Multum in Parvo

It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon…

Was it only a week ago that we were gathering here in anticipation of the Granary Show Opening …

I’m up in the office loft writing this post and listening to WMVY, the Vineyard Radio station, and of course after composing that last sentence they began playing the Dead’s Uncle John’s Band…oh oh oh where does the time go ?

Those silly Muses…Ted being the most funnest among them.

I’m happy to report that the news from the gallery is delightful with red dots accumulating and generously positive comments from viewers. There seems to be particular interest in one very small detail…a single drop of water…

Photo Credit Barbarella Fokos… and here’s a pic of Barb and David and his mom at the opening…

Photo Credit Katie Morse (Gallerista)

Barb also drew my attention to the section of my website, The Road, which features their Feature Film…Visions of Home and which had one of those broken link things. Happy to report I have fixed that this morning so here again is the proper link to view a trailer and have the option to rent or buy the film…just click on the image below.

WMVY has moved on to Robert Cray’s “The forecast calls for pain” …well it’s been a cloudy morning with spits of rain so…

I’m going to address the mountain of paperwork just to the left of this keyboard now but out of the corner of my eye I can see the library below with the studio motto hanging in gold leaf above the hearth
which is the all and the only thing to say about that single drop of water…

Have a wonderful late summer day and enjoy the littlest of details.

My Sweet Pea

A word of gratitude before the Painter’s Notes…

for YOU…

All of you who took the time to send me support and love in response to the roll out of this years’ Granary Gallery show…

It is not a throw aside gesture to say that it makes all the difference
because to me it absolutely does.
We won’t be able to attend the opening in person
but from here in the late summer studio
I can feel the hugs and see the smiling faces virtually via your likes and comments
which goes such a long way towards affirmation and your kindness is contagious.

Maggie and I got some tomatoes gathered this morning
and in this hottest part of the year
the tall bushy green beans are apparently not as special a treat
as her long gone sweet peas
but our girl has bunnies to chase
and a field of wild clover to roll in
and we send you all a bucket of thank yous …
may your teacups overflow with sweetness.

My Sweet Pea

This was all Maggie’s idea.

Originally the intent was to have this composition
focus up close on my hands
shelling those beautiful peas
into a teacup.

I had the panel prepped
and the frame ordered
and it was the very last
of the paintings
for this years’ Granary Gallery show.

But when it came time to sketch it out
I couldn’t quite get the positioning of the hands right
just by drawing them in front of a mirror.

So I set things up in the new studio
and called Herself over late one night
to push the button on my camera.

She brought Maggie
who upon seeing the pea pod
came hurtling to devour the treat.

This has been Maggie’s first year in the garden
and after a crazy hot spell of a start to the season
when I feared the loss of all of the cool weather crops
we had a glorious run with the peas.

Both snow and shelling peas took off
and it became clear that Maggie LOVES peas.
She would sit patiently next to the trellis
waiting for me to catch up on our walks
and reach over the fence to grab her a handful of pods.

Just melted this old gardeners’ heart.

Back in the late night studio photo shoot
we managed to convince Maggie
to lay quietly beside Pat
as she snapped pics of my hands in different positions.

I sent them home when I climbed up to the loft office space
to look at the photos and see if I could work from them.
I needed one more take so back they came.

Something was amiss with the focusing on the camera
and the extra fussing must have annoyed the pup
because as I settled back onto my stool
and tried to hold my hands extra still
that little bundle of whiteness crept up
and came over to my side
and ever so gently she layed herself down
just as you see her here

with one paw on my boot
waiting patiently
my sweet pea
for her sweet pea.

Library Dreams

Welcome to my new studio
this is one corner of the library
my dream library
where all of the books
and props
and collections of treasures
have finally gotten a place
to play together.

It is a deeply meaningful space
designed after the Trinity library in Dublin
with ebony stained graduating shelves
and gold leafed alphabet letters
climbing next to tall fluted columns.

To sit in this space
in an early morning light
with the stove lit and beginning to warm
surrounded by my familiars
is dreaming my biggest dream.

To make something of an overture
and by way of marking new adventures
the Muses chose Moby Dick
as the very first book to pull from the shelves.

Sitting in my captains chair
tucked inside of this literary snug
felt the very essence of being inside of a whaleship
and I was every full measure
of CS Lewis’ “Surprised by Joy”
each morning as I read.

Here’s a peek behind the curtain
at my Library Dreams
sitting in
my dream library
which is sorta fun.

A Gift of Purple

The generosity of the Morse family knows no edges
and the quiet gesture of handing Herself this little purple vase
is what I’m talking about…tender kindnesses

And when she filled it with water
to place into it the daffodils
which they told her it was ok to pick
from their front yard
and the water leaked out all over the counter…

it was that second of the purple vases
which was offered to her that really spoke to their hearts.

The daffodils as theme
was a gift of its own in the studio for this years’ Granary show
and putting the three blooms which grew in our home yard
into one of those purple vases was a perfect foil
for Aunt Imy’s lilac teacup
resting on one of Polly’s hand sewn handkerchiefs
which she embroidered with violets.

But it was the muses I have to thank
who stepped in
to stop me
just before
I tried to give those flowers
a drink.

The whispers of clover are my own tiny celebration
of having finally moved out of the  “heavy construction” phase
of our rebuild and now every day
a little bit more of what was the mud and straw strewn yard
that surrounds our home and studio
is growing lush and green with our new lawn of clover.

So much to be grateful for.

Coast Guards

One unexpected gift
of being on the island of Martha’s Vineyard in March
is the season of solitude.

While winter has snuggled the humans
behind closed doors
the verdant thickets of vegetation
along stone walled roadways
have fallen back to sleep
throwing open an early spring curtain
to reveal new and ever deepening
glimpses into old and familiar views.

And with those newly opened views
came the added blessing
of exploring the island in deep silence and peace.

The contrast of the bustling tourist season
with the quiet stillness of the winter
was sublime.

Happening upon this Menemsha moment
is the perfect example.

With Pat and Jane and Maggie
safely tucked into their recliners
I walked the sandy road
down to the beach
where the lifeguard chair
was the sole onlooker
back down the wooden dock
where the only sound
was the basin water lapping on the boats
up and over Crick’s hill
then out back of the Galley
where the every single post and rooftop
rail and piling had one seagull
sitting or lying as if on their lunch breaks.

Full disclosure
I cheated a bit here
In the real world
on that late March morning
there was one other human to be seen
I came upon him when I had drifted
further out that dock
just past the coast guard station
as I was looking back across the water
he was behind me coming ashore
from a morning of scalloping
I nodded
he said it was a beautiful day
and that was that
except that here
I turned him around.

When I started this painting
it was all about the solitude
and that peace
and quiet
with only the gulls standing guard
but it is a working village
and one lone fisherman
enjoying the sun and the sea
and a peaceful walk to work
seemed to tell a better story.

Moorings

A peaceful gentle cove
that curves around a back corner of Menemsha Pond.

A favorite lunch spot for island tradesmen
and when we pulled up in late March
there was a small van in the little lot
with its window rolled down
and the glimpse of  an old workshirt sleeved arm
resting on the sill
holding half of a homemade sandwich.

Maggie needed to stretch her legs
and I saw an interesting painting prospect up ahead
curious about all those bobbing bubbles floating
so we left the ladies in the car to keep chatting
grabbed the camera and took to the beach.

One of my hearts’ most favorite things to do is spend time with Jane.
Two of my hearts’ most cherished things to do is to listen to Pat and Jane
solve all of the world’s problems and to laugh together.

Couple one and two with roaming the island
exploring painting ideas on a beach walk with Maggie
while listening to Pat and Jane laugh in the distance…yep it’s priceless
and in this case also hilarious.

I had left Jane in the front passengers’ seat
Pat buckled in directly behind her
with both of their windows open
right next to, but a bit behind, the open window of the van
and trust me
when these ladies get to talking and laughing
they can be heard all the way down at the end of the beach.

I’m still wondering what that tradesman took home from their conversation.

I love the stillness
of these early spring moorings
lapped gently by the swells
and soaking up the sun
while they wait patiently
for their families to return…

and the echo of old lady giggles across the pond.

The Watering

I’m being told
by voices shouting just over my shoulder
that this one is all down to
THE MUSES.

Well ok then.

Returning from our magical early spring visit to the island
awash in the memories of fields of daffodils
it was fun to find a few of our own blooming in the studio garden.

This is a year of transition for the gardens
after a year of construction and heavy machinery ripping it all up
and sending well established roots hither and thither.

I was expecting
indeed looking forward to
starting all over again with a blank verdant slate.

But Mother Nature finds a way
and we found a few stalwart blooms fighting through the mud and straw
and were greeted at home with a tiny bunch of daffodils for the picking.

What’s that ?
Oh yes, sorry, THE MUSES !!!

Anyhow…
I was sitting in the new studio library going through old sketch books for new ideas
when I came upon some sketches done years ago.
I had called Herself over to the yard to help with a still life
by holding a teacup
over a watering can
which was supposed to be full of …
yep
daffodils.

It had been a last minute idea
and there were only two blooms left at the time
but as an artist we can fake these kind of things
think pre-CGI super powers.

Alas,
not all ideas for paintings make the first cut
and as this one did
get left to percolate in old sketchbooks
until
wait for it…

THE MUSES !!!!!!!!

Since a theme was beginning to blossom
for this year’s Granary Gallery show
it seemed fitting
or rather I was told in no uncertain terms that it was time
to resurrect this composition
and bring it to the easel.

It was totally my idea to put the watering can on the bluff.
TOTALLY.

But yes,
I’m always grateful
for those voices over my shoulder.
Ok yes…

THANK YOU LADIES !!!

Lynn’s Daffodils

Back in our twenties
when the cost of the ferry boat
and a sack of spaghetti fixings
was all we needed of adventure
Lynn would invite a friend or two
or three but never five or more
to come along on a trip to camp.

Her homemade cloth carrying bags
which could double as storm shelter if needed
stuffed mostly with cookies and books
were shoved under our feet for the crossing
and if we stopped
it was only to pee
and usually for me.

My memories of these excursions
drift further and further away
from the smell of the sea air
and the feel of winter cold sand beneath our feet
but my mind’s eye can still see her
Lynn
reaching deep into those duffels
for a handful of bulbs.

Was it every trip
or just a few times.
Did we all help
or watch from rockers.
I can see now
here in my dotage
her mother earth form
kneeling on the bluff
with a rusty shovel
lit from behind
by Camp Sunrises’
sunset.

Being there
for the planting
and plantings
and more
was all of the road I knew
and all of the journey I needed
until this spring…
when all these decades
and spaghetti suppers later
I finally got
to bend down
with the salty spring air
at my old lady back
and to say hello
for the first time
to Lynn’s daffodils.

A Freshening Horizon

If you are reading this today
you will know something of the road
we have been on…together…
for the last couple of years.

See the smile in my heart then
as I now open the doors for you
to the first of the paintings
created in the new studio.

A Freshening Horizon – 24 x 26

Here are the actual doors… to the studio I mean…

Just days after the marvelous crew of friends
moved everything “studio” from the old building to the new
I was sitting in the early morning library
listening…

When the Muses popped up…
and raked this new angle of light
across the old props
in the new corner.

Just for fun…
here is a pic of the actual interior
and that bold wash of light
and everything between here and there
which I decided to edit out.

You can probably imagine
that while they never actually left
crashing right back in
with their typically dramatic entrances
was a welcome jolt to begin my new chapter here.

Wasting no time
my constant muses
threw open the great big windows
to welcome in
a freshening horizon.