Finding myself in need of some inner peace,
I turn to the simple grace of the placing of a clothespin…
Tag: realism
Now here’s a mystery…
Last night I started a painting.
And I replaced my crusty old palette box with a brand new one.
It is just a plastic box to hold the tablet of disposable paper palettes…and this new one comes with a lid… I misplaced the lid from the old one centuries ago.
But, in spite of my excitement over the prospect of being able to cover the paints every night, thereby keeping down the dust…and this week the pollen…which is coating EVERYTHING….
Well, it seems I forgot to cover it…and this is what I found this morning…
If you look really closely, you will see tiny tiny tracks.
It would appear, she writes putting her pipe down next to her deerstalker hat, that some creature crash landed into the raw umber which always anchors that upper left corner, and then walked, or dragged, her fee,t or perhaps wing tips, over to the translucent yellow brown, then ambled down to inspect the greys. The ivory black seems to have held no interest and the path doubles back on itself then forks over to make a straight line review of the warms, ending in a flurry in the bottom right corner as she built up the strength to climb up and over the side, leaving tiny amber tracks on just a few of the brushes before disappearing into the studio night.
I am filing this under the category, “At work in the studio”.
At least someone was…
My palette pal.
May the 4th be with you
After an afternoon of conversing, on the studio porch, about all things Star Wars with Steve and Denise, and hearing about their adventures at the convention in Anaheim, I dug into the archives for this painting, and a visit back to the blog entry about the book Visions…Here’s another look…and a link to read the full post…CLICK HERE
So this morning…
I was taking the first look at the newest addition to the studio library, STAR WARS Art: Visions published by Abrams, (the cheap version). It’s a stellar collection of Star Wars inspired art by contemporary artists.
And it occurred to me that I had done a Star Wars painting too…
Night Games…
While it wasn’t commissioned by George Lucas, that little McDonald’s Toy version of Yoda has been a constant muse since the very early days of the saga and sits ever vigilant by my easel watching… and whispering…
Kudos to the artists whose work fills the new book…I’ll enjoy dipping into that this winter…
and may the force be with you.
I love a craze…
This is Phyllis’s fault.
One photo shared on social media and now look…
And then there’s this…
And this…
Here’s the manual…
And the link to do your own research…click HERE.
This all seemed like a good idea in February. And Pat is now best buds with the farmer over the hill who has loaded up every one of the 40 plus bales we absolutely needed.I have had great fun experimenting with fertilizer and have replaced over 40 washers on the old rugged hose. And, despite our efforts, things are starting to grow…
Most of us on the east coast are experiencing the slow to warm up spring which has been a good thing for us old lady gardeners who have day jobs to which they should be attending. But I’ve already made use of the wisps of straw which collected in the back of the truck in two paintings…so…the bales are props !
There is new life in these old bones and the extra weeks of cooler weather has allowed this gardener to pace herself. I had time to add a new bed dedicated to blueberry bushes…
and build a better lid for the cold frame and an annex to the raspberry bed…
and …weed !
As of yesterday, all the bales are conditioned…read the book…and I’m ready to install the drip irrigation system. The back beds, with the strawberries, were started a month or more ago. There is good growth there and the row cover system allowed me to save the tenders from all three frosty nights.
We got a good rain last night, though it wasn’t enough to wash the poo off of the eagle cam…ugh. And Saturday is the SHEEP AND WOOL FESTIVAL …YEAH !!!!!!!!
So that means today I will have to knuckle down at the easel and limit my outdoor putterings. Seriously. I have a LOT of painting to do.
So, this is Phyllis Disher Fredericks fault !
Where has your hat been lately ?
I don’t get to use this category very often…
the “Where’s YOUR hat been lately” one.
Partly because they are now a vintage item. I’ve been meaning to update the logo
and order some new ones because it’s kinda fun and I’ve noticed the ones on the heads of friends and patrons starting to look a little ragged.
But yesterday I brought out the original to mark the occasion of our first visit to Camden Yards. It was the perfect day for a baseball game and Scott Allocco brought us to his park to play. Nice bonus that the O’s were playing the Red Sox, I left that hat at home.
And, in answer to the Sox fans who lamented my desertion…I’m a fair weather fan at best and a sucker for a good hat.
A beautiful day with a fine friend and another check on the bucket list.
Back in the studio it’s time to …PLAY BALL !
Fiddly Dee
It’s almost, almost that time of year again…
This morning my favorite mystery writer, Laurie R King had a post on her facebook page about the fiddleheads that she scored at a market in San Francisco and tried for the first time. It reminded me, among other things that I wanted to let readers know that her latest Mary Russell novel,
is a fantastic read. I usually save her novels to listen to when I paint especially complicated paintings because she is similarly in love with detail and I get swept away with her thoughtful prose. Makes the time fly at the easel and I always learn something new.
So run to your local bookstore and add this to that pile by your favorite chair. And then go take a walk in this fine spring air and hunt for fiddleheads. Warning, not all ferns are edible so do the research, or trust your local farmers market.
I am working too hard with the brushes to walk amongst the woods, but I am yours…
Dreaming of Fiddleheads
Herb
I was just thinking about this salty old dog today. Herb Slater, one of a kind. Yet another of our Captains who made old bones. Just love that mischievous twinkle.
I’m looking forward to giving Jane a big hug in a few weeks but I’m sure gonna miss Herb peaking out of his workshop doorway in her antiques shop.
Here’s a nice read from Peter Magee, in the Vineyard Gazette, about Herb and the old swordfishing captains of Menemsha.
Piercing the Past – click here to read
The Reveal…
As I write this, on the coldest night of this snowiest winter, this little creek is frozen solid.
It flows just a few feet from our log cabin front porch
and all that magnificent autumn color has settled onto the forest floor.
The rods and reels, vest and fly boxes, weathered wicker creel and landing net,
which my brushes spent hours studying and rendering, have all been packed up
along with the finished painting, and sent north to the gallery.
Now I wait.
For this painting was a commission.
The fisherman found his way to my work, and told me his story.
Then, with a hearty hug and a healthy dose of trust, he said goodbye to his gear
and we dodged the vineyard raindrops, loaded it all up and drove back here to the studio.
I love to do commissions because,
beyond the familiar draw that compels me to the subjects I choose to paint,
there is the lure of listening for someone else’s connection to an object or a place.
For this project, there was the added challenge,
even though I live a pebbles’ throw from this creek,
of not ever having been a fly fisherman.
But, after painting every tiny hair on all those flies I can honestly say…
I am thoroughly… hooked.
This fisherman has requested to see no image of the work
until he can stand in person before it.
I can only hope that I have captured a hint of the grace,
of the peaceful sport and of the gentle man.
For tonight, I write these notes, while I await …
the The Presentation.
And yesterday, at the gallery…
And this morning, the creek which modeled for the painting last fall was displaying another kind of beauty…
A Wild Patience
With appropriate nod of copyright credit to Adrienne Rich, I carved this quote on many a chair slat over the years. Today, as I begin my day in the studio office, it is a trusty touchstone.
The entire rest of the studio, who am I kidding, the ENTIRE studio is in chaos. Stacks and piles of creative detritus have displaced any semblance of order and calm. Remember that bucolic “winter of hibernation” that I so piously settled into…well all that intense creative energy leaves mountains of not so creative debris in its wake unless you clean up after yourself. Which…I…do…not.
Someday, very soon, there will be a reckoning. But here I come to find that it is already March. MARCH for goodness sake. The mantras of inward patience crash headlong into the outward pressures of deadlines for show dates and demands from galleries to provide new work…which is a stupendously wonderful place for an artist to be do not get me wrong…but hello…March !
This would be a good time to let you know that my summer show at the Granary Gallery has been moved up this year. I’ll be reminding you, and my own self, again, but for those who do make travel plans to join us for the openings I wanted you to have a heads up.
The date this year will be July 12th.
And that would account for the WILD part of the patience.
One less week of prep time does mean I have to move some serious paint around now and I have been putting in some very long days and nights at the easel.
I’ve got a new theme going this year, stay tuned, and, as the finished paintings begin to gather in the front corner of the studio, I have to laugh at those muses. While all around me is this insane mess and clutter…each of the panels, when I stop to look, has a quiet calm space and a slightly more muted palette which settles my eye and quiets my mind.
Make of it what you will…I’ll keep plowing ahead until the board of health comes tapping on my chamber door…wait…is that ? …
NO…it’s just Wolsey …ever and always my feathered muse.
In a light filled stable kinda mind…
Immersing myself in the world of Bill Copperthwaite with the arrival of Peter Forbes and Helen Whybrow’s new book, A Man Apart.
The earth is shifting below my studio feet…
and I suspect it will be life altering.
More to come…