Everything old is new again. And in this case it’s the gate. Which Nathan helped me rebuild at the entrance to the studio leaving this old worn section just hanging in the wind with nowhere to swing.
Everything around me is changing. And that includes the landscape of the studio yard. When I started work on this composition the space between the gate and that red roofed garage was a patch of weeds laid bare after I had moved all of the raised beds to make way for the new studio.
Here is a picture from yesterday of that same gate at the writing of these Painter’s Notes…
I wanted to mark the passages of moving the old front gate out back to give me a new doorway into the Ruth Stout garden. And to have one lasting look at that empty space beyond it which very very soon will be a place where I can sit at my easel chair and reach out the window on a summer day like today and pluck a ripe cherry tomato.
This is one of the rare paintings I’ve done which qualifies for two categories. It’s both a candidate for the Recipe Series and for the Garden Graces Series.
There have been several incarnations of initial sketches for this one over the years. The final composition actually was spot on as a blend of them all.
My hope was to be able to grow the leeks as well as the potatoes and strut with garden cred pride. Alas, the Allium Leaf Miner flew into my yard a few years ago and declared war on anything I tried to grow in the allium family.
Garlic, onions, leeks…poof.
With an organic approach there was not much in my arsenal that worked to eradicate them until … the netting. I’m talking serious dedicated covering.
Since garlic is planted in the fall I leave it alone until February then secure the netting over the entire bed. This year’s attempt handled the snow and hail and held up all the way to the scape harvest in May.
I had two large beds planted in garlic and I’m that chuffed to report that 100% of those bulbs are now seasoning in the greenhouse.
With that success behind me I am ready to tackle leeks… next year when all the construction is finished and the puppy who loves to dig is under control and I can devote time to careful planting and tending.
The Ruth Stout garden is transitioning into basically a giant potato bed. They love the rich soil that the repeated dressing of hay mulch is building. This year’s drought arrested their development some but I was pleased to see that there were enough new potatoes to make the traditional summer batch of Vichyssoise.
The easter egg hunt feel of harvesting potatoes by simply pulling back the blanket of hay is so satisfying that I am on my second batch of soup and August has just begun.
The pitcher was a funny twist the Muses threw at me. Back when I was imaging one of the first incarnations of this composition I wanted to represent the cream somehow and saw one of those cow vessels and thought it would be perfect.
So late one night I surfed through Ebay and found this one and clicked right away. Probably paid top dollar and then some because I am an impatient auction bidder.
When it arrived it was much bigger than I thought. I was going for some demure cream pitcher size but, as I say, the Muses had other plans. I was going to fool them and shrink it down with some sharp pencils and artistic license.
But when it came time to arrange the still life on my kitchen table with the new apprentice offering suggestions for where to place each of those spuds… (I removed the puppy teeth marks in the actual painting)
…well I actually did like the statement that the large format cow was making. They seem to have gotten the balance just right again.
PS- Maggie wants me to tell you that she helped tie the chives in a bundle. (show off)
PPS – AND… I’m suppose to tell you that the little felt heart was her contribution. I actually was wandering the studio looking for something that might, if ever so loosely, represent the chicken broth.
In the process of that Herself brought me the tiny heart and asked what it was from. This was the second one we found so I knew.
Maggie got a little puppy puzzle house complete with baby chicks at easter. Yes, I know, and I’ve gotten plenty of slack for it but it has become her favorite game…so there.
Here is a photo of the last of the fully intact chicks and you’ll see where that precious little heart came from.
Those nights were restless after the flood. Unable to climb the rickety stairs in the studio I was sleeping on a tiny lumpy daybed in a corner crammed with some of the things we had rescued and after long stress filled days it was a welcome and safe harbor.
In the quiet dark I wrote long winded passages to my friend Beth unburdening some of the days’ burdens and her gift of listening was its own blessed harbor of safety.
Somewhere deep into those nights as I lay awake looking out the picture window the sky had cleared and the world had grown dark enough that I realized I could see the stars from my bed.
Back in the cave like dark of the log cabin I had once surprised Herself by painting glow in the dark stars on our bedroom ceiling it was the closest we got to the real thing and those stars are probably still glowing at night over there.
Here now, on that starry studio night, I was overwhelmed with magic C.S. Lewis’s …Surprised by Joy …kind of magic a profound and fierce wave of it.
I can’t remember if I sat up right then or if it was later at dawn but I wrote to Beth and wrote and wrote.
It was the exact moment when everything shifted again but this time toward the light and the idea for a new studio came to me in one complete flash.
Sketchbooks are never far from my hands and I dug out the sweet jewel of a ruler which has heretofore been only a prop but one of my most treasured objects with its delicate markings and sleek leather case softened by HN Lockhart’s hours of work… I wrote “Reach for the Stars” on the paper… and let the Muses take the wheel.
Now I’ve painted my share of houses inside and out and on my easel with both big and tiny brushes and I know my way around building things but it soon became clear I’m not an architect
but Beth knows a guy her Michael.
When it came time for my sketches to meet with his expertise I ceremonially handed Michael that ruler and said…”design me a studio around this”.
He did.
And today as I write there are big machines moving mountains of dirt and stone pipes being laid walls going up and that new studio is being built.
I’ve made a point over the years of telling my most authentic truth through my artwork.
Breadcrumbs along the way.
This painting is one such marker.
That is the original sketch the very ruler with my hands in motion.
When I sat down at the easel to bring it to life it was April and the lilacs were in full bloom.
Today August has begun and, while there have been many other hands moving to get us to this day, I want to give special thanks here to Beth and Michael who were there at the beginning listening to my story about the stars.
Next month we will celebrate Mother Nature’s great flooding shove.
Celebrate ?
Well heck yeah. We are still here… together our tiny family just a bit wigglier and furrier making the best of turning the old studio into our new living space and now the summer is in full swing and we are sitting on the back porch in our old lady rocking chairs watching big machines move heaven… and lots and lots of earth in the service of building us a new studio with extra space and light… lots and lots of light.
This painting was the first one up on the easel after we had shifted the old studio around enough for me to begin again. It was early last winter and we were discovering the pleasure of eating breakfast together in the sunrise studio kitchen before I got to work. Herself was enjoying watching how the early rays of light stream across the snowy yard and wake up that magnificent stone barn. And we were beginning to move on from survival mode to the counting of our blessings.
Here we are with half a year flown by… The solstice has come and gone The daisies are in their second bloom Herself is up swimming at her lake Maggie is happily chomping on a new bone A batch of new paintings lean in between piles of boxes and bags And the Granary Gallery Show is almost here !
It has been a wild and crazy ride since last year’s flood. As Billy Collins would say…A freaky blast…which is my new favorite way of looking at the world.
With the help of some dear friends and short controlled bursts of “freakishly” hard work we have new paintings and exciting prospects on the horizon.
Last month, in a moment of particular exhaustion after a day of navigating roadblocks and jumping through hoops that kept rolling on through I opened that dinner’s proverbial fortune cookie and read this…
Whoever put that into the tiny folded cookie could never have known how prescient the sentiment was or how much we needed to hear it at that very moment.
So I taped it up on the easel in order to keep the focus in the midst of the chaos on the CHILL.
Soon, very very soon dear patrons and followers I will be able to reveal both the new paintings and that new big project which is indeed coming our way.
We don’t need the declaration of a national holiday to remind us to say thank you.
Our gratitude runs deep, like the splash of a dandelion blooming beneath the blanket of deep November pin oak leaves.
And the harvest of sweet carrots that hung out in the back bed long enough to put the finishing touches on the chowder we got to share with all those good friends.
And the little tree that lights up this corner of our studio…now living room.
The light at the easel in the background holds the promise of the season…
That I will be able to get back to my day job very soon.
With construction progressing… that goal gets closer each day…
For now, we are thankful to be safe and snug sitting by those twinkling lights and comforted every day by all who have showed us such kindness and support over these last few weeks.
Sometimes a painting comes into creative form and much later long after the brushes have been put down and the oil painted strokes have dried after it has been layed on the kitchen table to be framed and made its way onto a gallery wall I look back at the image captured before it left the studio and its truest meaning is revealed.
So it is that this morning in the only corner of my studio that is still functioning as a working space I sit down to begin another day this one set aside to take advantage of the grey skies and foggy still air by continuing the obligatory inventory of every possession and talisman that our log cabin held for us and looked again…and anew at this shirt drifting beside the ocean.
And here’s what I know now to be true.
We have left something in our wake here on this planet.
Herself and myself have been and are loved.
To be reminded of that in our dotage has been a gift.
From all of the corners we have walked from way back in time and as recently as the wee hours of this deep morning you dear people have reached out to lift us up.
We sensed and now can see who amongst us will and have most literally handed us the shirts off of their backs.
Every single word of kindness gesture of support offer to help has made a difference to us and for us.
Over the progression of time the many paintings I’ve done of this horizon now feel like both harbingers and sign posts left along our road this one will serve to remind us of you.
With our deepest gratitude We thank you.
And I’ll leave you with the gift of this haiku from the 17th century Japanese poet Masahide that was sent to me this morning from D.
since my house burned down, I now own a better view of the rising moon
Yesterday we spent a glorious day at the lake celebrating the life of our dear pal Paul. He’s already shown us the power of his newly minted status as Angel and so so many people came together as the village HE created. There were some on the ground angels who helped to make it magical, full of fine food and safe for us all. You know who you are and have received hugs of gratitude from our hearts so hurray for the helpers.
Today Matt has dedicated to getting his hands back on his garden and was up with the dawning sun.
I woke here in the studio to that same dawn and hit the ground running.
I’ll get out there to my own garden soon.
Meanwhile Ginger is on patrol and reports severe clear skies…
And the pumpkins have lined themselves up in a nice neat, well not so neat, row.
PRINT ORDER UPDATE
For all of you who have so generously ordered prints on my website…thank you.
And here’s a quick link for those who would like to look around on the print page to place an order…
The new printer which I had finally and successfully installed ;ast week decided to give in to the bad juju floating around this corner of the world and …well… it died.
NO WORRIES though. Epson jumped right on it and I now have installed its brand spanking even newer printer.
I’m about to put it through its calibration paces and test it out with the first of those print orders.
Cross your USB cables.
I’ll be shipping them out ASAP.
I will be chronicling this next stage in my creative life here on the blog…
Tomorrow we begin Step 1 – finish the GREAT SORTING of all of our possessions that were lost in the flood. In a Pod In a truck In a garage on two porches and in two sheds
We will make two piles.
One goes to a local charity which helps distribute clothes/food/and household goods to hardworking people in need.
All the rest, which will be about 2% of the lot, will be integrated into our temporary housing.
I’ve got the perfect helper coming.
We’ll blow through that stage in no time.
Stay tuned and if this glorious weather is hovering over you too…ENJOY !!!!
Nanci Griffith is singing “Everything is coming up roses” in my ear.
Herself is singing to her own beats in the studio kitchen.
The sun outside this window is shining down from a severe clear blue sky.
And that is everything I need to know of love right now.
I’m writing to you today to leave a breadcrumb…and to ask for your help.
As so many many others, we were caught in the path of the destruction from Hurricane Ida. She blew through our corner of the planet on the 1st of September and flooded us out of house and home.
Pat and I are both safe.
On bowed knees we are humbled in gratitude for everyone of the rescuers, local fire and hazmat responders, neighbors and friends who have joined the unbelievable network of helpers who have reached out to lift us up.
The time stamp on this photo reads 5:44 on September 1st. It is taken from the creekside log cabin porch.
This was the point that Pat and I knew we were in trouble.
Three hours later that creek had surrounded the cabin and we had moved uphill to my studio next door where the water was creeping up the driveway. The view of the cabin from the studio driveway.
At 8:55 the street was full of flashing red lights.
Pat and I could only watch as an extremely hazardous river rescue was underway by 9:10 to help neighbors upstream who were stranded on their roof.
By 10:47 when this picture was taken this is where the water was beginning to crest.
The next morning, after the waters had receded enough for me to enter the cabin, the overwhelming fuel fumes turned me right back around and I dialed those dreaded numbers 911.
From that point the now fully understood word of the month, Mitigation, has been driving our bus.
The 100 year old bones of this old gal kept her upright. But the devastation within and without have left her uninhabitable.
A few days ago I posted this painting. I am very glad now that I have her depicted in some measure of the glory days.
I just went over there today to take a photo of that same spot.
Still not looking too shabby for the disaster but the DEP and my new friends the mitigators tell me that most of the wood has to go. And except for the stones in the fireplace it is all wood. These pieces of what was Pat’s piano is all that is left.
But we are lucky humans.
The studio was not affected and is out of the designated flood zone.
We have been able to carve out some living space between the easel and the brushes and have a safe and solid roof over our heads. We were able to save most of my handmade chairs from the cabin and most of the paintings from my private collection which were brightening our cabin life over the thirty two years we have called it home. Everything else is in a big red dumpster plus five save boxes in one of those pod thingys.
The mitigation crews will soon have gone as far as they can go. We are left with the balance of the cleanup, sorting and tossing, the mountains of paperwork that insurance companies require, the fascinatingly steep learning curve of figuring out how to navigate hoards of people who are asking me for numbers and figures and receipts and photographs for their reports.
The Muses have stopped their weeping and moaning. As Polly would say, I told them to shake themselves together !
They’ve begun to look at options for going forward. And we are reviewing their suggestions. A bit of building may be able to happen here on the studio property to get us some much needed extra space.
Our dearest friends have rallied and are offering daily support to …god help me… MITIGATE the urgent crisis and triage the worst of those to keep us alive and safe. From that point of security we are beginning to look toward the horizon and can see a significant financial challenge.
Our insurances will cover what they will but it will be minimal. This IS the …god help me again…RAINY DAY we have been trying to save for.
It is time for me to take stock of what I have put out into the world by way of working full time as an artist and let you dear friends and patrons know that this is a particularly pointed moment when your support can mean literally all the world to us.
All three of the galleries that have so loyally represented my work over the years are fully up to speed and are eagerly open to help. I’m going to list here all of the work that is available on their walls. There are particularly good opportunities for serious collectors, you know who you are, to make an even more profound impact on the career of an artist.
I am going to, for the first time in my career, open up some paintings from my private collection.
We have restocked the studio with ink and paper and would be thrilled to send you some prints for your collection and holiday season giving.
I would ask you to please share this as wide and far as Bob Marley’s Three little birds can fly.
So I’m going to take a deep breath and start that list. You’ll know what to do.
AVAILABLE GALLERY ORIGINAL PAINTINGS –
Gallery 1261 –
Let’s head out west and say hello to Gallery 1261.
Gallery 1261 in Denver Colorado was established in 2004 and is located in the Golden Triangle Museum District, two blocks away from the Denver Art Museum. This space is shared with Abend Gallery. The gallery is dedicated to presenting excellent work that reflects the artists’ most creative side, done without the constraints of marketability in mind.
Christine and Dave are eager to show you the 2 new paintings of mine that are currently featured in their Small Works Show. Here’s a peek…
Onion Moon 12 x 13 $3900The first snow pea never makes it out of the garden 14 x 12 $3900
They have some golden oldies out there as well which my tickle your fancy…
Camera Obscura 24 x 36 $19,500French Breakfast Radis 20 x 24 $6400
King’s Highway Deep 18 x 24 $7800
One for Solitude 30 x 23 $11,500Tied Up 32 x 48 $38,800
Sugarman Peterson Gallery –
A short drive south and Santa Fe is in your headlights.
The Sugarman Peterson Gallery is on the historic West Palace Avenue and owners Michael and Christie Sugarman are artists themselves who have created a wonderful space to exhibit their own fine jewelry and the sculpture and paintings by artists from across the planet.
Michael has shepherded me over the years by especially encouraging my figurative work. He currently has some of my most recent work in that genre as well as some hefty classics.
Arthur’s Light 22 x 34 $32,000Night Philosopher 24 x 30 $18,500There are no secrets we keep from our shoes 16 x 20 $9950Master Violet Ray #11 24 x 29 $18, 250Bucket List 42 x 48 $39,000
THE GRANARY GALLERY –
It all started for me when Chris Morse said, “I’ll take everything that is left over after your solo Vernissage”.
My dream of being a full time working artist was born.
The Granary Gallery has become the mothership for representing my artwork and the staff there my lodestars.
REGIONAL ART WITH AN ECLECTIC TWIST – this images caption only begins to reveal what their island gallery and professional art dealing staff have to show you.
You, my readers, are well versed in the yearly line ups of work that I have sent them and the most recent blog posts on this website are loaded with links and images that will point you to what works they currently have on their walls.
This year’s show has been selling well so far so I’m going to throw up some easy links and highlights for a few of the original paintings that are still available and waiting to ship out to new homes.
Fisher of Men 54 x 42 $64,500The Flock Tread 48 x 92 $185,000The Changing Room 24 x 20 $19,800Morning Menemsha 48 x 92 Price Upon RequestThe Shirt Off My Back 24 x 36 $32,000
Chris, David, Wendy, Adam and the entire staff have got our backs and are the best clearing house for valuation of paintings across my entire career. Well that does sound a bit end of the line and I am here to assure you that I will scramble and claw my way back to the easel and get those brushes flying as soon as I possibly can. Believe me the Muses have some important things to say about what we are going through, have come to know and have witnessed over the last few days. Our life has been shifted hard and to the left and then some.
The Granary also carries a selection of fine art prints of my paintings that are available through their website. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to them there at The Granary Gallery.
HN STUDIO PRINTS
Here in the studio I am able to access the office and we are up and running for print orders. Visit my website link to HN Studio Prints .
The only criteria I have is that I will not make a print of any painting until the original has sold. I am opening up the availability of most of the sold images and those can be viewed by scrolling around the portfolio section. If you see something you’re interested in owning as a print and is has been sold please send me an email inquiry at hnartisan@comcast.net .
For future reference our landline phone at the cabin has been discontinued and as soon as I have a replacement for that I’ll let you know. But email is always the best way to get a hold of us here in the studio.
And now from the
ARTIST’S PRIVATE COLLECTION
These pieces have been held back for mostly personal and professional reasons. I was counseled early on to hold back some milestone paintings. To keep ones that had resounding importance that marked passages along the way, or had singular significance.
Most artists I know have pretty healthy egos about the significance of their work. We have to put that coat on to go out and face the demons while the Muses tease. I’ve been fortunate enough to have some success along the way at keeping the brushes flying and have said goodbye to a great many pieces that I’d like to have in this collection today. Thank you to all of those who have rendered that vital support along the way by putting red dots up on those gallery tags. I am here and writing this because of you.
And I hope to keep a smaller group of new works that can replenish the Artist’s Collection going forward for our future.
Right now, if you are still reading this, it’s hopefully clear that our future depends on turning some of these canvases into wine. Well not literally of course. Although the chardonnay at the end of these brutal and long days is an extremely welcomed aide de soul.
I will be happy to answer questions about these and all of my paintings. A great starting point for those interested in original works is to search them here on my site. The new upgrades I made over the winter are proving to have been worth the time now. There are links to every image feeding you information and Painter’s Notes to add context and more layers of meaning. Please enjoy playing around there.
In chronological order, from the Artist’s Private Collection – the following original oil paintings are now available through the Studio Gallery
Sister Fisher and the Holy Ghost 19 x 24 $10,500
The Unexpected Call 28 x 19 $12000
Queen of Shovels 21 x 32 $14,500
Santa Fe Bowl 19 x 32 $14,500
Lamplighter 42 x 42 $38,000
Beecharmer 38 x 60 $57,000
Manchester Gothic 24 x 30 $14,000Morning Studio 30 x 24 $14,000
In closing I would like to take you back the end of one of the hardest days so far.
And the photo I put up earlier of that empty room with what is left of Pat’s piano.
In the heat of a sultry late summer Pennsylvania day, while Pat worked the phones, I with a mask that I ended up wringing out half a cup of my expiration moisture from, twice, along with our brilliant OCD driven friend Susan working step for every one of my steps, we had hustled to stay ahead of the hired mitigators to try and save a couple bucks by literally tossing outside what we could of dishes and contaminated but savable possessions so we didn’t have to pay them to photograph and catalogue every single surface of every single item…before they threw it in the dumpster. Yes.
Cody, who doubles as one of those intrepid volunteer firefighters who showed up for that river rescue, had been doing his hard work of mitigation for the company we hired along with Bobby, Anthony and others for three long days in the other half of the log cabin.
Susan and I heard music.
The guys were gathered in the dining room and Cody was sitting and playing the piano.
They teased him, the church organist, to give us a song.
I had asked the guys who were told to break apart the piano to get it out, to try and please try and save me at least one key.
The following video is Cody’s offering. He took us to church.
I am taking the risk of posting it here before I have a chance to ask for his approval. I’ll take it down immediately if he says so. But I want it to live on somewhere for his new baby son Everett.
This young brave strong kind compassionate young man gave a piece of his heart to help us above and beyond the job he was being paid to do. They all did. I will never forget him and the others who have walked with us on this journey.
