the verge of understanding them. I was still examining the mushroom heads when it occurred to me that the artist must have sat right here, presumably listening to this same nonsensical dialogue, and created these little caricatures. Had the grackles inspired this little flood of creativity? Who could say? I was beginning to get rather drowsy. Listening to these birds was starting to have an intoxicating effect on me. I nodded off. Their voices diminishing into the hazy background of sleep.

Long Billed Grackles

I awoke sometime later to find  my shoes on the wrong feet and that I was wearing someone else's socks. I quickly checked all my belongings to see if there were any other unexpected changes, but there were none. I had been lucky. The grackles were still there but had fallen silent. The man on the bridge was gone. I was feeling completely calm in spite of recent events and even mildly euphoric. It felt as though a message had somehow been conveyed to me and that I now knew a secret, although I couldn't possibly tell you what it was. The good mood lasted all day. I went back to the Belle Flower, had dinner and slept soundly. The next day I had an exceptional breakfast, left the Belle Flower and continued my journey in high spirits.

Happy adventuring everyone and peace be with you.

More soon.

The Belle Flower Inn

Okay, something a little different this time. -  bit of travel blogging from the Faerie Realm. I've been meaning to get to this for some time now but kept getting waylaid by other projects.

The Belle Flower Inn

I thought today we might stop by the Belle Flower Inn, which of course is not really an Inn at all but a lovely little Bed and Breakfast. The Belle Flower is located on The Old North Road between Chatham and Gwelf and was at one time a favourite stop over establishment for travelers in the area - that is to say, if there was an occupancy to be had at this once popular spot.

As it turns out the rumours of a haunting at this charming old inn have, by all accounts, turned out to be true and some poltergeist activity has been recently reported. I myself have stayed at the Belle Flower several times and although some odd occurrences were noted, it wasn't anything alarming enough to keep me from returning.

Francis Brookwater - owner of the Belle Flower.

A missing toothbrush and a muddy foot print on the duvet were not sufficient to curtail my visits. However, events of a more serious and bizarre nature have recently been reported. One guest, Pedal Mueller, was seen levitating several feet above her bed while sleeping and later awoke to find herself inexplicably in the garden. Calming elixirs were provided and she made a swift and complete recovery. Tales of an even more sinister nature have also been heard but I wouldn't want to rush to any hasty conclusions.

Luckily for us business has slowed down somewhat and a room is now a lot easier to obtain at Ye Olde Belle Flower than it used to be. I'm quite sure that the more adventurous of us

Pedal Mueller - Guest.

would not hesitate to enjoy the hospitality of this once fine and noble house.

So the next time you find yourself trekking on "the other side" and looking for a place to bed down for the night, you could do a lot worse than The Belle Flower Inn..

And a word to the wise - breakfast will not be served past 8:30 so you'll have to get up early. You won't be sorry. Try the toast !

Happy travels and peace be with you.

Goblins and Witches

Some work from a recent pencil session. It has been decided that along with the story illustrations I will be doing for the Irish Faerie Tale book I'm currently working on, I will also do a page of Faeries and critter designs from Irish mythology. Here we have a few pages of potential characters

These designs are all in the goblin-witch category. These are a lot of nasty and unclean things lurking around in the shadowy hills and murky forests of Irish Lore and we're just getting started.
More soon.

Peace be with you.

Troll

This guy came up in a recent doodle session. I was thinking about trolls and hobbits and how cool the new Hobbit movie could be. So here's a troll for you in hopeful anticipation of the new Hobbit Movie. We only have a year and a half to wait. I hope I can hang on.

More soon.

Peace be with you.

Leaf and Wing

This watercolour is a couple of years old. It was done as most of my pieces are - an experiment to try out a new approach. In this case I was painting directly on to a watercolour block, which is unusual for me. I most often work by tracing from a light box. I was also trying out these wing shapes - kind of leaf like and spindly. I still like them and use this wing style when I can.

I've just added her to my Etsy store which you can check out here - http://www.etsy.com/shop/LarryMacDougallArt?ref=pr_shop

More soon.

Peace be with you.

Finn 1997 - 2011

Finn was our dog. A 14 year old Australian Shepherd/Border Collie cross - smart, loyal and full of energy. Everything you could ever want in a dog. He wanted to be where we were. Every piece of art I have done in the last 14 years has had his spirit in it in some way.

I am lucky enough to live on the edge of the Niagara Escarpment in Southern Ontario, which means it was my privilege to walk Finn over those steep, wooded hill sides every day. Our walks through the woods in all weather and all seasons filled my imagination with the wonders of the natural world and inspired many of my drawings and paintings.

We lost Finn a few days ago. He was an amazing animal and a spectacular companion.

So long Buddy Boy. You have left a big hole in our lives and will be greatly missed.

Peace be with you.

Recent Sketchbook

Well, it looks like Blogger as somehow lost my last post so I think I'll just throw it up again. If it should happen to find its way back to the blog then I suppose I will have to delete one of them.

Anyway, here are a couple of sketchbook pages from a recent doodle session. At the top is an old Troll Midwife and below her is a Gnome Witch. Just some simple 3B pencil on printer paper.

More soon. Peace be with you.

Cheers

Arctic Myths - Grizzly People

I believe I've spoken of these supernatural characters form Arctic mythology before. The Grizzly People are typical examples of the myths and legends told by the Inuit people. The Grizzly Beings are animal, human hybrids which feature prominently in Inuit lore.There are also Wolf People and Seal People. Here the Grizzly People are large human characters with bear like attributes and modes of behavior. They hunt and eat humans,  rob graves and scavenge human camp sites. They are very large and very dangerous.

It was decided that we should have a Grizzly Being on the title page of the book we're just finishing up and so this first illustration shows just such a one, menacing and striding toward us, having just decided we are something worth adding to the menu.. He is big and rather misshapen and carries a large Inuit spear, which is just as likely to be used for digging as it is for hunting. I like to depict these fellows with bags or satchels because they are scavengers and I can imagine them traveling about with bits of old meat, bone and other edibles picked up on previous foraging operations.

In this second illustration we see a Grizzly Man with a fresh body he has just pulled from a grave.  He is scruffy and dirty which is typical for them and much in need of the bath he will never ever have and the dentist he will never ever visit.  These pictures are for a new collection of Arctic stories from Inhabit Media entitled The Shadows That Rush Past, A Collection of Frightening Inuit Folktales. These stories are historically the kinds of stories told to children in order to teach them survival lessons and this book is for children also - Inuit children. There are plans to release these books in English but as far as I know not many of them have yet been translated.

You can find out more about Inhabit Media here - http://www.inhabitmedia.com/

I'll have more for you shortly

.Cheers

Dreaming of Spring - Sketchbook 2

I believe I've spoken before about how much I love to draw with a simple old bic pen. The bic  glides smoothly over the cheap printer paper I often use and leaves a nice clean blue. There's no erasing with a ball point pen so you can't get too careful or fussy. You have to think on your feet when working this way and a little coffee will help to keep you alert and fresh. I often like to start these doodle sessions by drawing the frames on the page first and then challenge myself to put something, anything into each one. This of course leads to a certain amount of repetition but it can also yield happy accidents and pleasant surprises. You have to be willing to take whatever you get when working this way but it's often worth it because there's nothing better than a new idea.

Peace be with you.

More soon.