A Wild Patience

With appropriate nod of copyright credit to Adrienne Rich,  I carved this quote on many a chair slat over the years. Today, as I begin my day in the studio office, it is a trusty touchstone.

a wild

The entire rest of the studio, who am I kidding, the ENTIRE studio is in chaos. Stacks and piles of creative detritus have displaced any semblance of order and calm. Remember that bucolic “winter of hibernation” that I so piously settled into…well all that intense creative energy leaves mountains of not so creative debris in its wake unless you clean up after yourself. Which…I…do…not.

Someday, very soon, there will be a reckoning. But here I come to find that it is already March. MARCH for goodness sake. The mantras of inward patience crash headlong into the outward pressures of deadlines for show dates and demands from galleries to provide new work…which is a stupendously wonderful place for an artist to be do not get me wrong…but hello…March !

This would be a good time to let you know that my summer show at the Granary Gallery has been moved up this year. I’ll be reminding you, and my own self, again, but for those who do make travel plans to join us for the openings I wanted you to have a heads up.

The date this year will be July 12th.

And that would account for the WILD part of the patience.
One less week of prep time does mean I have to move some serious paint around now and I have been putting in some very long days and nights at the easel.

I’ve got a new theme going this year, stay tuned, and, as the finished paintings begin to gather in the front corner of the studio, I have to laugh at those muses. While all around me is this insane mess and clutter…each of the panels, when I stop to look, has a quiet calm space and a slightly more muted palette which settles my eye and quiets my mind.

Make of it what you will…I’ll keep plowing ahead until the board of health comes tapping on my chamber door…wait…is that ? …

NO…it’s just Wolsey …ever and always my feathered muse.



In a light filled stable kinda mind…

Stable Light

Immersing myself in the world of Bill Copperthwaite with the arrival of Peter Forbes and Helen Whybrow’s new book, A Man Apart.


The earth is shifting below my studio feet…
and I suspect it will be life altering.

More to come…


Final three…and a brand new painting !


2012 – Trinity

Painter’s Notes – click here

Vive la France

The Smock

2013 – The Smock

Painter’s Notes – click here

Our little pip.

The Muse

2014 – The Muse

Can’t believe it’s been almost a year since this twinkle faded. He’s just over my shoulder now, with every brushstroke.

And one more…


Whitewashed – 24 x 16.5

This dear little spring house is on the farm just at the top of the hill. I’ve been meaning to paint it for 25 years. Finally got around to it.

OK that’s it. NOW back to the easel for me. Stay safe all you east coasters…there’s a mighty storm brewing. Great painting weather !!!!!


Almost forgot…day 4

Vineyard Vanitas

2009 – Vineyard Vanitas

Painter’s Notes – click here

This is the year of the birds.

sarens pups

2010 – Margo, Tallie and Nina

Three paintings of Saren’s pups, and Finnegan’s best friends.


2011 – Firewalker

Painter’s Notes – click here

Because I’m feeling ornery and peckish.

Today I nominate Laura Roosevelt. Would love to see more of her reflection photographs.

Day the third


2006 – Fiddlehead Primavera

Painter’s Notes – click here

With snow in the forecast, on this deep winter day, a breath of spring is enchanting.


2007 – Mood Swing

Painter’s Notes – click here

It was fun to reread these painter’s notes and remember dear Gully, second in the long line of our sweet berners, and those days of the change.


2008 – Tea with the Tools

Painter’s Notes – click here

So it seems that studio still lifes are the order of the day. A fun group of fancy these three. Makes me want to clear that workbench off and grab a teacup.

This is along shot, because all of my artist friends are hard working folk, but today I nominate John Philip Hagen.
So now, Betsy, Ken and John…shine off those archives and let the world see your beauty.

Day 2


From 2003 – The Whipper In
This one has only been seen once in a show at the Granary. I think it is providing insulation in our bedroom at the moment. It’s our log cabin living room and, if you’ve been there then you are in a very special group of friends and family. The painting upper left is a reproduction of one I did for the Follansbees of their front yard. Kinda fun to see that again. As of last night, that fireplace is still keeping us warm…

Painter’s Notes – click here


2004 – Transit

This one hangs in the studio and I get to look at that ocean every day and dream.

Painter’s Notes – click here


2005 – The Flyer
Boy did I love painting that red. That mail bag was a victim of the major flooding we had a few years ago. Loyal friend Susan Douglas took it home and lovingly cleaned it and I just unearthed it yesterday for a new painting idea. Then I went up to the old studio, which is now my prop room, and found that jacket too. It wasn’t quite right for the new painting, but it was a solid yes for The Flyer.

Painter’s Notes – click here

OK – Ken Vincent…you’re tagged.

Artist Challenge

Thats how the light gets in

So… this facebook thing is going around. If I get it correctly, an artist is “challenged” by another artist to post 5 days of paintings on said social media outlet and then to pass along this throw down, as it were, to 5 more artists.

Phyllis Disher Fredericks has called me out. Here is her FB page link, click here
along with her Pinterest link for those who don’t have all that time to waste on FB,
click here. Looks like I’m going to have to talk her into a website for the rest of you to see her wonderful world of still lifes and landscapes.

I’m stealing one of my faves to show here but I can’t find the title…Phyllis ?

I’m going to try and do this through the blog here since it posts to FB and that way we can get a twofer out of this. Things are rolling at the easel and, with a week of snow storms rolling in, I want to do nothing but paint paint paint.

I’ll take time out each day to post the three obligatory paintings, and selecting one from each of the fifteen years I’ve been at this, that should fulfill the task.

Here then, are the first three…

Rhapsody in Bluebird  Р2000

Rhapsody in Bluebird

A link to the Painter’s Notes – click here

The Alchemist’s Daughter – 2001


Painter’s Notes – click here

Remains of the Day – 2002


Painter’s Notes – click here

I’m going to challenge five artists, and remember that they have to have a FB presence or it won’t quite work. Dear Phyllis took a lot of care consulting her artist selections ahead of time to make sure they would like to play along. I do not have her patience, or her kindness of spirit so I’m just going to throw the dice.

My first choice is…Betsy Harrington.




Cerulean Sunrise

Up before the sun
Finn and I were treated to a glorious sunrise
Full of color and promise and hope

Today is the inauguration of Tom and Frances Wolf as governors of our state.
Big day in the neighborhood. They live in the little town over the creek and up the hill.
I can see the smoke rising from her studio when her brushes are flying.
The local firehouse is hosting a pancake breakfast.
The bus for the school band just drove by on
their way to play for the festivities.

I”m deeply proud to know these two human beings
and excited to see what good will come of their tenure.
Parades and balls have been replaced by art exhibitions to honor
the creative heros in our state. Imagine that.

Stay tuned…
Easels everywhere will be humming…

In honor of this, and other inaugurational mornings,
here are the words of Maya, written for Bill’s first,
may the simple hopes rise up to meet us all…

On the Pulse of Morning

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers- desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot…
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours- your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

Fine Art Surprise…

Something to warm anybodys windchill…


Fine Art Connoisseur just arrived in today’s mail. I always put down the brushes and take a quick peek while it’s hot off the presses, so it was interesting to find that editor Peter Trippi has written a feature article, “Celebrating America’s Great Collectors” and to read that, first up, among the two dozen written about, is an interview with collectors, Scott Allocco and Doug Clark…

Readers of this blog will know them to be dear friends of ours, but will now be able to learn, in this article, about their journey as serious art collectors. Doug and Scott’s generosity extends well beyond their patronage, but it was still a wonderful surprise to see that the magazine chose one of my paintings to illustrate their collection.


Island Passages…

Island Passages

Oh the doors that they have opened.
My brushes have all lined up next to the late night easel,
and are bowing to you my friends.