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.”
‘Twas a lovely surprise a few weeks back, to receive…by way of a thank you of sorts…a package from Matthew Stackpole. He, by way of Martha’s Vineyard and Mystic Connecticut, and a lifetime of service to both seafaring villages and museums and maritime history everywhere.
He had sent me a copy of the book, The Charles E. Morgan – The Last Wooden Whaleship, written by his father Edouard A. Stackpole. It’s a lively in depth history of the ship and her adventures published in 1967. I’m only part way through and it has me hooked. Great sky chair reading. Thank you so much Matthew.
Matthew and his brother had the run of the Morgan when their father was at the helm of the Mystic Seaport Museum.
So he had fond memories to share when looking at the paintings I had done from the museum and the ship for last years’ Granary Gallery Show.
Then yesterday’s mail arrives and here, in the American Art Collector Magazine article by John O’Hern about maritime art, is that same ship circling back…
I just love it when that happens.
A special thank you to John, as ever.
It takes a village and we have some fine fine humans helping to row our boat.
Well, tomorrow at this time we will be pulling into Mystic for our first stop on the way to the island. And so it is fitting to use this last blog post before the show to catch you up on the investigation into that carving on the spinning wheel at the Mystic Seaport Museum.
THIS JUST IN…
Remember this painting…
The Spinning Loft
And do you remember the detail shot of the carving on this large wheel in the foreground
Well, Follansbee and Co have uncovered some information that brings us closer to solving the riddle of who might have carved it and what building would it have been.
I’m a food historian who consults with museums, film producers, publishers, and individuals.
My training is in archaeology and cooking, and I enjoy applying the knowledge of past cooks and artisans to today’s food experience.
My work is exploring bygone pathways of food history and culture, through building, experimenting, playing, and eating.
I’ve known of her through Peter, and following her on social media, but we haven’t yet met.
So Peter reaches out to his Plymouth pals and they do what they do best…research stuff.
I’m going to copy the thread of their discoveries here, with permission of the author, and then the caveat that she made me promise to include will be there at the end. Clearly these people are driven by brilliant minds, and their super powers are curiosity.
From Peter then Paula,
PF -So the question is: Is the graffiti scratched into this equipment at Mystic, originally from Cordage park, real? Is that a building somewhere around Cordage?
Who would know?
PM -I will want to read her blog later carefully—but yes what mystic exhibits is one third of Plymouth Cordage’s rope walk.
PM -The builidng in the graffiti (which IS fascinating) looks to be a wharfside structure, right? The ell to the right is on pilings over the water. Plymouth Cordage was situated to take advantage of Plymouth’s best natural channel—a piece of relatively navigable water called the Town Guzzle. Certainly long gone by the time of this image around 1900:\https://digital.hagley.org/AVD_1982_231_016
If you look at this map, you can see how the walk was situated….(here’s a clip) I would guess that the building pictured would be between the place it was carved in the ropewalk building and the harbor.
There are other 19th c images I’ll poke around for later
Then Peter assumes he has satisfied my tasking him to get the skinny…
PF – (satisfied) my debt to Heather that is…god knows what I owe PM now…
Then… PM – Also January 25, 1867 — the storehouse at the Cordage Works was “blown down” in a gale and a lot of damage was done to wharves…. that could have been the end of that building (WT Davis, Memories, p 221)
And again a day later…
PM – In its earliest iteration the Cordage consisted of a rope-walk, wharf, storehouse and other buildings (incorporated August 1824).
Huge expansions came by the late 30s, with the adoption of steam power, but the walk itself might function the same regardless of power source.
I can see from the same source that two Carrs (Andrew and Patrick) had been working for the Cordage for decades by 1900 —then both around middleaged and having started working there young — Patrick at 9).
My money that a little more research will suggest their father, Belfast emigrant William Thomas Carr, produced these graffiti after lunch on August 4th, 1851, while his foreman was out sick with “a summer complaint, brought on by eating blackberries and cream”. Okay, we probably won’t get to that satisfying a level of detail. But the first two paragraphs are documented at least.
And quickly after I asked if I could share this here…
PM –
Sure, Heather, with the proviso that it is very “tossed-off” and incomplete—I should be working on my own problems, but I get so sucked into these kinds of questions (in case that’s not apparent) but I’m always surprised when others are interested. And although I was joking about the elder Mr. Carr from Belfast, I would not be shocked if I could get a little further with his identity—the Cordage was great at record-keeping. In it’s first fifty years at least it was the very model of a paternalistic enterprise — its founder had very high ideals and took a distinct interest in the welfare of the workers and their families.
Here’s the bibliography so far. (There are lots more cordage publications, too, that I haven’t looked into yet.):
The Plymouth Cordage Company; Proceedings at Its Seventy-fifth Anniversary
By Plymouth Cordage Company (1900)
Plymouth Memories of an Octogenarian
By William Thomas Davis
History of the Town of Plymouth
By James Thacher
Now wasn’t that cool to learn about ?
I know, me too, I love the library at our fingertips time we live in.
And I love that all these people are making their livings today by dabbling in centuries old traditions and crafts.
If you want to learn more about such endeavors,
I encourage you to start by doing some of you own research,
and I’ll make it really easy for you…
It takes a village and I’m grateful to Paula for taking the time to provide us with some answers. When I get home, I’m going to follow the breadcrumbs she’s left.
Thanks to all of you for tuning in.
And thanks to Liquid Web
for making this blog work like lightening.
Now that this thing can keep up with me I will be posting more regularly.
Stay frosty out there and I’ll let you know when the brushes are once again…flying.
Remember that spinning loft ?
All those woven fibers.
This painting started out to be about the boat.
Behind that cross of knotted rope
is the hull of a whaleboat
suspended from the rigging
along the side of the Charles W. Morgan
come to rest in the harbor
of the Mystic Seaport Museum.
The muses wanted to tell
a different story.
Distill the elements
down to the three..
The rope
the boat
and the sea.
I found a Yankee Magazine video…
of the historic modern day voyage
that the MS Museum made possible in 2015.
Like a freshening breeze,
it takes us onboard the ship
for an upclose look at what it takes
to get her under sail.
And what I saw…
Rope.
Thousands of yards
of Rope.
HUZZAH !
to all who invested
time and treasure
to bring this magnificent
vessel back to life.
We have one more stop to make in Mystic.
A short walk from the Morgan is a lonnnnnng building
And this is the Spinning Loft,
below which is the Ropewalk at the Mystic Seaport Museum.
There is a short video ...click here...which shows a bit of what this room was all about,
and you can read more of it’s history there as well.
But it really is worth a visit to let all your senses dive into this space.
Resonant with the century old aromas of hemp and salt air,
the velvety soft patine of well worn wooden surfaces,
the sensuous flow of the carded fiber,
it positively sings history.
The perspective isn’t skewed, this building is really 250 ft long,
and it was only one section of the original Plymouth Cordage Company,
which operated until the mid-1900’s and was then moved to the Mystic village.
Here are some close up shots to lure you into the lusciousness of the fibers…
and the long walk back in technology…
And there’s a mystery…
As is so often the case,
when I returned from one of several visits to the museum
and reviewed the thousands of reference photos,
I spied this carving on the giant spinning wheel.
Those frisky muses.
Round about my birthday,
the Follansbee came through on his trek to teach some woodworking down south,
and, being a carver of woody things,
I showed him this part of the painting,
whereupon he said that Plymouth Cordage used to be a company town built around the rope making industry.
I went down a serious rabbit hole after googling it.
I’ll leave those historic details dangling for anyone interested in doing their own research,
but the point here is that many of the old buildings remain in town.
These Painter’s Notes will serve as a reminder to Peter that he said he would look into seeing if anyone in those parts recognizes the building from this carving…
well…from my rendering of the carving.
That should be sorta fun.
For me,
it’s all about the peaceful art…
of spinning.
I am pleased to invite you all to the island of Martha’s Vineyard for the opening of my 2018 show at the Granary Gallery.
Sunday August 5, from 5-7pm
I’ve been in a full tilt painting sprint since January and I laid the last of the brushes down only a few hours ago.
The work this year takes us to a few new places, has a few new faces, and takes some head long dives into depth and detail.
I’m as eager as I’ve ever been to launch the annual rollout of New Paintings. It will be the first chance I get to see them as an entire show. During the long months of production, the finished works are set aside to dry in stacks throughout the studio until it is time to begin varnishing and photographing. Due to space limitations here, this happens in stages and until I walk into the gallery on the afternoon of the show, the first glimpse I get of them all together is on this blog as I unveil them to you…dear viewers.
So let’s get right to it…
Let’s take a boat to Mystic…
The Cooper’s View – 24 x 28
There are a couple threads of themes which run through the 14 paintings for this year’s show. This painting weaves two of them together. Mystic and Me.
When I was a young girl living in Swarthmore, PA, our family would escape the dangers of Mischief Nights around Halloween and drive up to New England. I have vivid memories of exploring Mystic Seaport in Connecticut. My father loved boats and was building a wooden model of the Cuttysark around that time, and some of those interests filtered down to me…but I didn’t appreciate it back then.
What drew me in was the Cooperage. The Mystic Seaport Museum is a magical collection of all things maritime and wooden boat building and seafaring lore. A historic seaport village, along the banks of the Mystic River, brings maritime life in the 1800’s… alive.
From their website…“The buildings you see aren’t replications–they’re trade shops and businesses from the 1800s that were transported to Mystic Seaport from locations around New England. The village is made up of many bustling maritime trades, from shipsmiths and coopers to woodcarvers and riggers.”
So picture a 10 year old girl, whose three younger brothers are running off the energy from the long car ride, while she walks into the dark and dusty cave of the Cooperage.
( I have added a link here to the museum’s website where you can watch a nice little video and see inside the place for yourself.)
I was fascinated.
A small shack full of wooden barrels, and piles of wood shavings, and a shaving horse…
Fast forward about 20 years or so and look where that little girl was sitting…
I wielded my own drawknife for a decade making chairs and spoons and baskets and such. Then I put down the woodworking tools and picked up the brushes.
Fast forward another 20 years and that little girls has just turned 60.
And, on one of her now regular trips to New England, she returned to Mystic and once again stood inside the dark wooden den of the Cooperage…and turned around.
The Cooper’s View is just that. On this crisp fall day the sunlight bounces off of the t’gallant sails being raised on The Morgan which is docked just outside of the shop.
The Charles W. Morgan is the last of the American whaling fleet and was painstakingly restored at the Mystic Seaport Museum. (here’s a link to the museum’s website with a complete history and chronicle of her restoration…Click Here.)
We will go on board that ship in tomorrow’s blog post, but linger here a while and soak in the salty air and take a closer look at that rigging…
enjoy the playful pastel diagrams drawn inside…
and study the roman numerals carved on the barrel stays…
The artiste has taken license, in an autobiographical way, and added her own hatchet and well worn drawknife to authenticate the pastiche.
It was deeply moving for my 60 year old self to stand in that shop again and realize that I’ve come full circle, and back around yet another one, to complete a creative cycle that my 10 year old self didn’t even know how to dream of.
