Red Hills, by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson
Rumors fly like frisbees in a small town, and frisbee has it that, a few years ago, Bruce Willis was checking out the area just south of our little town as a possible venue for his daughter’s college education. Can you imagine how the desultory, sad little Parents’ Day festivities would have seen a surge of participation if Mr. Willis showed up to eat little crackers and crumbly goat cheese?
Perhaps it was all of the open space that scared Bruce off — although a man like this is not easily deterred by stalks of wheat and herds of deer.
Given the amount of collateral damage done in Mr. Willis’ presence during his latest movie, Red, we should be grateful that the deal didn’t go through. Beautiful Red Hills like the ones in the Norwegian Artist’s painting would be literally red, blown up by a flying semi-truck hurtling through the air. Although everyone in the truck — such as Bruce and his co-horts, would escape unscathed, the truck, and the hills, would not.
You don’t have to be the well-heeled neighbor of Bruce Willis — or Mary Louise Parker, John Malkovich, or Morgan Freeman for that matter — to own a painting like Red Hills, because the paintings at Steve Henderson Fine Art are not only beautiful, they are affordable. Regular, every day people who do not drive flying, exploding semi-trucks, can own original, fine art.
Go for it. Check out the website; look at the paintings; write us about the ones you like and we’ll see what we can do about your owning one.
Winterscape Farm by the Norwegian Artist, Steve Henderson
Ensign Chekhov did not find a permanent seat at the console until well into the five-year mission of seeking out new worlds. Although Lt. Sulu to his left kept busy advancing the ship to warp speed, firing on Klingons and Romulans, and setting course for Mark 7, 332.592, Ensign Chekhov spent most of his time looking intense, scowling down at the console (“Vhat are all these blinking lights for? Vhat vould happen if I pressed this button?”), and muttering.
He is perhaps best known for his Rrrrrrussian accent, achieved largely through exchanging his w’s with his v’s, and wice-wersa.
In the recent J.J. Abram’s Star Trek movie (surely, there’s a sequel on its way?), Chekhov’s accent, which according to our Tired-of-Being-Youngest progeny is simply a stronger version of the real thing, is almost insurmountable. Even the computer had difficulty accepting his access code — “This is Weser Weser Tree” or something of the sort — and his brilliant analysis of how to solve the problem of the red matter in the hands of the mentally disturbed Romulan approximated the diatribe of precautions rattled on in a prescription drug commercial.
All the same, Chekhov is an endearing character, an emotional polar opposite of the icy cool blue Mr. Spock. His childhood was spent, not in an English boarding school where they would have hammered away at and eventually destroyed that accent, but in Russia itself, where his family lived on a small farm, like Winterscape Farm, in the country. His hot-headed personality kept him warm in the long, cold winters, and on snowy afternoons he trudged about after the cows, muttering, “Vhere are they? Oh, how I vant to be in Star Fleet!”
Winterscape Farm is sold. More original artwork by the Norwegian Artist is available for view and sale at Steve Henderson Fine Art Online Gallery.