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The images below represent just a small sampling of what is available. For further
information, current prices and availability of any Bev Doolittle prints or originals
please call B & R Gallery and Framing at All Bev Doolittle images reproduced on this web site are copyright The Greenwich Workshop. All rights are reserved. |
19 1/2" x 19 1/2" |
Bugged Bear Anyone who has ever spent any time in the great north woods knows what a plague the stinging flies and insects can be. Insects bother animals, not just humans, and the grizzly bear is no exception. The size and strength of the grizzly is no match for the persistent buzz and bite of the flying insects. Here a grizzly lies among a profusion of summer flowers stoically trying to ignore the flies, gnats, bees and mosquitoes until their season is over. Bev Doolittle |
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Season Of The Eagle In the life of an Indian, every new day, every encounter with bird or beast, and everything he owned or wore had religious significance. The Indians prayed each day to the One-Who-Made-All-Things, the Crow Ah-badt-dadt-deah. Since all creatures were made by the Great Spirit, the Indian considered the animals and birds with whom he shared his home not only sacred, but brothers. Each creature had unique powers and skills and the Indians believed that God had placed them on the Mother Earth to teach them valuable lessons. The eagle embodied courage and speed, skills the Indians needed for successful war and hunting, and eagles were revered as messengers of the Great Spirit. In the highest passes of the Rocky Mountains, spring arrives late in the year. As the snow melts, swollen, rushing streams and rivers tell the Indians that passes to more fertile hunting grounds will be open. The melting snow patterns speak to the Indians also. These are messages from the Great Spirit. It is because of the Indians' special reverence for the eagle that I have chosen to incorporate him into my most resent painting, Season of the Eagle Bev Doolittle |
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Whoo!? It was ten o' clock at night and still light. My husband Jay and I were sitting quietly beside a campfire at the edge of a small lake in a remote area of northern Canada. It was July and the northern latitude gave us light until eleven p.m. The brush pilot who had flown us there in a small plane had long since left. We were the only people camped around that small, isolated lake, the only people in the whole valley. You can imagine our surprise at hearing what sounded like a large rock being thrown into the lake. Closer scrutiny revealed that a large beaver slapped his tail on the surface of the lake was the "rock thrower." He was telling us that he was alarmed and displeased at our having camped so close to his home. The next day, we found his stick and mud lodge along the shore line. On subsequent evenings we would crouch behind the lodge and take photographs as the beaver family emerged to gather twigs from a nearby stand of aspen. Our chance encounter with the beavers led me to wonder about other accidental meetings. I let my sense of fun and whimsy be my guide and Whoo!? is the result. Bev Doolittle |
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