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.

Granary Gallery 2021

Well it’s time !

My Granary Gallery Show is about to be revealed.
The show opening is Sunday August 15th.

And while Herself and I will be continuing our Pandemic Protocol here in the studio…

The paintings have arrived safely on the island.

The gallery staff has gone out of their way to insure safety and protection for the best possible patron experience.

There will not be a typical show gala reception this year. But they are OPEN for business and so are we.

So here we go…

The first painting to share with you is the very first one I did for the show…I hope you enjoy and stay frosty out there !!!

Vituoso

There is a pause in every year
here in the studio
in between those intense months
of lifting tiny brushes at the easel
after the paintings have flown to their new homes

When I catch up on overlooked chores
and bring the unfinished mystery novel
out to the sky chair
only to end up watching the catbirds
rearranging their whispering garden twigs

or…if it is winter

When I sit with a cup of tea
in the patron lounge chair
and a newly gathered stack
of well worn books
and visit with my old master friends

An interval when
during these pauses
I let the creative energies drift
enjoying and listening to
a different rhythm…

when suddenly
the Muses go SNAP !

I have come to know and trust
as my artiste self “matures”
that it’s only a matter of time
before there will soon be a pile
of offerings before me

Feathers and teacups
shards of color
shiny bits and bobs
a jigsaw puzzle of treasures
which have caught their fancy

Dumped now on the table
to test the mettle
and tease the wanderer back
once again sparking that sizzle
tempting me out of that stasis of revelry

Calling me back to the work
which has come to define
the essence
the very core
of all that is meaningful

of who I am in this world…

An Artist.

More Prints Available…

How are you all doing on this fine summer afternoon.
It’s cool here inside the studio, but outside the zinnias are loving them some hot and steamy temps.

I went around and picked a bucket of flowers for Herself to arrange the other day and spotted some swallowtail caterpillars chomping their way through the carrot patch.

It reminded me of this painting, The Reverie…

Which got me thinking about how I’ve been meaning to update the Print section with a few more paintings.
So, taking advantage of the air-conditioned office, I have just added 9 new ones to the page.

They kind of randomly populate the PRINTS page when I load them so I’ll let you see them here for review and for fun.
I’m still battling the learning curve of the new Gutenberg editing program and I can’t…as yet…figure out how to hyperlink each of the images below. But they do all appear on the Prints page so you can find the info there if you’ve a mind.

Stay safe and cool out there and watch for those butterflies.