One year ago tomorrow we got the news that our Maggie had been born.
When we brought her home…our family was once again complete.
Her bright spirit has lead us through a year of challenges and with every paw print along the way we have been surprised by joy.
Maggie is all heart and soul and a full tilt yearling now and our little Solstice child is the best Christmas present ever !
Follansbee is making me a table.
He gave it a shout out in his blog this morning…https://pfollansbee.wordpress.com/
Here he is sawing one of the great pine boards that his pal Ted gave him.
A couple of these fine specimens are tucked away in his shop …
to be fashioned into something sorta like this…
Which, as my friend Ted would have said…is sorta fun.
And that jogged me to come back here to my own blog and record another update on the New Studio build.
Racing towards the finish line now, the last few weeks have been about fine tuning the original designs and trimming out the interior.
Dan has begun the library and got the first stack of boards ready this week and set up a staining station for me.
Maggie and I were ready…and I got my first taste of what it will be like to “work” in my new studio…
It brought me to tears and I turned up the tunes and danced the night away.
We had already had a cold opening of sorts with a “Friendsgiving” which couldn’t be beat… (Next year we’ll be eating at Peter’s table)
Another milestone was the addition of Ishmael on the roof. Jake got the job done and gave her the first spin…
While Dan and Skippy made piles of sawdust inside the New Studio, I made my own small pile of shavings while carving a plaque for the library. The HN Studio motto will have pride of place in its new home…
But first we needed to add some railing to the loft…
With the Solstice on our doorstep the sunsets and the gloaming are bringing the place to life…
And we are all full tilt tired at the end of these shorter and shorter days…
May your winter days be filled with warming sunlight and muddy pawprints…
and may you have as much fun as we are…
after dodging a barrage of life’s lemons…
making sweet lemonade.
Progress report…
We have windows.
And a great big door.
And a roof.
And on top of that roof we have…
A tiny cedar tree.
An old time tradition of “Topping Off” was to nail a small fir tree to the tippy top of a new building as the tallest member of the structure was in place. By way of appeasing the goddesses of nature whose job it is to watch over the trees, we who have used new lumber to create shelter pay homage.
And inside we have the beginnings of a glorious open space for the light to live…
and a cozy nook of a library where in the books can live…
As I write this blog post from the temporary office in the old studio which we are slowly beginning to call, The House, there are two crews of tradesmen at work banging and sawing away inside the New Studio. Remnants of Hurricane Ian are still bringing waves of showers through a third day of dark and stormy weather but it is high and dry and safe inside the new building and the sound of real progress just makes my heart soar.
There was a peek of sunshine a minute ago, and it lit up the trunk of the maple tree just outside this window. A patch of bright red appeared which I suspect is poison ivy but it screamed AUTUMN at me. And the chill in my fingers are I type confirm that the seasons have changed. This one is my favorite and I say bring on the knitting needles…
Just wanted to give you all an update before I head back to the easel.
May your furnaces run clean and your pumpkin spice longings be sated.
It’s UP !!!
The walls of the Granary Gallery are full of new paintings
and you can see them for your very own selves
from your very own living room, back porch or poolside lounge…
Click on this link to take a virtual tour … GRANARY 2022
The remarkable Granary Staff is available to answer any questions you may have about the new work and can be reached at 508-693-0455. The Granary is open daily 10-5 and Sunday 11-4.
This current group show features new paintings and sculptures by Don Wilkes, Tamalin Baumgarten, Ken Vincent, and yours truly…I know you will enjoy checking out all of our creations.
But if you can’t visit the gallery in person… I encourage you to try that virtual tour. There are many other artists represented there and it’s a fun little divertissement to wander about the place from the comfort of your …wherever.
Many thanks to all of you for the kind and generous “likes” and words of encouragement and support as I’ve rolled out this years’ show. Your reaching out means more than ever as we can’t be on the Vineyard and at the Granary for the opening this year.
You have made this artist smile…a lot.
I’ll keep you posted on the goings on with the show and stay tuned to this blog for progress reports on the NEW STUDIO build !!! Living in a construction site is interesting to say the least but the young furry whippersnapper amongst us is absolutely loving it.
Maggie says so long from her supervisory post on the porch…
I’ll just say…goodbye for now.
Rock Solid – 48 x 34
I’m writing this from the old studio back porch
Been sitting here all morning
Watching big machines moving heaven and earth
Well mostly earth
And big stones
They move in sync with slow motion arcs
A graceful and very loud dance.
I’ve also been thinking my way into writing this,
the last of the painters notes for this year’s GG show.
In my head for days now
The focus keeps shifting
And I keep putting it aside
Recognizing that I’m not settled enough yet
So I step back and out of my own way.
This morning’s air is clearing and blessedly cooler once again
And maybe that’s all that I needed to see
That this painting began as an homage to that wall.
It’s Jane’s wall, but she’d be the first to tell you
that the great stone walls of Chilmark
belong to the island, the islanders, and the town not the landowners.
This one runs through the backyards up on crick hill in Menemsha
But long long ago
When that land was farmland
It was built to make use of the tilled up boulders
And to fence in
or out
the pasture.
Jane remembers walking through that gate opening as a girl
So I took out the shrubbery that lives there now
And gave her back the passage.
She believes it to be the tallest original stone wall on the island
And I believe Jane.
So last October when we came to visit
And she and Herself were solving all the problems of the world
I stepped out on Jane’s deck to explore
And the Muses had lit the place up.
The wall was raked with that brilliant autumn island light
And it was as if seeing it for the first time.
The sun streaming through the crystal clear air was similar to this morning’s back porch light
And maybe that’s why I’ve finally found my way back in.
Yes the painting is about the wall
It started there
And never was about anything else
But today
As I sit watching the work being done
to build the foundation of my new studio
I see that it is also about the people who built that wall.
Solid is absolutely one way to describe the islanders.
A disposition bred out of the challenges of living on a rock in the middle of the ocean
Moving heaven and their own patches of earth
To raise themselves and their families into generations of community.
I guess that’s what humans have always done
And Vineyarders would be the first to tell you they’re nothing special
But the ones I know
Are pretty special to me
And that’s about all I was really ever trying to say with this painting.
Now it’s time to zoom out…
Remember that dear little blue painted hinge ?
The Coming and the Going – 36 x 24
The Coming and the Going
That has come to signify this era for so many.
Writ large or writ local
some of the shiftings have been tectonic
while others mere whispers of change.
The Painter’s Notes for Unhinged…
(Which you can read by clicking on the image above)
…well that journal entry sets the scene for… The Going
This painting gives you the harbor’s perspective
of this particularly seismic change in the town of Menemsha.
In Menemsha all manner of vessels and humans
are constantly in the pursuit of both…
Coming into port
Going out to sea
This gentle village is always in motion.
On this day last October there was a fair bit of going
as Larsen’s Fish Market was being demolished
to make way for a new version of that special old salt.
If you take the time to compare with Unhinged
you will see that in this composition
zoom in closely…
that dear blue painted hinge still holds fast
and there is just this one last corner of wall
left standing.
As in all artistic endeavors
the artist is free to edit.
I have gently done so here
removing most of the heavy machinery
and repainting the green dumpster.
For years now I’ve been looking for a way
to bring that great big landing net into a painting
ever since I found it washed ashore on Stonewall beach.
It was hopelessly beyond use for a fisherman
but I loved the brokenness and it has been reminding me
as it leans against my old studio stairs
of the power of the sea.
So it was sorta fun that here
in proportion to the old and now broken fishing shack
it could stand tall and represent.
Over the decades
of studying those rhythms
of steady comings and goings
I have learned
that while there can be stillness…
those spaces in between
…there is always some manner of change
on the horizon.
Coming to the end of a year of sometimes brutal
and always jarring shifts in our world
there is wonderful and joyous change on our horizon.
This week the concrete is to be poured
securing a literal foundation
for my new studio.
That great big light at the end of the long tunnel
coupled with the shipping off of this year’s worth of paintings
for next week’s Granary Gallery show
has afforded me one of those precious
moments of in between.
My spirits are lifting
and the peace is familiar
and kind.
At rest finally
with both
the going
and the coming.
We are going to zoom in
before we zoom out.
Unhinged – 24 x 20
I heard the wrecking machine before I saw it.
Creak creak creak then…Crunch.
The small crowd of onlookers took a collective three steps back.
Suspended high above the little fishing village of Menemsha
was the front wall of Larsen’s Fish Market.
Swinging high over the heads of the townsfolk
were shredded bits of cedar shingle and broken off lumber.
The crane creaked as it deposited the bits of building into a giant gaping roll-off.
The rumors of reconstruction were making the rounds on the island
but witnessing the demolition up close and personal like that was powerful.
Larsen’s is an institution.
The steady and reliable provision
of fresh off the boat
catch of the day seafood
is surpassed only by the warmth and kindness
of the always smiling family who runs it.
That day in October
I followed my long time routine
when scouting the island for painting ideas.
Parking down at the beach
I walked back up the dock
with sketchbook in my back pocket
and camera slung over my shoulder.
The main show was out front
so it was out back that I went.
The dock was empty
except for Betsy and her husband.
She’s the proprietor
and you’ve met her before
or at least her largess
in the painting Betsy’s Gift.
But again,
I heard before I saw.
Bang bang bang…crunch.
The two of them had heavy handtools
and were whacking the shit out of the back door.
I approached quietly
lens zoomed at the ready
as the Muses have taught me.
The two of them started laughing
Betsy turned and saw me
saying, “This stubborn old hinge is not letting go.”
Over our heads the big machine out front was lifting roof timbers
and complete sections of walls
flying them across the sky and into the dumpster
then rhythmically thumping them into smaller bits.
Chunk after chunk
they were getting closer
to this last wall
and the back door.
Now a sledge hammer was brought in.
Whack whack whack…creak.
By god they got that thing off
but it was the door that broke loose first.
The hinge held fast.
I know something of its strength
and a whole lot about its fortitude.
I’ve swung through that screen door a thousand times.
Out from the melee of islanders and tourists
ordering steamers and clams
through the steam of the tiny kitchen
over the freshly hosed down concrete floor
picking up where the swing of the last customer
banged that door shut
and pushing it out once again
then walking onto the dock
in the brightening light
of that familiar harbor.
They had wanted to save the door
a powerful talisman indeed.
I wanted to mark its passage as well.
The hat is the very first one I ever bought.
Like the hinge
it signifies
and holds me fast
to that island.
Right at the stop sign and just over the little tidal bridge and our first stop is…
Drawn Butter – 30 x 24
This is Poole’s
Ok Not any more
But it was back then
And it’s hard to teach this old dog new tricks
The captain of this ship was Everett Poole.
He left the helm a while back
and left the planet a few short months ago.
He wore many hats over his 91 years in Chilmark
but I remember him in a red hat
on the stool
in this corner of his shop
pipe wisping away
with that hammer in his hand.
The reference photos I used were from a few years ago.
Donald took over for his dad Everett for a while there
and now Stanley owns it.
Someone could probably date those old pics just by reckoning the price of the lobsters.
And lordy that butter was a bit salty.
But remembering all those last minute trips
to pick up the catch of the day
and the cups of warm chowder
we picked up along the way to the brisk autumn beach…
priceless.
We are half way now dear readers and patrons. For the second half of this year’s Granary show let’s actually get ourselves up to that island of Martha’s Vineyard. Roll that car off of the ferry and make a quick stop at Net Result for some sushi to go. We are heading up island.
We are going to spend the rest of the show strolling along Basin Road heading down to the beach with some hidden views and familiar interiors and we will be there just in time to catch a moment in history as the old makes way for the new.
Let’s head down the hill and see what’s up first…
The Paint Box – 30 xx 20
This came from one of those serendipitous shifts in the atmosphere
that only happen when you are not looking.
I’m quite certain there will be some of you
reading these Painter’s Notes
after viewing The Paint Box
who will say…huh
I never noticed that house either.
Coming down the hill
into the little village of Menemsha
even if you obey the 15 mph speed limit
by the time you start the curve to the left
and the final descent to the stop sign
your mind is on one of two things
lobster
or chowder.
Well for me it’s three
because I’m getting ready to look to my left
to see if Jane’s light is on.
OK if you are a fisherman
you might be wondering about the wave heights
it won’t matter but you might be wondering.
And if you were Herself
you’d already have your hand on the swimming bag
and would be thinking about fried clams.
But you get the idea
that the focus on that last tenth of a mile
is on what lies beyond
not what sits to either side.
Last October,
after decades of Octobers
we were driving up out of the basin
and turning left at the stop sign
to go up the hill…
and BAM
there was a shaft of light
that shot right onto the corner of this house
which I had never seen before.
Knowing what I now know
about how quickly the light can come and go on this island
I turned right around.
Came back up the hill
threw the car as far off the road as I could
and walked up to investigate.
Click click click with the camera to record the moment
then some intense visual sketching for reference
and just like that the light was gone.
Came back home and reviewed the days scouting.
And there on the camera screen
was what I was too busy on site to see…
the dear little painted doorstep sign…
The Paint Box
Gotta love ’em
My Muses
Everything old is new again.
And in this case it’s the gate.
Which Nathan helped me rebuild
at the entrance to the studio
leaving this old worn section
just hanging in the wind
with nowhere to swing.
Everything around me is changing.
And that includes the landscape
of the studio yard.
When I started work on this composition
the space between the gate
and that red roofed garage
was a patch of weeds laid bare
after I had moved all of the raised beds
to make way for the new studio.
Here is a picture from yesterday
of that same gate at the writing of these Painter’s Notes…
I wanted to mark the passages
of moving the old front gate
out back to give me a new doorway
into the Ruth Stout garden.
And to have one lasting look
at that empty space beyond it
which very very soon
will be a place
where I can sit at my easel chair
and reach out the window
on a summer day like today
and pluck a ripe cherry tomato.