It’s not quite this white outside my studio window, but the valley is peaceful and the tracks are there, we just can’t see them right now.
New paintings are varnished and Herself delivered them to the amazing John Corcoran, he won’t mind me showing off his new website… click here . He will do his magic, as he does with every one of my paintings, and make a digital record before it heads back here for framing and then off to the designated gallery, or patron.
The early morning studio delivery wagon has just pulled out of the drive with the final tubes and boxes from our winter workshop.
The teakettle is rattling on its way to boil for the first thermos of darjeeling of the day.
A brand new panel is up on the easel, with sketch ready to transfer. Palette ready for some fresh new paints. Curtain pulled back and the view in the painting above is what I have beside me, and all I need is before me.
An email has just come in from Peggy, her thought for today for the artiste,
“Art should be like a holiday: something to give a man the opportunity to see things differently and to change his point of view.” Paul Klee
It certainly feels like a holiday here, the spirits of solstice are sparkling and the view is open to change.
One more day, or perhaps two, and I’ll be finished with the latest commission.I have spent the last few weeks immersed, I wonder if baptized would be a better word, in the, previously unfamiliar, world of Fly Fishing. Every part of this adventure has been exciting to the senses. Meeting the fisherman, listening to his stories, getting acquainted with the gear, watching Tom Skerritt cast his protestant philosophy in A River Runs Through It, and sitting on the carpet of autumn leaves along the bank of my own Little Conewago Creek and listening.
I’ve had one half of the studio blocked off with the set up and I’m ready now to pack that up and let go of the still part of the term “Still Life” and tease out the last bit of magic I have been waiting to add.
Since this is a commission, that fisherman gets the first peek. But stay tuned, I am eager to share the rest of the story.
For today, here’s a look back on one of my first and favorite commissions, from the doorway in my old treetop studio, which still stands along the creek’s bank, treasures from Walt and Lin’s family and a dusting of mother nature as muse…
Painters’ Notes …
Outward Bound
I can’t imagine a Pennsylvania winter without snow.
The howling winds of a Nor’easter. Ice freezing a path across the lake.
Fields covered in white with their stubble of corn stalks stitching their way over the hills
to the horizon. Wood smoke from chimneys on distant farms. Animal tracks crisply outlined in blue white frosty morning crystal. And a shockingly peaceful quiet in the air.
But here we are. The warmest February to date.
Not enough snow so far this fickle season to take a broom to.
In my studio, leaning against a bookshelf, are the snowshoes that Walt’s father was given
in exchange for a country healing. The wooden skies and boots that Lin and the boys have worn thin,
and a leather strap of sleigh bells which now ring their history proudly each time I open the blue door.
So it was that the other morning, when I finally opened my eyes and the good dog Gulliver
nuzzled my arm awake and I managed to put on the layers of clothing in the same order in which they
had been discarded the night before, and, we two, the pup and myself, came to the cabin door…
and the wind actually blew a stinging swirl of snow in our faces…
that I began again to believe.
It only lasted a few hours.Long enough for the snow to build up on the intricate laces of the snow shoes.
For the winter light to reflect its solemn rainbow across the skies…
and for just a touch of warmer light
to remind me that this collection of objects
represents the folding in of two branches
of a great family tree
in testimony to their respect
for nature and heritage.
It’s a wonderfully dreary start to the day before Thanksgiving in central Pennsylvania, the perfect weather for painting.
We, like so many in this land, have a large plucked bird in the fridge and are planning to roast it with most of the trimmings and be thankful. And I am, for many things. But today, I thought I’d concentrated on…the birds.
Watching them, feeding them, learning about them, painting them, and most of all the delight of coming upon the treasured gift of their feathers.
The studio is full of them. Collected over the years, their beauty astounds. With my new bionic knees I am back out on the trails, and the muses are back as well…
After finding this beauty, I decided it was time to get serious about identification so I got this book…
Which I highly recommend. I’ve been pouring over it for days now. And the first one I spied was this one which recently made a supporting role appearance in this painting you might remember…
if you zoom in on the Jorgesen, that would be the clamp for you non-woodworkers, you will see the feather, which…every single one of the avian enthusiasts mis-identified. I have four of them which have been floating around here for years. But right there on page 91…
we see that it belonged to a Chukar !
Further research, at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, reveals that the Chukar is…
A native of southern Eurasia, the Chukar was introduced into the United States from Pakistan to be a game bird. It lives in arid, rocky terrain across the western United States and southern Canada.
And then it hit me…I already knew that. Insert fading memory comments here as you will, but it all came back to me. Years ago, I’ll say 4, I found one perched on my studio garage roof. As you can see, it is a stunner of a bird so it caught my attention, but it is also not a local gal. I also seem to remember that, when first I googled this creature, there was mention of raising these smallish sized birds to release for hunters to take down with big guns, ( picture me here shaking my head in dismay).
The memory of finding the feathers is lost but, when I decided to take the leap to add that little bit of whimsy to Peter’s painting, it was after all a painting of Peter, the birdman of Plymouth, I didn’t have to look far to find the perfect candidate as these four feathers have been tucked into a little blue teacup behind my easel for lo those, I’ll say four, years now.
Above that easel is this display of painting and sketch and original model…
And yes, the muses are right there over my shoulder of late…
Cardinal Wolsey. The ever present window slammer of a bird, is still with me. I now believe she is more than just a disturbed bird. Pat and Finn met a woman at the park last week who, after hearing the story of the intrepid one, immediately suggested that she was someone who I had known who had “passed on” and did I know anyone in the clergy. Well I sat back in my chair at that one. Seriously, my father, the Presbyterian minister, returned as the slammer ?
Possibly ?
I’m still pondering that one.
But this bird is definitely trying to tell me something. She now follows me from window to window and watches me all day long. Hurling Herself at the panes seems to diminish when I settle in at the easel. Then she just flies up and stares at me…the rubbernecker.
Well, ok, that part could be Ted. He is definitely nudging me to focus on painting…probably as I write this…which is taking time away from what I began this blog with…
that perfect painting day.
Well, the dreary rain has turned to our first snowfall of the season. The promise of a winter wonderland, a bird in the oven, one at the window, and two dozen at the feeders…that’s all I need of Thanksgiving.
And, this…to all my friends and patrons, whose support allows me to do the work that is so meaningful to my soul…
Ah dear readers, I am back.
The month of honeymooning was grand. The outpouring of kindness, generosity and celebratory enthusiasm stunned us both. It will take a month of sundays to write all the thank you notes and we are humbled and still smiling with the fun of it all.
Along with all the festivities, came a much welcomed block of time in which to creatively…rest.
There have been lots of times in my life, when I have been forced to take time off from the easel. There were years of interruptions and detours until I stepped off the “I’m going to be and artist” track and began to lift the brushes full time. Since the end of 2001 I have been going full tilt with the aim of making a living out of those brushes and as every self employed person understands, your success is measured in direct proportion to your willingness to show up.
There is, of course, a hell of a lot more than a good attendance record to making a living as an artist, and the balance of persistence, talent and sheer luck is best left to the muses to manage. The support of fantastic gallery owners, the investment of patrons, and a healthy dose of shameless self promotion help to keep the paints and canvas in stock, but what about the creative factor.
I get asked a lot at shows, “How do you come up with ideas to paint ?”
My usual answer is that I have more ideas than I have days left in which to work, and yep that is definitely true. I have never experienced the artist’s equivalent of a “writer’s block”…(insert painting just for the fun of it here )
But, after a decade plus of intense focus with short controlled bursts of weeding and one or two actual days “off”, I found myself, at the end of this summer, in an entirely new place…sheer creative exhaustion. It sounds bloody narcissistic, and it definitely feels that way. Polly would have sharply admonished me to, “shake yourself together !”. Boy howdie did I try that…right up until the wheels of the plane lifted and we were airborne and headed to Albuquerque.
The ensuing month off, far away from the studio, provided a slow unpeeling of layers. Bathing in the breathtaking kindness of true friends, bathing in an actual hot tub, bathing in beauty…hard core color and light…surrounded by new vistas and familiar landmarks, my eyes eventually eased.
It took more time than I imagined, to crawl up and out of that groove, but long about the three week mark the light bulb grew brighter. I remember the morning, when the amber light of the vineyard sunrise angled its way through the pall. I could actually breathe more easily. That crisp October air cleaned out the last of the cobwebs. Finn saddled up in the back of the car. Herself put the camera in her lap. I sharpened the pencil and readied the sketchbook, and off we went…
When I have been away from the studio, on one or another of those “detours”, there has always come a moment, a jolting grip at the core, a stunning urgency in which I simply can’t wait to get back.
Today, after I get home from taking Finn to see her doc about some clean teeth, there is nothing, for miles and miles, between me and the easel. The first panel is up, sketch is on, I laid the fresh paint on the panel minutes ago, audiobook fired up, thermos of hot tea next to the cup…and I am ready.
I’ll keep you posted as the winter progresses but know that, for now, I’m back.
we are leaving…
for the Land of Enchantment…
for a reunion with dear friends,
a show opening
AND honeymoon,
all wrapped up in one.
The laundry is done…
and folded…
and the packing has begun. My artist’s eye is excited to experience new colors on the horizon, and my hard working fingers are looking forward to letting the brushes cool down for a bit.
A personal word of thanks to all who have sent such kind words to acknowledge our wedding announcement. It is just that sort of support which has brought us all forward and I have a deeper appreciation of the meaning of friendship because of you.
Working quite late in the studio tonight, but I’m at this computer rather than at the easel. There’s a lot of “business” stuff to this full time artist deal and it allows me to stretch some other creative muscles. Tonight, it’s writing.
No, not this blog, Painter’s Notes. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you will have found your way to this logo,
It appears at the bottom left of each of the large format image pages, which are found when you click on a thumbnail in the Portfolio section of my website. The logo takes you to the little journal writing that I do for each painting. Long story, written up somewhere in the archives here, but for now, let’s just say that once I got started…I wasn’t allowed to stop.
I am not a writer, and the “I have to do the Painter’s Notes” task does tend to be put off until it can wait no longer. Tonight is that night. At least for the five new paintings that are going out to Santa Fe. Well, they have already arrived, ahead of our flight next week out to the land of enchantment.
As I begin, it puts a smile on my face to see the images of The Bogcutter and The Smock side by side…
Our son Jon, and his daughter Zoe.
Jon originally posed for this painting almost 5 years ago. Zoe is 4. She was just a twinkle in Papa’s eye when he hefted the bogcutter on his shoulders and let me sketch away. I’m so grateful now, for the reference photos I took way back then. Everybody changes over a five year time span, but I, unknowingly, caught him just before his life was to shift forever.
That painting sat on the back burner while I gathered up the courage to attempt an honest portrayal of someone I loved. Man it took guts, for me at least. The nudge of that AAC article was the extra shove I needed. That, and watching the passage of time move into warp speed.
The portrait of Zoe was a much more serendipitous affair. She simply wanted to paint next to her Mima. And when I got up to fetch her some clean water…it was all about the raking afternoon light. I wondered if a then 3 year old, would understand the concept of modeling. She loved trying out the new word and was so serious about her craft that the camera, clicking away behind her to capture the fleeting light in her hair, was no distraction. She was a natural at taking direction and held that dear little hand still so I could record the shadow on the dimple.
OK, now it’s later and I may not make it much longer tonight.
But, it’s a start. I’ll let you know when to click on that logo.
Looks like that Hubcap show, Second Time Around, at the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley is a huge success. They have had well over 2400 people through just on the first weekend.
The Exhibit will be up through March 1, 2015 and it would be a beautiful day trip around this time of year. They have produced a new video which I found interesting so I’ve made a link here…Click for Video
Meanwhile, my days are filled with wrapping and shipping two groups of paintings headed out west. The Sugarman Peterson Gallery show opens in less than two weeks…oh my…and Gallery 1261 is having a new show which opens later in October, more on that soon.
Then, I have a large batch of panels in mid-prep in the garage workshop. The electricians have lit up the place, and it has been wonderful to throw the big carriage doors open to the beautiful fall weather, turn up the tunes, and work the day away.
So, though I will not be picking up the brushes for at least the next month, I will be working just as hard at the “behind the scenes” business of making art.
See, you never know…I was surprised, when I had to search my own blog to jog the memory banks, that it was four years ago when the hubcap arrived at my studio door.
If you click on the images below it will take you on the journey which that dear Chevy disc traveled, from side of the road, where the imagination of Ken Marquis picked it, and about a thousand other hubcaps, up…and had an idea, The Landfill Art Project.
Then,
to the hands of this artist,
and the whims of the muses,
to … a MUSEUM ?
Yes, that’s right. That thoughtful, coffee swilling mechanic was tagged to be in select group of hubcaps, which were chosen to represent the Landfill Project …Over a thousand hubcaps which were painted and welded and sandblasted and otherwise tweaked by hundreds of different artists from around the world.
The Museum of the Shenandoah Valley is the opening venue for this touring show.
Here’s a link to their website page… Click Here
Second Time Around: The Hubcap as Art will Open this coming weekend, September 7th with an opening party on the 6th.
They have a video trailer for the exhibition and I’m posting the link here… Hubcap Art Video
As Ted would say… ” that’s sorta fun”
and I’m honored to be included in the launch of this very “green” and groovy project. There are some wild and crazy, and thought provoking, interpretations on the theme which were well worth putting down the wrench, pouring a cup of coffee and sitting down at the computer for a restful purusal between oil changes.
Today was the perfect summer day.
A cool morning spent waiting for the sunlight, to break through the ash tree’s canopy, and settle just where I wanted it on the clotheslines, which had been strung with a white cotton sheet, and clipped with Ted’s pin…Herself, as model, went about watering the garden beds in between bursts of light, and I spent the time picking asparagus beetles off of the fronds.
Then, Finn and Herself headed up to the park for a walk, while I headed inside to work up the sketch, and review the photos, before a quick sanding on the studio porch to get the panel ready.
Then I heard the beep of a text to ask if I wanted ice cream for lunch…and off we went for a beautiful drive through the high summer hills and that rich creamy Reeser’s cone of bliss.
Then a spur of the moment stop at the Old Trail Variety Store on the way home, where we always find something we don’t need but might someday find it’s way into a painting or two. Today it was a couple of old hand forged cooking tools and some impossibly deep red drinking glasses. Stay tuned there.
Home to a dry panel ready for the first pass of paint, and a chat with neighbor Sue who was kindly mowing our lawn and smiling at her grandchildren who had arrived to swim and romp through her yard like kids used to do on a summer’s day. And off went She Who Must Swim, up to the lake, for her afternoon adventures.
A few hours of peaceful painting…and now it is late, but the sky refuses to give up the day, and, having checked in with the Vineyard Gazette for news of the island, I read that today was the running of the Chilmark Road Race.
Since this year’s show included the painting, The Road Race, I thought it was time to check back in here and connect those dots.
I just love the hometown feeling of this summer island event. And the winners get 5 lb lobsters ! That almost makes me want to…well…no. But here’s a taste of victory…
I’m headed home now, the log cabin is hosting movie night and I’m in charge of the popcorn. Here’s hoping you have had at least a handful of these summer days to add to the memories…
Here’s a link to the full article about the race, but I’ve copied it here to read.
Fleet Feet And Tradition Are Heart of Chilmark Road Race
Ivy Ashe
Saturday, August 9, 2014 – 6:14pm
– See more at: http://mvgazette.com/news/2014/08/09/fleet-feet-and-tradition-are-heart-chilmark-road-race?k=vg537f3e3453436#sthash.5bf82Ivt.dpuf
Sheridan Wilbur, 17, of North Smithfield, R.I., woke up at 5:20 on the morning of the 37th annual Chilmark Road Race. She piled into a car with her family and they drove to Woods Hole. There was a bus from the parking lot, the boat ride over, a bus to Chilmark and finally a bus to the starting line of the race.
After that Sheridan needed only her feet, crossing the finish line in a brisk 18:24.55 to earn the top women’s time in the race, placing 13tth overall. Though the rising high school senior has taken first place in her age group before in her four years of running the route, she’d never won the whole thing. But on Saturday morning, she finished with both a victory and a personal best.
“I was running with another woman for the first two miles,” she said after the win. “I started to break away from her then.” The famous hills of the topographically challenging race start to appear at about that point, but as Sheridan said, “As soon as you get to the top, you have the ocean view and you think, oh, the finish is close.
“It was cool just to break the tape.”
David Melly, 21, of Newton, knows exactly what it’s like to break the tape too. The winner of the 2011 race, Mr. Melly blazed to a sub-16-minute finish (15:43.31) to take first place once again. A rising senior at Cornell University, where he competes on the cross country and track squads, Mr. Melly said his familiarity with the course helped secure the win.
“In this race I was pretty much just chilling in second place until the last mile,” he said. “The hills become your friend. You can use them to your advantage.” In the final stretch, everyone has the same advantage: the packs of cheering spectators on both sides of the road, forming a veritable tunnel of support.
“That’s so much fun,” Mr. Melly said. “More than anything else, I think that’s why I keep doing this. It’s the best finish. It’s very, very gratifying.”
As per tradition, the winners of the men’s and women’s races collected massive five-pound lobsters from Larsen’s Fish Market as their prizes. The winners of the kids’ divisions each earned a pair of chicken lobsters. When nine-year-old Jack Lionette of Chilmark stepped up to collect his first-place lobsters, race organizer Hugh Weisman noted the “pretty amazing” time nine-year-old Jack had run: 19:58.
“Holy smokes,” someone in the crowd said. “Damn,” said another.
Jack, who also won his age division last year, said he was “definitely trying to break sub-20,” and had been “sprinting the whole way.” He credited part of his success to a pre-race dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, and ultimately has his sights set on the course record itself (14:38).
Though Jack was the youngest Vineyarder to cross the line first, Michael Schroeder, 19, of West Tisbury took the top overall spot for Islanders, finishing 11th with a time of 18:14.8. Emma Mushnick, 26, of Vineyard Haven, posted the fastest Vineyard time in the women’s race, running a 20:46.85 to take 61st overall and third in her age group.
This year’s field was the largest in race history, with more than 1,600 entrants completing the 5K course. Some were familiar faces, like the purple-shirted MacMaster clan from Pennsylvania. This year, 29 MacMasters took part in the day’s events.
“This year we’re stretching it into in laws,” Keegan Skidmore, 31, said before the race. Mr. Skidmore is himself a recent MacMaster in law, and did the family proud by placing seventh overall and second in his age group.
One group wore pink tutus and matching antennae-like headbands, which complemented the official black race shirts they wore.
“It’s our 10th year running it this year,” said Jessica Donahue. “Last year, when we were running it we decided we needed to do something special.”
But whether a competitor, a spectator or a volunteer, everyone at the Chilmark Road Race finds a way to make it their own.
Susan Brown of Edgartown hadn’t run the race since 1980.
“Today I am 70 years old, one month and one day,” she said. “My goal was to finish, and finish in under an hour. And I did it. I’m still standing.” Then she was off to collect her award, for placing third in her age group, before heading home to celebrate the milestone.
Nathalia Garroway, (22 months old) wearing a floppy sun hat and too-big race shirt, toddled across the finish line with her parents Christopher Garroway and Nadia Popova.
Mr. Garroway and Ms. Popova had intended to bring their two-month-old along as well, ultimately deciding it was too hot for the infant to be outside. But Nathalia was up to the challenge.
“She only stopped once to pick some flowers,” Mr. Garroway said.
Well art fans,
we have a few last minute crisis to find work arounds for here in the studio today…
and the trailer is scheduled to roll outta here in less that 40 hours…
SO, the first thing to give is gonna be this high falootin’, wait-for-it, three at a time…roll-out -the- paintings, production thingy.
Framed and wrapped and taking up a LOT of space in the studio now, are all 16 paintings…waiting for the weather to cooperate so they can be loaded into the trailer for the big haul northeast.
You have seen the first six, and here, all together now, are the remaining ones…
Considered for your approval…The Granary Gallery Show 2014
And there ya go…
We will be at the opening on Sunday night July 20th from 5-7pm
at The Granary Gallery in West Tisbury on the island of Martha’s Vineyard.
Thank you all for viewing and for your continuing support.
