Menemsha
paired down
to its essence.
Brilliant
raking sunlight
on a longline.
Pitted
pockets of rust
chipping through the years.
And all the elements of color
dripping their way
back to the sea.
Tangled Up and Blues
Year: 2021
Pointing the Way
If I had it to do over again
I’d probably be on board.
Mornin’ Glories
Oh my little bunnies.
Each spring I begin the watch.
Eager for the whisper of a whisker.
Sitting at my easel I have two birdfeeders.
And underneath them
where the seed hulls collect
grows a thick matte of clover.
This is where I usually see the first babies hop into view.
As the weeks grew from spring into early summer
with nary a twitch I began to worry
that it might mean no bunnies this year.
One sparking afternoon
at the tail end of May
I went to the end of the garden path
to pick a posie of herbs.
Just there
tucked in the shade of the arbor
in between the morning glory trumpets
was a nest.
Five tiny furballs
cuddled in a gently snoring mound of love.
Alice decided to celebrate with tea.
And I did catch this one
by a whisker.
Feeding Jane’s Crow
Oh Jane…
So this painting is one of those collaborations
in which I play only a very minor part.
I really had nothing to do with this one.
Early on in the pandemic
Pat and Jane made a pact.
They would call each other
to check in almost daily
for support during the isolation of lockdown
her on her island
and Pat in her log cabin
and to provide at least one good belly laugh between them.
That conversation has been ongoing ever since
and it is honestly the highlight of my day
to come home and hear the latest story from Jane.
I secretly think they each go out of their way
to make stuff up just for the chuckles
but I’m here to witness that we, none of us,
would have made it through without that connection.
So Jane has this crow
which she feeds.
She reports that it visits each day
and goes so far as to follow her on her daily walks
through downtown Menemsha
and apparently gives her what for
if she forgets to offer up the daily snack.
One day Pat comes over to the studio in tears…
well actually every day Pat comes over in tears
which are mostly from laughing
at Jane’s stories.
Apparently Jane had set out a bag
with some sort of crumbs
for her crow.
It was a stormy day
and the wind
or possibly the crow
had blown the bag onto her roof.
Pat sternly warned Jane not to jolly well climb up there after it.
This is something you must remember
as her friends know
to warn Jane not to do.
Then they got to giggling about how Pat
suggested Jane get a tiny little umbrella
for the storm soaked crow
and they both lost it
which is why the tearful laughter in the studio
and
as ever
those cheeky Muses were in the corner
listening.
It was the work of a moment
to find a teacup from Oversouth
and the delicate whalebone handled parasol
had been perched on the top of a picture frame
hanging on the wall of the log cabin dining room
ever since Mr. Morse handed it to me on our last island goodbye.
I stripped away all but the tidal current from the basin
and then just stood aside.
There is personal meaning to the bling.
But that’s
personal.
Sail on Lady Jane
and your little crow too.
Double Pointed Light
That first mitten was pale yellow
and big enough for a yeti.
Its matching sister mitten
was a snug fit for my Tiny Tears doll.
I was 9 and the thread
of that fuzzy yellow yarn
has now twisted and woven
its way through
a lifelong love of all things fiber.
Now I am knitting my way
through the sixties
and the pleasure and peace
of picking up those tiny needles
and warming my arthritic fingers
with that soft and silky handspun wool
is all about keeping those hands warm and busy
while my mind wanders and wonders.
The long arc
of that knitted path
reveals an automatic
and deeply authentic
connection back to that child
who could never
ever
have imagined
what adventures
her clumsy young hands
would have before her.
The Bookbinder
This is a composition
really just the hint of an idea
which I’ve had in the working sketchbooks for many years.
I dabbled in bookbinding for awhile
as one does
and so the props were readily at hand.
And the model
or poseur as it were
was also to hand
or at least passing through.
Peter uses our house as a stop
on his workshop teaching routes.
It is always the highlight of my year
when we get a chance to
as Herself likes to quip
spit scratch and tell lies.
I never lie and I’ve never seen Peter spit
but there you are.
We have a blast.
On one of those return trips he arrived very late
after filming episodes of The Woodwright’s Shop with Roy Underhill.
I’ve got no shame dropping his name here
because it’s a wicked cool thing that Peter and I both watched his PBS show
even before we were aspiring woodworkers
and I’m so thrilled that they are now friends and fellow scholars.
But I bring it up here
to place emphasis on the very late
and very tired northbound traveler.
Peter was exhausted.
But he was also planning to book outta here
before the wrens’ started singing the next morning
and I had a little request.
Please, after spending hours and hours in front of a camera
would you please…
sit in front of a camera
and pose for me.
With no time for an elaborate set up
I plunked him in the office at the round cherry table
and brought down my binding frame.
Couple of practices with the gesture
and click, I had my reference.
I pushed my luck and had him do a twofer
and model for a second composition idea
which became the core of Master Carver’s Tea.
Since the orchestration for that comp was further along
I put it at the head of the line and the Bookbinder sat…in the books.
Then we went to Ireland.
At the end of our tour we visited the Rock of Cashel.
In the adjoining Hall of Vicars
I found a collection of Irish furniture that resembles the era of 17th century carvings
which Peter specializes in but what I also saw was a possible reference
for the table I have been pondering for yet another painting
which is even deeper in the wings of my sketchbooks.
I took photos for Peter’s archives and for my own.
Now we creep forward to this past winter
when I was eager to sink my chops
into something completely different and challenging.
I dug back and found the initial sketches for the bookbinder
remembered the table and carvings
and thought the Irish antiquities could just be grand.
What you see before you is the culmination
of decades of rumination
and a frisson of serendipity.
I waited all this time
for that wren to wake up
and sing she did.
Granary Gallery 2021
Well it’s time !
My Granary Gallery Show is about to be revealed.
The show opening is Sunday August 15th.
And while Herself and I will be continuing our Pandemic Protocol here in the studio…
The paintings have arrived safely on the island.
The gallery staff has gone out of their way to insure safety and protection for the best possible patron experience.
There will not be a typical show gala reception this year. But they are OPEN for business and so are we.
So here we go…
The first painting to share with you is the very first one I did for the show…I hope you enjoy and stay frosty out there !!!
Vituoso
There is a pause in every year
here in the studio
in between those intense months
of lifting tiny brushes at the easel
after the paintings have flown to their new homes
When I catch up on overlooked chores
and bring the unfinished mystery novel
out to the sky chair
only to end up watching the catbirds
rearranging their whispering garden twigs
or…if it is winter
When I sit with a cup of tea
in the patron lounge chair
and a newly gathered stack
of well worn books
and visit with my old master friends
An interval when
during these pauses
I let the creative energies drift
enjoying and listening to
a different rhythm…
when suddenly
the Muses go SNAP !
I have come to know and trust
as my artiste self “matures”
that it’s only a matter of time
before there will soon be a pile
of offerings before me
Feathers and teacups
shards of color
shiny bits and bobs
a jigsaw puzzle of treasures
which have caught their fancy
Dumped now on the table
to test the mettle
and tease the wanderer back
once again sparking that sizzle
tempting me out of that stasis of revelry
Calling me back to the work
which has come to define
the essence
the very core
of all that is meaningful
of who I am in this world…
An Artist.
Mentors
I rise in the courthouse, as Scout was beckoned to do, for the passing of a great man.
The windows in the studio are open this morning, which is unheard of in August, to a freshening breeze.
Late last night, in a quieted hospital corridor, surrounded by a solidly forged family of supporters, we enveloped two young men as they took what is called the Walk of Life.
A powerful and deeply moving ceremony where that little box we check on our driver’s license becomes very very real.
One life is traded for many.
I seem to throw the word around a lot but I truly have never witnessed such grace.
And it wasn’t in the overwhelming handing over of the gift, the youthful organs to be shared, it was in the brilliant beacon of love that radiated between Matt and his husband on the gurney… Paul.
In crowded ICU waiting rooms and peaceful wooded pathways, we have listened to a bucket full of stories about how that love has enveloped, emboldened and lifted so many others and I’d honestly be crumpled on my knees in the telling of it …if it didn’t require both of them to lift me back up.
But I want to talk here, at least this morning, about Mentors.
Almost all of the people we have been glued to in the last four days we had never met…in person. But we knew them.
Because they were important to Matt and Paul who were important to us.
They were stories and pictures on our phones and of course the wall of covid set all those “we’ve got to get you together” meetings off. We made up for all that lost time in no time. One of the most surreal experiences in my life came yesterday, when after days of trying to keep our voices down and our distances apart in heavily masked hallways we all somehow knew to make our way to the ridge and for the first time I got to meet their smiles.
In his house, with his beloved Bernese Mt Dogs leaning, the vigil was kept.
Paul is an artist. And as we, the collected mourners, moved through the day waiting for the call to come back to the hospital, our rolling conversations explored the connections between us all. They told me Paul had introduced me as one of his Mentors. He and I talked a lot about that. But I think it was the other way around. Or maybe mutual.
What I knew of Paul’s dreams to be a full time artist came alive in the voices of his friends and their stories of how proud they were of his working so hard to achieve that dream. And he did. It hurts too much to think about how few days he got to spend in that new studio but I heard story after story about how fiercely he created in there.
We have all had Mentors in our lives. Wouldn’t have made it this far without them. But being a Mentor, it feels like a huge responsibility. I honestly didn’t feel worthy and was reluctant to embrace the roll with anyone else’s creative soul at stake. Sort of coming at it from the side with my shoulders tucked and head down. But Paul persisted. He, the professor, said Teach Me.
While I was taking baby steps along that journey, Paul was striding far ahead. Listening to his friends these last few days I’ve come to see that his truest creative gifts may have been the kindness, generosity, steady support, tremendous capacity for laughter and the forgiveness he bear-hugged into their lives.
No superlatives here could measure up to the power of his relentless choices to love.
I’m sitting here shaking as I try to fill in for you the layers of evidence I have for that statement and my heart just won’t let them go down to my fingers yet. So trust me, Paul gave his heart out.
And Matt, dear sweet soul, kept that heart safe.
What Paul was eager to learn about art, I needed to learn about love.
Matt and Paul together were a Masterclass. Full stop.
So, on this blessedly fine morning I just want to say thank you to my friend and mentor, for giving me the opportunity to help carry your paintings.
And Paul…
he just insisted that I include this shot of his fine…
damnit Paul.
More Prints Available…
How are you all doing on this fine summer afternoon.
It’s cool here inside the studio, but outside the zinnias are loving them some hot and steamy temps.
I went around and picked a bucket of flowers for Herself to arrange the other day and spotted some swallowtail caterpillars chomping their way through the carrot patch.
It reminded me of this painting, The Reverie…
Which got me thinking about how I’ve been meaning to update the Print section with a few more paintings.
So, taking advantage of the air-conditioned office, I have just added 9 new ones to the page.
They kind of randomly populate the PRINTS page when I load them so I’ll let you see them here for review and for fun.
I’m still battling the learning curve of the new Gutenberg editing program and I can’t…as yet…figure out how to hyperlink each of the images below. But they do all appear on the Prints page so you can find the info there if you’ve a mind.
Stay safe and cool out there and watch for those butterflies.
Hello Strangers…and some new work
Has it really been over two months since we last visited ?
Well how’ve ya been ?
I hope well and that you are still being safe out there.
Please tell me you’ve been vaccinated.
I hope you are enjoying the benefits of some time with old friends and new adventures.
We are taking baby steps as we navigate the brave new world.
Visits outside with the fully jabbed and picking bunches of beautiful flowers growing in the gardens.
INside however the pace has been anything but slow and cautious.
With all three galleries back open and eager for new work the brushes have been flying.
Though we are not, once again due to the pandemic, traveling north to Martha’s Vineyard, the Granary Gallery is going on with the show so the paintings had to make a run for it.
The best part of last year’s painting delivery nightmare was meeting our driver Nathan and this year he once again has came to our rescue and all the paintings for this year’s show are safe and snug in a studio in Western MA awaiting the second leg of their journey when the gallery van will pick them up and tote them to the island. We are jealous that they will feel those ocean breezes but thrilled to have made an enduring friendship with Nathan, his wife Thanh and their new pup Ali.
Here’s a snap of Ali listening to Pat’s stories…and her heart.
And here she is riding shotgun on the painting delivery.
But before we begin the annual rollout of all those Granary pieces I’m pleased to share two NEW paintings which are, as I write, winging their way out to Denver.
Gallery 1261 is having a Small Works show which opens on August 14, and the New Paintings may arrive in time for them to take to the LA Art Fair this summer.
Without further ado I give you…
Onion Moon Rising – 12 x 13
And…
The first pea never makes it out of the garden – 12 x 14
You seasoned patrons and friends will by now have checked out the new website features and be able to swiftly navigate to the Portfolio section and down to the Painter’s Notes to read the backstory on these little teacup mysteries.
While you do that I’m going to get back to work editing the images of the next batch of paintings which my camera managed to capture before they were framed and packaged for their road trip.
May your summer be full of rose sniffs and your kitchen filled with zucchini.
Love and green tomatoes from the studio, Heather