That dear man had mad mad organizing skills. I have never ever seen anything as satisfying as the order which he brought to his vast collection of tools.
It was sublime.
There was another room the opposite wing on this beautiful barn which at one time had every square inch covered in minutely crafted rows upon rows of multiple variations hanging together like a symphony written on dusty brown wooden walls one note at a time.
I stumbled on this shop at the Mystic Seaport Museum for the first time last year. It was October and early in the day and for some reason it was empty of people and full of tiny treasures.
Half my life ago I was a woodworker. My shop was in the basement of a log cabin. There was an annex of sorts, the back porch, which was covered. I kept the shaving horse and chopping stump out there for whittling the green wood down from log to chair parts. Sitting on that bench I had a private water view and families of wild creatures along the creek who shared their songs and dances and whispered dreams with me.
My father worked with wood. It was a hobby he did alone and also in basements. Growing up we moved a dozen times and I remember a long cardboard box held together by wide brown Allied moving van tape in which he carefully stored a wooden ship model kit. The Cuttysark.
It was off limits to his four wee children but once or twice I got to see him with an xacto knife trimming tiny parts and a tweezer pulling black thread through the blocks until he completed it and built a display case and brought it up to the dining room.
And I remember well the excitement, curiosity and wonder in his eyes when we visited Mystic for the first time. When I pause like this to think about it there are quite a few loves that we shared.
Maybe he is smiling somewhere reading this and seeing that I have my own long cardboard box and xacto knife with wee wooden bits of the Cuttysark waiting for me on the library shelf.
When a boat comes back home to the mother ship the command is given to “Rest Oars”.
This boat lives aboard the sailing ship the Charles W. Morgan in the Mystic Seaport Museum and according to their site it is the oldest commercial ship still afloat. The Morgan was built in 1841 and used to hunt whales for oil and baleen. It is a magnificent vessel and the museum has done an outstanding job of restoring her.
As with all the buildings and ships at the museum, they are preserved to tell our history and keep the stories alive.
The story of the whaling industry is deeply woven into maritime history and the telling of that story is as brutal as it is adventurous. No one told it better than Melville and my copy of Moby Dick was the first book I read in my new studio library.
The US chapter of that saga was ended when those oars were given the command to rest in 1971. The Morgan’s whaling days ended well before that in 1921. When we know better we do better.
What I love most about this little whale boat is that every time I visit the museum someone is nearby or often sitting in it telling how and why it was used.
In its simple design and complicated patina it is a touchstone to the generations of sailors who went down to the sea in ships.
And then Maggie and I took a walk. Through the seaport village of Mystic, along the harbor’s edge, and out back to the shipyard.
A truly dog friendly museum with water bowls and benches and grassy greens in between the historic buildings… and ships. Vessels of all manner and size and in every degree of completeness and restoration.
As we rounded the harbor into the working shipyard we ran into the behemoth of a hull of the L.A.Dunton. Drydocked for a major restoration, the commercial fishing schooner which was built in Essex, MA in 1921, was awaiting the ship carpenters to do what they do best…preserving ships and their history so the stories can be seen and told a hundred years from now.
Out of the water she stood at least two stories tall. Stem to stern is 104 feet of massive wooden planking. As we walked around the rear of the ship the sun… there goes that wonderful sunlight again… was raking over the hull. The top half was deeply in shadow the beneath the slanting line the rust and paint work was alive with color.
The blazing red and the electric golds. Walking up close I noticed those ceramic squares attached to different areas of the surface. Worn almost to the point of disappearing, I could still read the words…
Do Not Paint Well consider me challenged Muses…you’re on !
My first art teacher Jim Gainor used to tell us… Paint the air not the chair. That giant negative space created by the opening where the propeller is housed presented the perfect frame in which to paint the masts of the Amistad as I saw them just around the corner that day.
PS- The Docent at Mystic seemed to think that the plaques were meant to warn shipwrights because the type of paint used would corrode the surface of the metal fastenings. I observed that over the years this warning was overlooked.
It began when the sun broke through. Standing on the deck of the Charles W. Morgan, in the seaport village of Mystic, on a cloudy October morning, I was studying the pattern of ropes and getting lost in the tarry darkness of her shrouds. When suddenly the gun metal gray sky split apart and sunlight filled the ship. Through the rigging, and across to the other side of the dock, it sent a brilliant shaft that lit up the towering masts of the Amistad*.
The sunlight washed over now glowing wooden surfaces, highlighting and warming the white of the sails as they spilled over the lines and ropes which gathered them loosely to the iron rings.
I was once again moved by the power of the Muses who so often shove me into “seeing” something deeper in what was right before my eyes.
But the story didn’t end there, bathed in all that revelatory sunlight.
When I got home to the studio and began to study both my sketches and reference shots I did some research into the history of the Amistad, the one at Mystic being a reproduction of the original slave transport vessel, and found my way to a stunning photograph of the ship sailing fully rigged and sailing on the water. Talk about the sun breaking through…
After much soul searching I did something I have never done. I contacted the photographer to humbly ask permission to use her image as a reference. Within minutes I heard back from Caryn B. Davis with a gracious response and nod of ok. The afternoon I spent wiggling down the rabbit hole learning about her and the stunning images she captures of gardens, landscape architecture, and from her travel adventures and perusing her articles and books on her website was magical. Treat yourselves with a look.*
Permission in hand, the composition now took on a completely different narrative. The Amistad I had first seen in Mystic was docked for repairs and maintenance. Beautiful in her bare bones, the rigging and mast details were telling one story. One in which the patina of weather and sailor’s toil was alive.
Then I got a glimpse of her glory through Caryn’s lens.
The Amistad, sails alive with sunlight and billowing with ocean breezes, brought the exuberance of adventure on the high seas bursting through the doors, into the studio, and before me on the easel.
The high seas.
A place where my head had been living in earnest for most of the winter. At sea and onboard ships. Massive old wooden sailing vessels. And one ship in particular.
I have signed on to a fascinating citizen scientist project and now spend the early hours of my days up in my studio loft reading and editing the log book for the US Jamestown. Focusing on her voyages starting just before the outbreak of the Civil War in June of 1861. Every corner of my world is now brimming with books of reference for all things maritime and US history from that era. From the now well thumbed copy of The Sailor’s Word Book to books about how to rig a ship, tie all manner of knots, the history of the US Navy, genealogy of the Civil War Era and how to make sense of some very flowery handwriting and grammar written 200 years ago.
There is a huge and ongoing learning curve for me embarking on this log editing voyage. It is challenging and thrilling on every level. Every time I get to transcribe the words…”BEAT TO QUARTERS !!!” I scream them out like Captain Jack Aubrey. I have spent over 260 swashbuckling hours at the easel listening to the entire Aubrey/Maturin Series written by Patrick O’Brian.
Making vivid every sensation and detail of life aboard those sailing ships, Master and Commander was my Master Class and helped to illustrate many of the “obscure to me” terms and words I have been trying to interpret from the Jamestown log book. I know where an Iron Norman goes, what the punishment is for dropping a marlin spike from aloft, and I can Holystone a deck in any fathom.
This full on emersion has permeated every corner of my world. Along with the new reference books, the shelves of the library are filling up with old ink wells and pens, bits of rope that I’ve used for knot tying practice, and boxes of wooden ship models are there waiting to be tackled. And it has filtered down through the Muses and into the subjects… and objects…in many of this year’s paintings.
The synesthesia of ocean, islands in the ocean, history, maritime and otherwise, the images the muses bounce around inside my brain, the images I see outside my studio windows and the studio itself have all merged into the arching narrative of the Granary Gallery 2024 Show…
Seeing It Through.
Notes and Links
*Caryn B. Davis Photography
carynbdavis.com
*From the Mystic Seaport Website and Discovering Amistad:
mysticseaport.org
discoveringamistad.org
“In 1839, Mende captives from Sierra Leone took control of the ship transporting them to slavery, the Amistad. Unable to navigate back to Africa, the ship was captured and towed into the port of New London in Connecticut. The Mende were faced with slavery or execution, and their cause was taken up by many residents throughout Connecticut. U.S. Circuit and District courts ruled in favor of the Mende. This case was then appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court and in 1841 this court agreed with the lower court decisions and the Mende captives were ordered freed. The vessel on display is a reproduction of that ship. It was built at the Mystic Seaport Museum Shipyard and launched in 2000.
The Amistad is an iconic representation of the fight for justice and freedom in the United States and beyond. Discovering Amistad is a non-profit educational organization that provides year-round programming, inviting children and adults to discover the story of the Amistad and its impact on Connecticut and the nation through the present day. The 128-foot replica of the schooner and the lessons of the Uprising aboard it in 1839 provide the foundation to explore the concepts of freedom, power, justice and equality.
Since its establishment in 2015, Discovering Amistad has welcomed thousands of visitors aboard the ship to provide insights into Connecticut and the nation’s history through the lens of a floating classroom.
In addition to a classroom curriculum, in recent months, the organization has expanded its programming to offer online learning, dockside education and leadership training, and magnified its partnerships to address injustice, promote diversity and facilitate conversations about the role we all must play in dismantling systemic racism.
As the nation continues to wrestle with the painful realities of racism and oppression in our society, the lessons of the Amistad, and the fulfillment of Discovering Amistad’s mission have never been more relevant.”
And since my last blog entry was over 8 months ago, I’d say it’s time to re-enter the sphere of social communication and see how everyone is doing out there.
It’s a sizzling summer and by now, most of you who are under the massive dome of excessive heat have at least one new way to keep cool. You gardeners out there are definitely getting creative with watering techniques. The/We Boomers amongst us have finally given in to comfortable orthopedic shoes and jar openers. The great grandbabies of we boomers are proudly parading in their Pride onesies. And our canine companions are slowly beating their tails to a different drummer just to keep their cool vibes going.
Here in the studio things are also heating up.
The annual Granary Gallery Show date is visible on the calendar and we are getting excited. For the first time since the pandemic shifted all our worlds Herself and myself….and Maggie will be attending the show opening in person !
None of this virtual phoning in nonsense. We are looking forward to seeing all of you and reminding you just how much your support, friendship and patronage means to us.
The Muses threw a curveball right around spring training time and gave me a theme to work with for this year’s show.
Seeing It Through
I’ve had some months now to work with this creative challenge and am going to see if I can convey the journey in the Painter’s Notes. Keep an eye out for them in the coming weeks.
The annual rollout of new paintings will happen early this year so stay tuned for that as well.
Well I bring you all of that and more with these two new works which are winging their way out west to Gallery 1261 in Denver Colorado. My garden friends are floating out there on whisps of thistles and gossiping among the sunflower petals with stories of color and light from the new studio.
The show opens soon… November 11, 2023 and runs through the beginning of December. Perfect for holiday viewing and brightening up these shortening days.
Sending you all manner of light and love from the warm and cozy autumn studio… me.
Was it only a week ago that we were gathering here in anticipation of the Granary Show Opening …
I’m up in the office loft writing this post and listening to WMVY, the Vineyard Radio station, and of course after composing that last sentence they began playing the Dead’s Uncle John’s Band…oh oh oh where does the time go ?
Those silly Muses…Ted being the most funnest among them.
I’m happy to report that the news from the gallery is delightful with red dots accumulating and generously positive comments from viewers. There seems to be particular interest in one very small detail…a single drop of water…
Photo Credit Barbarella Fokos… and here’s a pic of Barb and David and his mom at the opening…
Photo Credit Katie Morse (Gallerista)
Barb also drew my attention to the section of my website, The Road, which features their Feature Film…Visions of Home and which had one of those broken link things. Happy to report I have fixed that this morning so here again is the proper link to view a trailer and have the option to rent or buy the film…just click on the image below.
WMVY has moved on to Robert Cray’s “The forecast calls for pain” …well it’s been a cloudy morning with spits of rain so…
I’m going to address the mountain of paperwork just to the left of this keyboard now but out of the corner of my eye I can see the library below with the studio motto hanging in gold leaf above the hearth which is the all and the only thing to say about that single drop of water…
Have a wonderful late summer day and enjoy the littlest of details.
A grand good morning to all of you readers friends and patrons alike…
It dawns bright here in the studio with some cooler weather drifting in so we can throw open the windows and clear out the cobwebs. With the first cup of coffee firing up the neurons I’m heading out to the garden to find a shady spot to weed. Glory days.
It’s hard to be here and not there, on the island, ironing my show shirt and getting ready to see well loved faces at the show opening and a surprise wave of sadness washed over me last night. We are so grateful for the beloved gallery family who I know will be there for us to represent and to shine a light as they do for all their artists. if you are on the Vineyard and headed to the gallery please give them each a hug for us. They are good huggers.
This morning I’m going to wipe away those tears and go to the happy place of tending to the tenders outside. Time to get a jump on starting the fall crops. Maggie wants to start with the mountain of dirt that we’ve been slowly shoveling into the new kitchen beds. Sounds good to me. Then when the sun moves a bit we can settle in to clear the asparagus bed of all that creeping Charlie.
Herself is clearing off the porch so we can enjoy a fresh tomato sandwich for lunch. Our pal Maureen is coming with an armful of cheeses and while those two watch the tennis match Maggie and I may just spend the afternoon at the easel listening for the whisper of Muses.
Wherever these words and paintings find you I hope there is a bushel of light, a wheelbarrow full of laughter and teacup full of peace.
All of you who took the time to send me support and love in response to the roll out of this years’ Granary Gallery show…
It is not a throw aside gesture to say that it makes all the difference because to me it absolutely does. We won’t be able to attend the opening in person but from here in the late summer studio I can feel the hugs and see the smiling faces virtually via your likes and comments which goes such a long way towards affirmation and your kindness is contagious.
Maggie and I got some tomatoes gathered this morning and in this hottest part of the year the tall bushy green beans are apparently not as special a treat as her long gone sweet peas but our girl has bunnies to chase and a field of wild clover to roll in and we send you all a bucket of thank yous … may your teacups overflow with sweetness.
My Sweet Pea
This was all Maggie’s idea.
Originally the intent was to have this composition focus up close on my hands shelling those beautiful peas into a teacup.
I had the panel prepped and the frame ordered and it was the very last of the paintings for this years’ Granary Gallery show.
But when it came time to sketch it out I couldn’t quite get the positioning of the hands right just by drawing them in front of a mirror.
So I set things up in the new studio and called Herself over late one night to push the button on my camera.
She brought Maggie who upon seeing the pea pod came hurtling to devour the treat.
This has been Maggie’s first year in the garden and after a crazy hot spell of a start to the season when I feared the loss of all of the cool weather crops we had a glorious run with the peas.
Both snow and shelling peas took off and it became clear that Maggie LOVES peas. She would sit patiently next to the trellis waiting for me to catch up on our walks and reach over the fence to grab her a handful of pods.
Just melted this old gardeners’ heart.
Back in the late night studio photo shoot we managed to convince Maggie to lay quietly beside Pat as she snapped pics of my hands in different positions.
I sent them home when I climbed up to the loft office space to look at the photos and see if I could work from them. I needed one more take so back they came.
Something was amiss with the focusing on the camera and the extra fussing must have annoyed the pup because as I settled back onto my stool and tried to hold my hands extra still that little bundle of whiteness crept up and came over to my side and ever so gently she layed herself down just as you see her here
with one paw on my boot waiting patiently my sweet pea for her sweet pea.
