For the Love of Art



When I grew up we never had to lock our house at night. In the summer we played outside all day, riding our bikes and catching lightning bugs in a jar. When it was really hot, a gang of us would head to the swimming hole and take a dip in the cool water. A few of us were brave enough to take the dare, climbing up the slippery bank, grabing ahold of the rope overhead, and swinging into the deepest part of the Mahantango Creek. Those were the days. Our parents weren't concerned about where we were because the neighborhood was safe and everyone looked out for each other.

"The Carefee Days of Summer"
This portrait was commissioned by
Dr. Carole Patton
Millersburg, Pa.
Copyright © Wiseman Graphics



"Crayfish Creek"
 commissioned by
Dr. Carole Patton
Millersburg, Pa
Copyright © Wiseman Graphics

 It was common practice for our parents to leave the keys in the ignition of the car until we became teenagers. Earning the right to drive came with rules. My Dad made me paralell park between two large garbage cans until I could do it without knocking both of them over; a skill I found very useful when I headed off to Art School in the city of York.

Leaving the country life as I knew it was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life.  The new sounds, the smells, the feeling of being closed in by a city busseling with traffic and people;  all for the love of art.  Never questioning my quest to fulfill a dream, I overcame each new fear with the determination to become an artist. Watching my father run a successful business taught me many things. One of them was hard work and determination are never easy, but it's always worth it.  The things you dream of don't usually get handed to you on a silver platter.  My pursuit didn't come without many obstacles.

Two weeks after I started classes at York Academy of Arts, my roomate and I were driving back to school after lunch when a small child ran into the side of my car.  Seeing her lifeless body lay in a pool of blood is an image only God could erase from my memory.  The five year old girl, who was known for darting in front of cars survived, but not without life long concequences. I eventually overcame the trauma by asking God to take away the nightmares that I suffered. I found strength in knowing that it simply wasn't my fault.

Art project deadlines soon had my attention and I was captivated by color theory, art history and anatomy.  Learning to draw an unclothed model was awkward at first. In time I didn't see a nude body, only form, light and shadow.

One day I noticed a very attractive man who never seemed to get over the fact that he was drawing a nude figure.  He managed to pull his easel into the corner of the room where he would hide behind his drawing and occasionally peek out to view the subject matter.  His conservative actions were not only amusing but attractive to me and it wasn't long till I discovered that he wasn't nearly as uncomfortable interacting with a clothed female.  He seemed more facinated by my artwork than I was. His art box was meticulously arranged and everything had it's place. Mine was a mess and even had a dent in the side of it from forcing it shut without making everything fit.

 It wasn't long till we discovered our shared passion for photography. We took advantage of every opportunity to leave the city and capture some good photos.  The only thing more fun than taking pictures was developing them in the dark room.  That is a story for another time. To read about how we moved back to the country read my blog titled, "Days with Tucker".

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Traces of Summer



Sunday Afternoon on the Back Porch


This old house has been a refuge for so many people over the years. I love it when my kids come home. Especially in the summer time. My daughter and son-in-law like to take time out of their busy lives to relax on the back porch with their dog. Porch sitting has been a family tradition in this family for many years. We live in a world of instant gratification.  Fast food, instant messaging and texting are changing our way of life. I for one will do everything I can to keep porch sitting a tradition that lives on in this family.


My mother enjoys a moment with nature



Slow down you move too fast, got to make the morning last.  I've been humming that song all day. In this fast paced world that we live in, it's easy to forget how life used to be before cell phones, instant messaging and television.  My grandparents wouldn't have known the first thing about using a computer or texting.  When ever we came to visit Grandma she would say, "You people are always in a hurry! Come and find a seat."

 


My family enjoying the late afternoon sunshine.

My Brother and Uncle Albert

My neices, the melon heads.

Jim Brown and my husband Jeff

 
Don't miss the life your dreaming of when it's right under your nose. We weren't designed to live at such a chaotic pace. Even Jesus took time to get away from the crowds of people that followed him. He knew where His strength came from. I have a little quote posted in my art studio.
"7 days without prayer makes one weak." I'll be the first to admit that I get into a routine that doesn't include prayer time. Even the good things in life can crowd out our good intentions. A book titled "The Tyranny of the Urgent" talks about how we shouldn't allow interruptions to dictate what we do all day. Just because the cell phone rings doesn't mean we have to drop what we're doing to answer it.

 I'm sure my Great Grandfather who lived in this same house many years ago spent many hours cutting down trees and chopping wood to keep his family warm. What would he say if I showed him a remote to light a fire place? And Grandma spent many days during the summer tending a garden and canning. I admire people who can nurture a garden. My first attempt at gardening was pitiful. I should have paid more attention to my Grandma.

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Day's with Tucker

"Mommy all I want for Christmas is a little kitten", my only child says to me two weeks before Christmas.   Part of me wanted to jump in the car and take her to a pet shop and the other part was saying, "What's Dad gonna say about this"?  So I decided to go to the pet shop and then call Dad.
During the 30 minute drive my mind drifted back to when we lived in the city. Every night I listened to my daughter praying, "dear Lord please let us move to the country so I can have a kitten. Amen".   A couple weeks later an opportunity to purchase my Grandmother's Homestead came up. The property  was in need of much work, but the only thing my five year old saw was a big yard and a chance to have a pet.

We arrived at the pet store where my daughter would ordinarily gaze at every creature with excitement and have something to say about each animal. But this time was different. Her mind was on finding a kitten. We walked to the center of the store where there was one cage with two cats. One nice one and one mean one.  Our first attempt to pet "Tucker" was met with a nice bite to the hand.  "Well we'll have to talk to dad about this", I said. So I called him and told him what we were doing.  He was not happy as I expected. So we left the store, letting the owner know that we might be back.  "Mommy I want the nice one", was all that was said on the way home.  The silence was deafening.  I thought what did I get myself into.

 When we got home I had a chance to speak to my husband at length about our desire to have a cat. He reluctantly agreed to the deal if it didn't effect getting school work done.  So I called the pet shop and asked about the two cats.  The owner said we have one left.  Without thinking I said, "we'll take it!"  When we arrived at the pet shop the only question in my mind was, "is it the nice one or the mean one that was left".  It didn't take long to figure out that no one is dumb enough to pick a mean cat when there's a nice one sitting next to it.  So into a box he went and we headed home with my daughter's Christmas wish.  The cat was unusually quiet on the ride home.  I expected to hear repeated meowing during the entire trip.  We stopped twice to check if the cat was ok because he was so quiet.  He seemed happy to be in a box.  It was at this point that "Tucker" won my heart.  I figured any cat that could find contentment in an enclosed dark spot must be in need of some love.

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Home Town Soldier

           SPC Edward S. Kieffer

When my brother enlisted in the United States Army shortly after the attack on the World Trade Center, I had no idea what this meant for our family, since my focus was on fighting a different battle.  I had been diagnosed with cancer earlier that year and was on a regiment of chemotherapy and radiation.  My brother wanted to spend as much time with me as he could before he left for Boot Camp so he drove me to my chemo treatments. The time we had together was very precious to me. I guess when he left home we were both wondering the same thing. Would we ever see each other again? We both fortunately completed our regiments and my brother asked me if I would put his cord on his uniform at his "Turning Blue" ceremony. So we borrowed a van from a friend and the whole family headed to Ft. Benning, Georgia to witness this milestone in my youngest brother's life. I was never more proud of him in my life.  I prayed for him every day. I asked God to put a hedge of protection around him and keep him safe.  A number of weeks went by and he was still in a holding pattern, waiting to be deployed.  After six weeks of waiting I received a phone call from my brother. He said, "I didn't join the Army to stay in the States, I want to go where I'm needed".  I said, "Maybe my prayers are keeping you from being deployed. I'm going to start praying differently. Instead of praying for my brother's protection I asked God to give him the desire of his heart.  He called me in 2 days and said, "I'm going over"!

While he was in active duty I was fortunate enough to be able to instant message with him.  It helped me to keep my mind off of my own issues and focus on meeting his needs through prayer.  I remember many nights I couldn't sleep, so I'd go to my knees in prayer for him.  A few days later I'd get a message about a mission he was on and how God spared him from an unfortunate incident. 

After his first or second return home, I was able to take some photos of my brother in his uniform. So when he returned to active duty I began working on a portrait of him.  Most people don't realize how much time goes into creating a portrait. Especially one that an artist is not being paid to do.  But I felt that my brother was worthy of that honor. And although I haven't found the time to add all the ribbons and metals that he has earned since that time, I wanted to share his military portrait with other family members who are waiting for their loved ones to come home.  I would love to honor your soldier with a portrait.  Email photos to dw@wisemangraphics.com  or visit http://www.wisemangraphics.com/ and click on the Portraits to see a portfolio of my work.  As long as God gives me life I will use my talent to glorify Him.

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Why I Paint My Heritage

Five generations have lived in this old homestead, affectionately known as "The Golden Hill" in Herndon, Pennsylvania. Our home overlooks 40 miles of picturesque mountains. The trees up here have roots that have grown deep into the ground to withstand the wind. Over the years, many things about the house have changed, but one thing that has never changed is the foundation. It has stood the test of time. A firm Christian heritage was planted here over 100 years ago. Being an artist in such a beautiful location was a gift from God. From the time I was 12 years old, all I wanted to do was be an artist and paint. When I met my husband in Art School, I never imagined that I would be moving from the city, back home to my family homestead. That was 20 years ago. In that time I have published 13 limited edition prints for folks who are proud of their family heritage. You can view these prints at http://www.wisemangraphics.com/. At some point I hope to create a series of prints which represent my own family heritage. But for now I enjoy doing it for many other people.

My great-grandparents started a family here. Every summer friends and family would gather for picnics and countless guests have spent the summer in this house. Back then, if you could find work on a farm, the pay was a roof over your head and three good meals a day. Great-Grandma was always cooking and baking. Every Saturday Grandma Clara had to trim the wicks on the coal oil lanterns through out the house as well as pick berries for pies and help Great-Grandma with the garden.

Grandma Clara and daughter Jenessa Wiseman



By today's standards my Grandparents would have been considered poor, but I overheard my soft spoken Grandmother correcting a person who thought my Great-Grandfather went outside in the snow in his bare feet because he was too poor to buy shoes. I saw my mild mannered Grandmother point her finger in their face, and she said, "Let me tell you something, WE WERE NOT POOR!. We had every kind of fruit and vegetable you can imagine. I gathered the eggs while they were still warm from the hen and I milked our cow for the morning's milk. We had everything we needed right here on this farm. We went to town for 3 things, coffee, sugar and flour.

But everything else was right here on this hill". Grandma went to be with her Lord who she loved so much at age 102. Grandma always praised us loudly and corrected us softly. That person must have pushed her a little too far.

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