The Watering

I’m being told
by voices shouting just over my shoulder
that this one is all down to
THE MUSES.

Well ok then.

Returning from our magical early spring visit to the island
awash in the memories of fields of daffodils
it was fun to find a few of our own blooming in the studio garden.

This is a year of transition for the gardens
after a year of construction and heavy machinery ripping it all up
and sending well established roots hither and thither.

I was expecting
indeed looking forward to
starting all over again with a blank verdant slate.

But Mother Nature finds a way
and we found a few stalwart blooms fighting through the mud and straw
and were greeted at home with a tiny bunch of daffodils for the picking.

What’s that ?
Oh yes, sorry, THE MUSES !!!

Anyhow…
I was sitting in the new studio library going through old sketch books for new ideas
when I came upon some sketches done years ago.
I had called Herself over to the yard to help with a still life
by holding a teacup
over a watering can
which was supposed to be full of …
yep
daffodils.

It had been a last minute idea
and there were only two blooms left at the time
but as an artist we can fake these kind of things
think pre-CGI super powers.

Alas,
not all ideas for paintings make the first cut
and as this one did
get left to percolate in old sketchbooks
until
wait for it…

THE MUSES !!!!!!!!

Since a theme was beginning to blossom
for this year’s Granary Gallery show
it seemed fitting
or rather I was told in no uncertain terms that it was time
to resurrect this composition
and bring it to the easel.

It was totally my idea to put the watering can on the bluff.
TOTALLY.

But yes,
I’m always grateful
for those voices over my shoulder.
Ok yes…

THANK YOU LADIES !!!

Lynn’s Daffodils

Back in our twenties
when the cost of the ferry boat
and a sack of spaghetti fixings
was all we needed of adventure
Lynn would invite a friend or two
or three but never five or more
to come along on a trip to camp.

Her homemade cloth carrying bags
which could double as storm shelter if needed
stuffed mostly with cookies and books
were shoved under our feet for the crossing
and if we stopped
it was only to pee
and usually for me.

My memories of these excursions
drift further and further away
from the smell of the sea air
and the feel of winter cold sand beneath our feet
but my mind’s eye can still see her
Lynn
reaching deep into those duffels
for a handful of bulbs.

Was it every trip
or just a few times.
Did we all help
or watch from rockers.
I can see now
here in my dotage
her mother earth form
kneeling on the bluff
with a rusty shovel
lit from behind
by Camp Sunrises’
sunset.

Being there
for the planting
and plantings
and more
was all of the road I knew
and all of the journey I needed
until this spring…
when all these decades
and spaghetti suppers later
I finally got
to bend down
with the salty spring air
at my old lady back
and to say hello
for the first time
to Lynn’s daffodils.

The Shirt Off My Back

This is a pairing down of what’s left of the original Camp Sunrise.

But it’s by no means the end of her story.
Merely the beginning of the next chapter.

The family endures and they are carrying on the legacy of that magical place.

They have built a new house out back beyond the meadow
and were able to move the original old garage along side.

The old sleeping cottage is there too and the essence of that humble anchor
will live on for the making of new memories for generations to come.

I visited the new site just after the construction was complete.

On the day I drove down the long lane there was a wild and wicked wind storm.

It was honestly touch and go as to whether or not it was safe to get out of the car.

But I did.

I watched from behind the new camp house
as the wind whipped around the newly knotted clothesline
and what did I do…

I ripped the shirt off my back and pinned it in place.

It held.

The new house held.

The legacy holds.

From the new front porch
you can see the white stones clearly in the distance.

They are still keeping us all safe.

I took artistic license to move the clothesline back up to the edge of the bluff.

I didn’t ask
but I think the muses approved.

The Granary Gallery…Blog

Good Morning Art Fans…

Did you know the Granary Gallery has a Blog ?

It’s called… ArtifactsMV

Click HERE to read the latest post on…me.

The show opens tomorrow…and don’t forget to check in here
at 11am tomorrow morning when I will be featuring a video interview
that Herself and I made so that we could “virtually” be there for it.

Stay safe out there and thanks for tuning in !

 

 

Signaling Home – Painter’s Notes

And we arrive…
at the beginning…

I began this painting in January of 2020

It was meant to be a talisman…
something I could literally touch to bring me closer to my dream of living on Martha’s Vineyard

And to be a portal…
a window that could transport me to that bluff on that island

And then everything in the world changed…

Except that dream.

Signaling Home  – 24 x 36

Standing high on the bluff
rising over Stonewall Beach
on the island of Martha’s Vineyard

where centuries of wind and waves
have been chiseling the shoreline back
further with each blow
after stormy blow

Where generations of Langmuir hands
have moved that dotted line of great white rocks
signaling safety in the moonlight
pulling them back and then
further back again

On that grassy sandy ledge
that has listened to my heart
taken the measure of my Muses
rounded off my edges
and holds all I know of love

Here on this edge
of all that I hold sacred
I plant my soul
holding tightly to my flags
and signaling HOME.

I am home.

 

Signaling Home

To officially launch the New Paintings for this year’s Granary Gallery show…

I am going back to the beginning…

Signaling Home – 24 x 36

And…to experience that ocean breeze just a little closer to you…just visit my YouTube channel and enjoy this short video which tells the story behind this painting.

The Flock

The Flock  –  48 x 92

And we have arrived at the end…
only to start at the beginning.

I owe everything Vineyard to my friend Lynn.
She brought me here for the first time.

We would throw a box of spaghetti and some brownie mix
into her car and drive from our shared apartment in Somerville
out to the ferry and over to her beloved island.

It was ten years or more before I even knew there were towns
other than Chilmark.

We drove straight from boat to bluff
and left only briefly for the annual lobster from Larsen’s
…and regular visits to Chilmark Chocolate.

Lynn had the biggest heart I’ve ever known
and its core and depths were chiseled out of those cliffs.

Her honest and joyful humor was wedged in between
every one of the giant stones she tended along her wall.

Her kindness and overflowing generosity
live on in the daffodils that now soak up her spring sunshine.

Her friendship and her family have given me
the closest thing to a home that I have ever known.

The monarch is for her.
Actually it may BE her.

For me
they always will be.

On the day I captured this light
there was a very short window
of this calm after the storm
just enough time
for the sheep to make their way
across the field to where I stood
and as the sun began to set
she flew behind me
and landed on this bend of grass
and stayed until I turned around.

Her smile was exactly as I remembered it
with that laughter and love
come to share the moment
which I had been searching for
all those years
as we had made a ritual of stopping
at this turnout each time we left her camp
to see if the sheep were there
and the muses might be too.

After four decades …
and with a wink and a nod
from one happy dancing angel
they did.

Thank you dear sweet soul.

Sankaty Sails

After a loooooonnnng day of firing up the old framing muscles,
and after an arduous winter, lifting tiny brushes,
and bowing to hard driving muses,
it is sooooooooo nice to look at this painting,
the ferry docks at Wood’s Hole,
and know that in just a little over one week,
we will be right there.

With a car full
of freshly framed oil paintings,
two tired but happy old women,
on board a great iron vessel,
steaming for home.

I never tire of that 45 minute trip.
Even the passages which I have spent deep in the bowels,
catching a few last zzzzz’s on the 7am boat,
before the long drive back to Pennsylvania,
or the one’s where I chose to shelter
from the raging winter storms,
and look out over the freight boat’s rail,
while knitting those fisherman’s patterns,
in the warm and cozy cab of the truck.

For those, and all those other trips,
when the summer sun was shining,
or the October fog blanketed the sound,
when the passengers played with the following gulls,
and the benches left our shorts wet from the waves,
and my camera caught
just the right raking light
on a rigging of canvas sail
that was carrying some other sailor
home from the sea…

I owe all of that magic,
all of those memories,
all that the vineyard has become in our lives,
to that very first voyage,
can it be so close to 40 years ago…
with my friend Lynn.

Sail on silver girl.

Visions revisited…

Last year at this time,
I was polishing up the tiara,
and mirror ball,
for the opening of …

Since then, the dynamic creative production duo of David and Barbarella Fokos,
aka Salt and Sugar Productions
have been dividing their time between studio work, filming and editing of new productions for TAO, The Artist’s Odyssey (check out their updated website),
oh…AND enjoying awards ceremonies at International Film Festivals.

Indeed, news that Visions of Home
was an official selection of NOVA Fest — the Northern Virginia International Film & Music Festival (http://www.novafilmfest.com), came across the airwaves back in March.

Then comes news this week, that TWO of their films will be included in the
Oceanside International Film Festival 2017, next month !!!

Yep, that’s me at the easel again…still painting that blue door !

So, as I am in final production for my next show, at the Granary Gallery in only a couple weeks, I have been given the opportunity to provide my readers and viewers with a special chance to see the movie, Visions of Home, in all it’s seaside glory, here from my website.

For anyone who might have missed it the first go round,
or who may be new to this site because they saw it at some film festival without knowing beforehand who that old woman with the paint all over her shirt was,
and for the rest of you who just simply cannot get enough of watching paint dry,
and do not let me overlook Finnegan’s fan base…

Anyway, David has made a lovely page dedicated to the movie where you can see the trailer and watch the full film and get some backstory, with the wonderful blog post that Barbarella wrote about last years’ debut screening and some of the process behind their process, which alone is worth the read…and he’s included the article which The Vineyard Gazette published around the time of the opening in which they interviewed Barb and David about the making of the film.

So grab a bowl of popcorn,
pull up your lawn chair by the kiddie pool,
put a straw in some cool beverage,
set your favorite viewing device to this link…

Visions of Home

and Herself and I will welcome you into our lives…
and our hearts.

 

Granary Gallery 2016

There you are…

Fifteen paintings to mark the fifteenth year of showing at the Granary Gallery.

Our wildly good fortune has evolved into enduring friendships and unwavering support.

Herself and I are grateful every single day that Chris Morse agreed to hang my paintings on the wall of his Red Barn. For the last fifteen years, he, his wife Sheila, their entire family, the extraordinary staff of the gallery, and the generous patrons and supporters on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, have made it possible for me to wake up every day and go to my studio and …paint.

I am one lucky artist, and I do not take one single minute of the last fifteen years at my easel for granted. With just a bit more of that luck, and all the energy I can muster, we will have many more years of collaboration, and friendship, together.

Thank you all.