One of the reasons that this painting is titled, “Looking Back”, is that these fishing vessels, and the small commercial industry that has flourished on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, are fading into history.
I was just reading the Vineyard Gazette and Mark Alan Lovewell has an article that caught my attention and made me take a second look at this painting.
The article describes the transition from big sea dragging for fluke, which Tim Broderick and family were working with their boat, Four Kids, to Oyster farming in the nearby Menemsha Pond.
I like the forward thinking of their new venture, and, after years of mourning the decline of the big boats in Menemsha, I’m seeing new shingles going up, like the wholesale business of the Menemsha Fish House and I am hopeful that the village will continue to support the islanders.
I almost left that boat out. This composition required a lot of tweaking to get the major elements, buildings, boats and docks to line up, to fit on the panel and to be as close to reality as possible. In real life, those boats swap mooring positions daily, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to nudge the Four Kids up a few feet and let her dock in front of Larson’s.
And now I’m glad I did. Seems like as fast as I can paint these vineyard scenes…life has a way of changing it all up anew.
The original oil painting, Looking Back 92″ x 48″ is available at the Granary Gallery, just up the road from where the boat is still flying it’s flag.
It’s fair week on the Vineyard.
An agricultural throw back to the old thyme days of preserves and pies and pig races and winning flower arrangements.
I’ve heard the pigs are out this year, lemurs are in ?
And I’ve got some preserving of my own to do around here.
But somehow, some day, it’s on my bucket list
to attend the fair.
It was a stellar time on Martha’s Vineyard. A magnificent gallery opening with wall to wall kind and generous patrons of the arts, bookended by two amazing weeks on the wildly changed and stunningly brilliant Chilmark bluff.
I’ll have more to say about that and this, but for now, I have to kick the studio up into high gear to get ready for the next show…stay tuned.
Here are just a couple pics of the exhibition and smiling faces of dear ones who shared our island hearts…
4 Featured Artists, Wendy, Don, Heather and David, as we get ready to shake some hands.
Wendy, Herself and David making everyone feel welcome.Mr. Morse plying his trade.Ted, wouldn’t have missed it.Family traditions …The gallery’s next generation…The Follansbee Family full of fun.And a wonderful whirlwind reunion with Goddaughter Emily.
Notably missing are photos of the rest of the Granary Crew, Sheila, Adam, Sara, Nancy and Adam, the second, who were far too busy working hard to keep that place hopping. We are deeply grateful for everyone’s support up there…both humble and proud to be a part of their stable…as it were.
More to come as I sort through the ten thousand or more photos taken. The camera is still smokin’.
For now…I gotta go hit the brushes…
Be happy all.
Not sure if this is true for you but as time marches on I struggle less for independence and tug more on the threads that pull us all together… Travel safe this weekend my friends…
Ted and Pete have made quite a splash in their Cover debut on the American Art Collector Magazine this month, and I thought you would like to see some of their other inspirations as Muses.
Over the years, they each gave me the great gift of seeing the island of Martha’s Vineyard through their eyes. Both had DNA spread liberally across generations and rolling fields and they had an eager student of island history in my eager ears.
Ted and his wife Polly sent me wandering down many a sandy trail through brambles and over rocky rutted roads in pursuit of hidden landmarks and relics of island lore. After Polly left us, Ted rode shotgun on those adventures and navigated us to some seriously back-of-the-beyond treasures.
One such romp was to find the elusive Gay Head Lily. We ended up announcing ourselves in this lovely woman’s yard at the end of a long lane and out Ted, the celebrated head of the island garden club, waltzed to her dock along the pond to show me the flowers. Stunning. As I look back today, his hand seems far more delicate than those petals, but oh the wonders, that magician that he was, our Ted, could pull out of his hat.
Here’s a link to the original blog entry describing this painting…Click Here.
Another fine day found Ted and PG Harris and I bouncing along an old carriage path in my truck in search of The Brickyard. Ted thought it would be sorta fun to see it, and introduced me to PG whose family owned the property, and, after a couple hours of historical lecture on the area…off we three drove…I mean there we were in the middle of three glorious old fields surrounded by ancient stone walls and PG points to a small break in the stone and says, “Just drive over and through there and we’ll see.”
The Painter’s Notes give the rest of the story…click here… but suffice it to say, now that they are both floating somewhere high above that island…that adventure was one of my all time favorite memories.
Now, Peter Darling, well…he was just Pete. We called him the Admiral because he always had binoculars around his neck and was ever watchful from his deck. Not nothing, not no one, got past his old farm house on Greenhouse Lane without Pete knowin’ about it. Many a stranded sailor was rescued by the coast guard that Pete had hailed after spying their distress from his perch on top of those bluff steps. And every feather of the nesting osprey was monitored by their stalwart steward of a neighbor.
There is a tiny knoll in the long lane, right by his house, and I took to honking my horn with each passage so as to let oncoming traffic be wary, (and just between you and me…to keep the Admiral on his toes !). The very last time I heard from Pete, he had brought out a great big foghorn to his porch and answered my heralding call with his own. I really loved that.
These two views of Pete’s house give you an idea of the depth of beauty that surrounds the Darling’s farmhouse. His wife Della is there now and I’m eager to see her next week to give her a big hug and hear how life on the lane is faring this season. Della is a great fisherman and a lover of walks. In her travels, she has worn a path all along the perimeter of those old stone walls. I hear that some daisies grow there to welcome her in the late spring. She has earned them.
A couple of years ago…the year of the Apple Series, I spent the winter listening to the double trouble musings of Ted and Pete.
Pete was a tremendous trove of knowledge of Up Island lore and indeed history of all flavors. He loaned me a couple old tin coffee pots, the kind that were used over campfires by campers and travelers to cook up the early morning brew. The dear little one that made it into the Skillet Apple Pie painting was my favorite. Looking back, I should have blown some smoke out of that thing. Pete woulda loved that.
The core of this series, (written before the pun hit me, sorry), was the modeling session with Ted in the Magnuson’s Tiasquin Orchard…which all started with Chris’s suggestion…and the rest of that story is in these Painter’s Notes…click here.
And the man himself…
who sits in this chair across from my easel
and reminds me, every day,
that I am all the better
for knowing that twinkle
in his mishcievous
and loving eye.
Never trust a man, who when left alone in a room with a teacozy, does’t try it on.
How, on this first day of spring,
I would love to be there again…
a step or two behind on the path
just out of earshot,
though I suspect there were few words to overhear,
and light years away from their memories…
but there, at least, to offer a wing, and a grin,
and to listen to these two old crones
telling their tales
to the sea.
Ted and Pete,
Against the odds,
they both weathered this winter
but neither is here today to welcome the spring.
Or, maybe I’m wrong about that.
Think I’ll grab my hat
and my stick
and strut the old pegs
and see what they have left along the trail
to brighten my sad eyes.
I have a lot of things to say about this man…but right now the words are twisted up in my heart.
Last Tuesday, just about the exact time our electricity surged and vanished, so too did his heart.
The ensuing days in the cold and dark were made for the stalwart steadfast Yankee spirited New Englanders, like him. And the distractions of simple survival were just that, distractions.
Only now, as power has been restored and the outside world has followed the newly spliced cables into my studio space,
and the furnace has begun to restore my frozen digits,
and the breath is beginning to return to my soul…
only today am I able to return to the easel,
across from which is this painting,
which I am so glad I didn’t sell when someone pressured me a while back,
because I need him there,
since he is no longer sitting in his Chilmark wingback,
answering my phone call,
and directing the brushes from afar.
There has been a facebook campaign of late to flood the social networking space with art. So far I have been a lurker, learning of some new artists and revisiting some old friends…but yesterday An artist friend of particular note, Michael Allen…
convinced me to play along and assigned to me the artist Rogier van der Weyden.
So, after a morning of playing in the latest snow storm with Zoe, here is my chosen entry, The Magdalena Reading…
because it reminds me, of course, of Herself doing the same…
although today,
instead of sitting at the old ironing board
while the snow piles up on the log cabin roof
she is most probably making forts and playing with legos…
Happy Studio Snow Day to all…
Another Hero has slipped off the planet…
and in his wake…
such big shoes to fill.
Go softly sweet men…Pete Seeger.
“I honestly believe that the future is going to be millions of little things saving us. I imagine a big seesaw, and at one end of this seesaw is on the ground with a basket half-full of big rocks in it. The other end of the seesaw is up in the air. It’s got a basket one-quarter full of sand. And some of us got teaspoons, and we’re trying to fill up sand. A lot of people are laughing at us, and they say, “Ah, people like you have been trying to do that for thousands of years, and it’s leaking out as fast as you’re putting it in.” But we’re saying, “We’re getting more people with teaspoons all the time.” And we think, “One of these years, you’ll see that whole seesaw go zooop in the other direction.” And people will say, “Gee, how did it happen so suddenly?” Us and all our little teaspoons…”
The thread of our friendship has been weaving itself for nigh on to three decades now, and lately I believe my little studio wren has one end and his beloved cedar waxwings up north have hold of the other…drawing us ever closer… in spirit if not in miles.
After a hearty breakfast of sausage and French toast, Herself and Finn have left the building to give me some of that concentrated painting time that has been my bliss this winter. But a quick look at this morning’s missive by Himself encourages a quicker note here…passed along for your pleasure.
We have been lobbing these musings back and forth via the blogosphere but I sure would prefer to pull up one of those fancy pants chairs he carves next to his window and spend the day carving a spoon alongside the master and listening to Rose and Daniel telling stories about squirrels and pirates in the background.
Here’s the link to read how he is spending his creative snow day…
