Category: New Paintings

Touchstones

Posted on by heather

24 x 28 Oil on Panel

Touchstones …
” : a test or criterion for determining the quality or genuineness of a thing ”
(merriam webster dictionary)

From my sketchbook,

     7 October 2024

      heavy fog and dew
7am with some color in the foliage
the hickories are this weeks’ show stoppers
but the edges of everything are become brittle.

          Talismen – Touchstone
groping for guidance – for reassurance
chased by fear popping up around unexpected corners and in between dreams which warp relentlessly
from problem solving and revisiting childhood houses into nightmares battling with mutating monsters
all of whom start out as benevolent strangers.

          In the thick and soul clenching morning blanket of fog I reach for my talimans
the objects which I have within reach in every corner of this studio
imbued with meaning only I can treasure
afraid they may lose some of their power if revealed
or that I will in the telling.

          Organic – dynamic – keepers of the story
do I dare let them tell their own.

15 Nov

     This feels right – and strong
and deeply authentic
when in doubt – go home

     Meeting the Muses where they are
and leaning in

Perfect November day
cloud cover
newly bared branches

OK now
a better approach
light and moonlit

TALISWOMEN
TALISWOMAN
TALISMAN

Painter’s Notes Post Scriptum –

Unable to land on the best use of the “working title” of Talismen/women ? The objects surrounding and influencing the creative sphere are contributions from every corner and gender along the path. So, I referred back to these original sketchbook notations for some clarity and it would seem that the Muses had worked that out from the very start…Touchstones.

The little quotation taped to the bookshelf was attributed to Leonardo DaVinci as the last words he wrote, “perche la minestra de fredda”…loosely interpreted as, “Whatever, the soup is getting cold.”

Granary Gallery 2025 Show

Posted on by heather

Sprinting like Jorge Mateo after a sac fly from Rutch, flying around third and losing my helmet on the way towards home base…
I am chugging my way into the home stretch…
and running out of time.
So this year I will offer the New Painting “Rollout” into 4 groups of threes.

The first of these present three “studio” paintings.
Qualified as thus because they capture, in still life, glimpses behind the scenes of the new, now very much a hard scrabble working, studio.

I’ll give them each a blog post all their own so you can absorb the Painter’s Notes, take a walk in the garden and brew a fresh cup of tea in between.

Enjoy, Heather


small works show – Gallery 1261

Posted on by heather

Thanksgiving…the perfect time to share all the gratitude we feel for the love and support from patrons and friends throughout the year.

Here are a few new little paintings to help celebrate the season of light and love…
these are currently on exhibition at Gallery 1261 in Denver for their Small Works Show.

For those of you who are scattered far and wide across this planet here’s a link for you to see all the fine paintings included…Gallery 1261. And I know a few of you who are within visiting distance of those Rocky Mountains and hope you will stop in and say hey for us.

Happy and Merry from the studio…

Sunflower Summer – 12 x 9

This was the year of Winter Sowing.
A new and ancient method of seed starting.
New for me
ancient for the planet.

In late December,
on the solstice if you want to celebarte the suns’ journey,
recycled milk jugs and deeper potting pots
with good drainage holes
are filled with about 4? of seed starting soil.
Then a packet of seeds is scattered over the top,
carefully marked for much later identification…
or not so carefully in my case…
and sprinkled with water
and covered with a plastic lid
or in my case a ziplock back with ventilation holes.
(Pro tip: A soldering iron saved time, and strain on my hands, in the making of all those holes.)

And then the fun part…
put those jugs outside and walk away.

Mother Nature does the rest.

The beauty and the wonder
of my new studio
is that it was plunked right smack in the middle of my garden.

So, of course,
Maggie and I inspected all those pots each day on our walks.
I was a bit skeptical
but not Maggie.
Joyous trust is her superpower.

We had, per usual,
exceeded our enthusiasm
and of the initial 100 pots sown in the winter
there was about an 85% success rate.

And among those
the sunflowers were
simply the best.
Encircling the tomato plants
lining the Ruth Stout Garden
they made this
one to remember
the Sunflower Summer.

Rocky Mountain High – 9 x 12

This one
came to me in a dream
and taught
me a new
knot.

And then I got
to trip down memory lane
and listen to John Denver again.

I was right back
in my Aunt Bonnie’s little MG
with the top down
and a burlap earthshoe bag
full of 8 track tapes
at my feet in the passenger seat.

Wind in our hair
singing at the top of our lungs
it was the closest
I have ever come
to a
Rocky Mountain High.

Trustfall (Study) – 9 x 12

A Study

An idea
beginning
to take some sort
of shape.

The lump in the throat.

A challenge thrown down
by the Muses
which I gently picked up
three months ago now.

This very tiny painting
was the first to emerge
…three months ago…
from the gossamer threads
of a nebulous swirl
which they
The Muses
were tossing
one to the other
like a beachball
made of feathers
in front of me.

And then
in the middle of last night
or rather the wee hours of the morning
they woke me up
and threw
a scattershot
of volley balls
straight at me.

I snuck out of bed
grabbed a flashlight
and headed over to the studio
to quickly capture some sketches.

That page
as it turns out
is a wild mess.
But
after a cup of tea
and an hour of log editing
and the 7.07am
sunrise announcement
from the Cardinal
I went back down to the library
and the next page
in the sketchbook
now reveals
a fully formed
series of paintings…
Trustfall.

I know
not to even be
the least bit surprised
that today is
Thanksgiving Day.

Stay tuned.

She’s Got My Back

Posted on by heather

Seeing it through…the crack of dawn

She’s behind my chair as I write
and finish this last Painter’s Note
though it is the other end of the day from this painting
and the light is different on her fur

and she’s really tired of me sitting up here in the loft
all
day.

Maggie’s favorite treat is still sweet peas
and this spring I planted them close enough for her to help herself.

She still loves her sticks
and keeps a stockpile by the studio front door to share with special guests.

She’s fearless in the face of woodchucks
and tolerant of chipmunks.

She has a deep abiding affection for
everyone.

And she always
always
has my back.

Homeward Bound

Posted on by heather

Seeing it through…the eyes of a voyageur

If you read the notes from the painting, Seeing It Through, you will understand
where much of this still life came from.

Set in my library, sadly not on the USS Jamestown, you may recognize that inkwell,
and though I use the pen not the quill I have tried to write with it.

The little oil lamp lives on a library shelf…patiently waiting
and the signal flags are never in the same place when I search for them in the new studio.

The eyeglasses and this journal itself were handed to me by C. Morse himself.

As was typical for the time period
when paper didn’t grow on trees
someone in the last two hundred years used the first half of this old whaling journal for a scrapbook
carefully gluing religious tracts and society news clippings all the heck over entire pages.

But the last few pages were free of this detritus and in the most exquisite script,
which I didn’t even try to render, the captain or probably boatswain recorded the comings and goings
of the last days of a several years’ long whaling adventure of the ship Java out of New Bedford.

Even today the log entries of a commercial fishing vessel differ from that of a naval vessel.
The 1861 log I am editing mostly lists weather, reckoning data, who got thrown into irons
and the occasional details of the odd court martial.

The Java’s log book reads more like a journal
and we learn of the cases of scurvy and birds that follow the ship.

And on at least one page, revealed under the corner of the pasted clippings,
were those drawings of whales. It was common to illustrate the ones they captured,
perhaps by way of some kind of inventory and documentation.

This was the final entry
written as they had Cuttyhunk in sight
which means they were sailing past the Aquinnah lighthouse as he put down the pen
…homeward bound.

Munk’s Tea Party

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Seeing it through…the easel window

There are two huge windows to the left of my easel in the new studio
and outside just two steps from them is the Ruth Stout garden.

Last winter I tried an experiment of putting some bird feeders just inside the garden fence
actually “inviting” them to come inside.

That experiment has meant countless hours of enjoyment watching and studying them
with the added benefit of their thank you of helping to control the bugs who also like my vegetables.

A few months ago this little critter moved in to the compost pile.

He was adorable to watch darting between the pickets of the fence
and up and down the railroad tie edging to the new garden bed I planted around the outside.

So one day…

Yes the Muses

They bid me to go find a teacup and fill it with seed and set it up on the edging just to see…

I was hoping to snap some close ups of the birds migrating through that spring but the only taker was Munk.
The look on his face after the carefully considered approach…BONANZA !

It took him hours and hundreds of round trips with handfuls of seed back and forth to the den
before he just dumped the whole thing over and sat there filling his cheeks.

How cute I thought.

And it was until a couple of days later when I went out to check on the newly planted beans
and discovered he had thought to add some salad to balance out the carbs.

As I write this the garden is struggling to survive a season of drought
but the replanted beans are beginning to climb
and Munk has been keeping a low profile.

All of which makes Ruth happy.

Red Beet Eggs

Posted on by heather

Seeing it through…the garden gate

I have had this painting title in my sketchbooks for years.

Came close to getting it up on the easel a few times and the Muses were excited
but I let myself be swayed by nay sayers.

My studio is in Pennsylvania and there were some folks here who thought nobody else
in the world would know about the regional tradition of pickling eggs with red beets.

This is the first year that my new kitchen garden beds have been full of dirt and
enough compost to plant some crops and the first seeds in the ground were red beets.

They did famously and when the first batch was ready to be harvested
I got a fresh panel up on the easel ready to go.

I chose to leave out the sugar and sweet onion and spices from this composition
but for those following along with the “Recipe Series” I layer slices of onions, cooked beets, hard boiled eggs and spices then mix, with the beet juice left behind after cooking them…a cup of sugar, a cup of vinegar and basically empty the spice cabinet into it then pour to fill the mason jars.

The longer the eggs are in the jar the deeper purple they get and the sweet savory flavor they absorb
makes for a nice and colorful addition to a salad or a lunch packed for the beach.

My advice…

Listen to your Muses
not the naysayers
and paint what you want.

School’s Out

Posted on by heather

Seeing it through…the eyes of a child

The day after the Derby ended
there was a moment
in the very late afternoon
in the very late fall
when I was buzzing the bite.

I parked at the beach
to wait for my chowder to cool
and I noticed the birds
fighting the frigid wind
had stopped for their own reasons.

I smiled to see the youngster
heading out to the rocky pier
sun dancing on the tip of his fishing pole
and then noticed
that all of the fishermen were kids.

You could tell
because they were running
and jumping
and helping each other
secure their lures
and their hats.

I opened the bag
of oyster crackers
pulled down my hat
thought about
how good it felt to run.

Scallop Season

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Seeing it through…the seasons

I’ve watched the hinges
on this fishing shack door
go through a rich transformation.

My knees were new
when the galvanized grey
was still shiny

My shoulders could carry
the youngest grandchild
when the rust took hold

My eyes were clear
when the bottom one
was replaced

My hands could still
knit sweaters
when the paint started to chip

Now
as you can see
most of the white wash is gone
the screws have given way
and the bottom swings out
when a nor’easter blows across the pond

We’ve seen a lot of seasons
but we’ve both lived
to tell some tales