Birds of a Feather~ The Elves Tale

"Birds of a Feather~ The Elve's Tale" Graphite 9" x 12"
“Birds of a Feather~ The Elves Tale”   Graphite 9″ x 12″

In the Age of steam, man discovered how to harness the energy of heated water and began to invent many marvelous and some not so marvelous contraptions that allowed them to do things only dreamed of in the past.  The elves, ever watchful of the goings on of mankind, took notice. Some of them who had long been envious of the fairy race’s ability to fly, saw an opportunity to finally join their cousins in the air.  They began a mad dash to see who would be the first to build workable wings.  And really, “workable” was the key word because many elves perished dreadfully, failing and falling after leaping from the highest trees only to have their flimsy, fluttering wings tear and finally collapse.

After a short time they realized they needed a stronger, more durable material to use in the construction of the wings that would grant them the freedom of flight.  And that is where they began to follow the folly of mankind, beginning the slaughter of field mice and other small creatures to obtain their skins for making durable leather wings.  In doing so, they were finally able to achieve their eons old dream of soaring through the skies, but at what cost to their souls?  The elves had always been the guardians of nature.  What now?  What else would they be willing to destroy next in their selfish pursuit of unnatural desires?

Copyright 2013 Ann Gates Fiser All rights reserved

Fird the Turd Bird

Fird the Turd Bird
Fird the Turd Bird

“Who is that?”,  you might be asking. Allow me to introduce you to Fird the Turd Bird, a portrait of the personification of my inner critic, the nemesis  and arch enemy of my muse,  Musetta.   Through the ruse of expectation (of how my painting should look) and comparison (how it actually turned out)  Fird got loose last evening and ran amok, so that when it finally came time for me to do my end of the day sketching he was in full on attack mode, pecking,  biting and scratching at me.   “You’re lousy at painting!  You’ll never be really good at it! Blahwdy blah blah and on and on it went.   Musetta was in full retreat, weeping and hiding in the deep dark  sad shadows of my psyche.

So I did the only thing I could do in order to keep the discipline of drawing every night.  I started sketching Fird (although I didn’t know that was his name at the time).  As I drew he became quieter and then finally completely silent, because being the stupid vain creature he is, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t criticize his own portrait.  And that’s when I knew had him!  At last I drew a spiked dog collar around his scrawny neck, attached a heavy chain,  which in turn was added to a spike in the cold hard ground. He was my bitch now.

But knowing him to be the sneaky elusive creature that he is, I knew that I needed to take further precautions, so I have given his likeness to the CPI (That’s  Bureau of Creativity Investigation)  and they have issued a wanted dead or alive poster which now hangs on the cork board in my studio, to remind me to be on the lookout and at the first vague hint of the stench of him that tells me he is once again on the loose and lurking about, I can take the proper steps to catch and put him back in his place, chained up and and powerless to wreak misery on me and Musetta.

I sincerely invite you to name and describe your inner critic and share it in my comment section.  And if you draw it put a link to it.   That way I and others can spot your inner critic  and report it before it has a chance to work it’s nastiness on you and anyone else who happens to get in the way.  Thank you.

Copyright 2013 Ann Gates Fiser All rights reserved

My friend Erin Hogan responded by drawing this guy

Among the Lilies

"Among the Lilies" Graphite 9" x 12"
“Among the Lilies” Graphite 9″ x 12″
While out walking today in the woods and meadows near my home,  I came upon a pond that contained an abundance of water lilies in full bloom.  I spied at first what I took to be an incredibly colorful butterfly sitting on a pad.  Without taking my eyes off of it I crept closer and closer to get a better look.  And to my shock realized that this was no ordinary butterfly, in fact it was not a butterfly at all!  For there in broad daylight was a baby fairy on all fours.  It was only then that I noticed that the woods had grown deadly quiet, with not even a breath of air stirring and rustling the leaves of trees.   I felt as if I had eyes boring into my back, and the energy in the air was extremely tense.   I immediately looked around to see who or what was there and saw nothing.  When I turned back the little fairy was gone and the normal sounds of the forest had resumed.  Although I was disappointed not to be able to observe this bit of magic any longer I also felt blessed to even have had that brief glimpse.

Copyright 2013 Ann Gates Fiser All Rights Reserved



"Wicked" 9" x 12" Graphite
“Wicked” 9″ x 12″ Graphite

Fairies have the much deserved reputation for being mischievous.  I’m sure dear reader, that I am not alone in having had things disappear and reappear in the exact same place you had looked only minutes before, or tripped on what you were sure had to be a root sticking up out of the ground only to look and see that there were absolutely no protuberances for you to have fallen over.  I could go on but I’m quite sure you have your own multitude of occurrences of being messed with by the Fae.  Ah well I would like to mention one more…I’ve become quite sure that all my many missing socks have been made into soft warm blankets for fairy babies.  But I am sure you would also agree that though however mischievous they are,  the vast majority are innocent of heart and are only having a bit of fun with you. Which brings me to what I really want to discuss, which is …dare I write it…bad fairies.  Because you really don’t want to draw attention to yourself from THEM.

I can’t help but wonder if they were always wicked or if in their very long lives of hundreds of years something happened that twisted them so badly that they just went over to the grimly dark side, or were they born that way?  Maybe a clan of bad fairies?  My that’s a frightening thought.   Although, all the fairy tales I’ve read about bad fairies in, they seemed to be operating all on their on.

So what I really want to alert you about is,  that all those things that happen to you that are … let’s say… unfortunate,   like having someone whisper into your spouses ear that you are cheating,  expensive jewelry disappearing,  NEVER to be found,  checks bounce when you know you made that deposit,  a stair missing one moment (when you place your foot there, and gone the next,  runners in your hose,  food found on your shirt right before the big presentation for the bosses,  your  speedometer that’s off by 10 miles an hour at the exact moment that you are pinged by a radar loving motorcycle policeman,  etc…..  well I am here to let you know, to warn you really, that you have been punked by a wicked, evil, malevolent, awful, terrible,  bad fairy.  What you need to do, to get off their !@#$% list is this.  Make an appeal to the good Fae by leaving cookies and milk out. (Remember that Santa is an elf? Well it works for fairies too.)  Say aloud to the air around you, “Please good Fae,  rein in your sister or brother who is making my life miserable!”  Now this is the important part, if  your request is answered and you will know that it has been by a change in fortune, you must leave out cookies and milk for the next six weeks.  If you don’t do this,  you risk having both the good and the bad fairies making your life a living nightmare.  Good luck! You have been warned…..

Copyright 2013 Ann Gates Fiser All Rights Reserved

The Return of the Traveler

"The Return of the Traveler" 9' x 12"
“The Return of the Traveler” 9′ x 12″

Mr. Bevenson was the consummate traveler.   He’d been everywhere that was anywhere.  He’d even journeyed to both poles. What he was particularly gifted at,  was meeting the local people and being invited into their homes.  He liked seeing how others in the world lived,  how they decorated their homes, what they ate, and what stories they told ( if he understood the language, and usually he did because that was his other talent).  He learned languages as easily as some people are able to learn a particular melody.  He had friends around the world and received numerous letters from far off places everyday.  Whenever he went away he had the postman stop delivery otherwise his box would be jammed with letters, with even more stacked in high piles around his small mailbox.

However much he enjoyed traveling, it was always a big thrill for him to come home.   He could then look at his comfy home and his beautiful things collected from all over the world and see them with appreciative eyes.  In fact, if you asked him he would tell you,  that was the reason that he left as often as he did.  So that all the world including his own home was always new, fresh,  and amazing  to him.

Is it time for  a journey?

Copyright 2013 Ann Gates Fiser All rights reserved

Lark Song

"Lark Song"~ 9" x 12" Graphite


I have drawn Tiar again.  Today he is at the top of the highest hill,  playing  for the larks.  His tunes are so captivating that no wild creature can resist the sound of his silver flute, not even a creature who is also given to magical song.

To see an earlier drawing of Tiar click HERE

Copyright Ann Gates Fiser 2013 All rights reserved