For artists interested in using color in a new way, this two-part book offers a fresh, comprehensive approach to understanding color in painting. Part one starts with the basics and teaches, rung by rung, many concepts including color, value, and the use of red, yellow, and blue to build three-dimensional form. Tools given in part one form the foundation for part two's lessons in "temperature painting," an original method created by the author using warm and cool colors. The instructions are easy to follow, step by step, and fully illustrated with beautiful finished pieces by various artists and the author, an accomplished artist who teaches workshops nationally and whose commissioned portraits and paintings are in many private collections.

In this, Julie Hanson's second award-winning book, the poems inscribe deep stillness on a world of harmonies in motion. Whether composed on modern objects, say a vacuum--part pet, part sculpture/sprawled awkwardly, still shrieking"--that evokes a sudden onrush of sobbing, or the notional movement between a plastic bag, a lawn and a return from a France not yet visited, these poems circulate among the senses as moments that pass and are recalled. Hanson's poems investigate interiority as they resonate in the ear to excite the eye. Together, her poems illustrate the movement between and among seasons and tasks, work and leisure, solitude and people, and all through the private life as it intersects with the products and noises of industry and nature. Hanson's is a poetic realm that includes the head-splitting bright white screamings of an Indy 500 race into a zen garden, this realm we all inhabit where birdsong and squeaky water meters improvise together.

Do you believe in living, breathing ANGELS? This story may convince you they exist. Enjoy the miracles that The Evans Terrace Girls invoke. This is a true story. In approximately 110 homes in an enclave of Lake Mary within a few years, seven or more parents died of unrelated situations including car accidents, cancers, and other unexpected events. As people mourned and grieved, rumors started of a curse on the land; the neighborhood children feared their parents were next to leave for the afterlife. Suddenly, a lemonade stand catapulted some of the young girls to lead their peers and the adults out of grief; they witnessed many minor miracles through this action. What brought on the proverbial lemonade stand? After another dad dies, the kids were told by peers that our subdivision was CURSED The children- already leery- felt panicked any time a father or mothers left their sight. Their parents attempted to arrange grief counseling into their elementary school. The counselors volunteered services; however, this story took place a few years before events such as Columbine High School. Not understanding the implications of the many deaths on her system, the principal thwarted these efforts. THE CHILDREN AND THEIR PEERS NEEDED GROUP INTERVENTION Finally, God showed the way out of grief and how to bring back a semblance of 'normal, everyday life.' A simple and cliche LEMONADE STAND was the start of HIS guidance The proceeds bought groceries for a family that just lost their dad. The children's works of love brought about many minor miracles that are shared by telling you their story. This is the true story of how these girls' efforts help their community through the grieving process. Did these girls find a way to end the NEIGHBORHOOD'S curse and grief? Let's just say, "Hopefully, this tale will inspire others suffering loss to take up a cause and take back control of their own life." This book is a must read for anyone grieving.

Julie Hanson's award-winning collection, "Unbeknownst," gives us plainspoken poems of unstoppable candor. They are astonished and sobered by the incoming data; they are funny; they are psychologically accurate and beautifully made. Hanson's is a mind interested in human responsibility--to ourselves and to each other--and unhappy about the disappointments that are bound to transpire ("We've been like gods, our powers wasted"). These poems are lonely with spiritual longing and wise with remorse for all that cannot last.

"The Kindergartners" begins, "All their lives they've waited for / the yellow bus to come for them," then moves directly to the present reality: "Now it's February and the mat / is wet." Settings and events are local and familiar, never more exotic than a yoga session at the Y, one of several instances where the body is central to the report and to the net result ("I slip in and fold / behind the wheel into the driver's seat like a thin young thing: / My organs are surely glistening. This car was made for me."). These poems are intimate revelations, thinking as they go, including the reader in the progress of their thoughts.