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
Category: New Paintings
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.
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
Tea with the Prophet
Tea with The Prophet – 16 x 20
In a year of fundamental and existential shifts
one of the most profoundly traumatic and transformative
was the untimely passing of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
In a year when not a day went by without weeping that day,
we heard the news, was truly the nadir among all the trials and sorrows.
A test from the Stoic Gods at war with the Muses.
Tribute upon tribute recorded her legacy as a “Prophet of Justice”.
That was a fine place to begin.
The hand painted teacup is among my finest
Her two gilded handles…the scales
The stalwart facade of the wooden bench
flanked by a single marble column…on the left
Iron clad lace trimming a plain muslin cloth
and the beaded stars heavenly hung in dissent
and wisps of whimsy trailing notes of the sublime
Dearest Prophet…may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
Tempest in a Teacup
Tempest in a Teacup – 12 x 13 Available at the Granary Gallery
Shivering here in the studio
the winter winds are swirling about
and a storm is brewing just over the horizon…
in a teacup ?
There is nothing that makes me happier than a monster snow storm in the forecast.
So, as I prepare to batten down the hatches for the Nor’easter predicted to hit us soon..
I’ve created a tiny video for you to get a closer look at this temped tossed teacup…stay safe and SHOVELS UP !!!
All those damned Teaspoons
All those damned Teaspoons – 18 x 26 Available at the Granary Gallery
I have Pete Seeger to thank for this one…and for his lifetime of advocacy and good trouble.
The aging hippie that I am was raised on ’60’s folk music
It runs through my veins and wallows around in my soul
While my fingers can still strum it plays out on my guitar
The aging artist that I am is informed by those chords
And accompanies those rhythms tapping brushes on teacups
Among the many tributes to Pete upon his passing to that big sing along in the sky
were many references to his activism. Lending his powerful musical voice to social, political and environmental justice inspired many a generation.
But this particular parable…inspired my Muses…
Parable of the Teaspoon Brigade
Imagine that there’s a big seesaw. At one end of it is a basket half full of rocks. That end is on the ground.
At the other end is a basket one-quarter full of sand. And a bunch of us with teaspoons, we’re trying to put sand in that end.
A lot of people laugh at us, they say
“Oh, don’t you see, it’s leaking out as fast as you’re putting it in.”
Well, we say, “It’s leaking out, but we’re getting more people with teaspoons all the time. One of these days, you’re gonna see that whole basket with sand so full that this seesaw is going to go zoooom-up in the other direction.”
And people will say, “Gee, how did it happen so quickly?”
Us and our damned little teaspoons.
I don’t remember where I lifted this from but it has been carried over from one sketchbook to another and another for years until…
the Muses decided it was time
the silver topped stick was Ted’s
the well worn cane came by way of my great grandfather
the teaspoons sat in Jane’s shop
the teacups from my shelves…
the magic
the determination
the hope and the joy…
that’s all Pete…
will you grab a teaspoon
and join us ?