Tamworths

I waved goodbye to my daughter and 5 year old grandson today. They came up for a few days to ease me into my 7th decade, a very hard job, but they sweetened the ordeal. One of the things we did was visit nearby Hogwash Farm, where John and I get our meat in a kind of CSA plan. As I expected, the Tamworths are having babies, and there were at least three litters of tiny piglings to watch. They were delightful, and it bothered me not just a little to know that some of those babies may end up as bacon on my table next year. But I do know that their lives will be good, and the end humane: does that help? Just a little. In any case, they are darling, and the three of us enjoyed visiting with them, and scratching the bristly heads of the mama sows. I took photos of some of them some years back (see above) before to doing a series of paintings of them, and I need to take my camera back there soon so I can paint some more. Two of these small paintings (5" x 5") were actually given to Nancy who runs the farm, in exchange for meat. I love bartering!

Tamworth I  oil on paper on canvas

Tamworth II oil on paper on canvas

Pig in Water  oil on paper on canvas

When I get back from Arizona (we are going for a week, also to help ease me into my 7th decade!) I will get busy in the studio with more forsythia and more pigs. Plus I am sure I shall bring back with me much inspiration from Sedona, and many sketches and photos to take to the studio. In the meantime, here's to the next decade. (Photo is me at my birthday dinner at Simon Pearce with a lovely Kir Royale.)

Unwrapping Bright Spring

Because it is so emblematic of early spring, and because it is joyfully everywhere this time of year, it is hard for me to believe that Forsythia is such a relatively recent arrival to the United States, coming only about 100 years ago. A native of eastern Asia, forsythia is part of the Oleaceae (olive) family. The genus in English is named after William Forsyth who oversaw the Kensington Palace gardens in the late 18^th C. In Korea, where the shrub is known as goldenbells, there is a legend about the forsythia which has made it a symbol not only of the first sign of the return of spring but also of returning love. Legend has it that a married man went on a long journey and after being away for many years, he had begun to take his wife for granted. When he returned home, he found his wife waiting patiently for him in the garden, and he was struck by how beautiful she was. He wrote a poem which he sang to her that said while forsythias and apricot blossoms may bloom and fade, “in the bamboo shade of my mountain home forever abides my Love, my All.” 

With no forsythia in my landscape yet, I spent the week imagining, and painting them. This one, taken from a photo in my daughter's yard, is about finished. I tried to keep it loose and open, layering colors and texture. Hopefully the forsythia is singing out from the painting, with everything else fading into the background, as that was my intent. I have also included a few details of the painting which show the brushwork better.

"Unwrapping Bright Spring "  18"x18"    oil on canvas

Detail # 1

Detail # 2

I wish you all a very happy spring.

 

April

I wish winter and snow would just take a final bow and get off the stage. After the April Fool snowstorm, we had yet another day of the white wet stuff on April 5th. Fortunately, it was mixed off and on with rain, so the end result was probably less snow on the ground than when it started. This will make Amy Huyffer happy, who with her husband runs the organic creamery up here in Strafford. She says her cows (with the new calves coming in one by one) are longing to get out and eat some grass. I think there is more snow in our little village than anywhere else in the Upper Valley.


Across the street, which is south facing, I begin to see patches of bare ground dotting the hills, bigger every day. Not so for us, but the snow is starting to shrink away from the tree trunks and the pond egress, and the driveway is bare for the first time since before Christmas. The pile by the front door is down to about 6 feet high. Soon I will hear the waterfall which runs with runoff until mid summer. Being born and bred in New Jersey, traditionally April is when I expect to see crocus and daffodils, when lawns and gardens get raked out and fertilized, and color graces the yards with forsythia and other early blooming shrubs. Not so here. I wrote a poem for this time of year back in 2003 when we invaded Iraq, which is appropriate for this spring as well.

  March 20, 2003

The earth turns under winter-weary snow,

thrusts off its white, wind-carved quilts

and stretches

to the warmth of lengthened days.

Welcomed home

by still sleepy voices of brooks and ponds,

winter’s watery leftovers serpentine down

through snow on softened hills.

The season shifts,

as the world trembles,

and I stand in wonder

that at such a time

Spring can come again.

At least the discouraging weather (and my delightful lack of commitments this week) gives me lots of time to paint. I have three pieces going -- one is probably the last winter piece I will do this year, a  winter farm scene of hay bales in a barn, which I think is working out well. I am laying on layer after layer of color, and concentrating on composition and lights and darks. I wish it would dry faster--- if it did this is one I think I could have done alla prima, because I painted over an old painting, so there was a good base already there. This is an argument for switching to water-based oils, but the financial outlay in paints would be enormous. I cannot seem to get good photos of the work I am doing (for instance the snow is not flat white, but variated), but here it is, best as I can do.

Still Smelling of Dusty Summer   30 x 24  oil on canvas with tissue underlay 

I was also reworking a seascape, but it is still not working and may go to the paint over pile. And I started my first spring piece of the year-- forsythias!  If I can't see them here in April, I can at least paint them. I did a whole series of forsythia paintings some years back, such as this one which was framed later as a triptych. They have all sold except for one tiny one of which I have no photo.

"Forsythia x Three"  18 1/2 x 6  framed, oil on canvas with tissue underlay 

Now that I am painting regularly again, I decided I better get working on having a show or two. I just contracted to have another show at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center Rubin Glass Hallway, my most favorite alternative place to show up here. The woman in charge dispensed with the application since I was already vetted when I had a show there back in 2006, right after my mother died. I do not know when it will be, probably not until 2013. I would like to get something else lined up for early next year if possible, but not sure where yet.  

Strafford ARTWORKS Show

I have been busy organizing the Strafford ARTWORKS show at the Ledyard Gallery at Howe Library in Hanover, NH. We have 14 of our members in the group show, "Recent Work in Mixed Media." My job was and always is, publicity, and this is the release I sent out, which explains what Strafford ARTWORKS is, for those of you who do not know.

Strafford, VT---  The Howe Library Ledyard Gallery is celebrating the artistic diversity of visual artists from Strafford Vermont with a group exhibit featuring over 35 works.  The 12 eclectic artists from Strafford ARTWORKS have mounted a large show, “Recent Works in Mixed Media,” at the gallery on the mezzanine floor at 135 Main Street in Hanover, Hew Hampshire. The show runs from April 1 through the 27th., with the library gallery open Mondays through Thursday from 10-8, Friday from 10-6, and Saturday from 10-5..The artists will welcome visitors to the Opening Reception on Saturday April 2 from 2 PM to 4PM.  Artist members with work in this exhibition are Jennifer Brown, Marcia Bushnell, Micki Colbeck, Andrea Doughtie, Nancy Gerlach, Tracy Gillespie, Nat Hemenway, Janet Farley, Cecily Herzig, Kate More, Jason Okai,  Mary Louise Pierson, Anni Praetorius and Deborah Frankel Reese. The current show has been curated by Dick Ridgeway and member artists Micki Colbeck, Nancy Gerlach and Anni Praetorious.

Strafford ARTWORKS is an eclectic group of professional artists working in varied mediums including pastel, watercolor, ink, acrylic and oil paints, block prints, monoprints and photography. The broad mix of artists and disciplines has attracted an equally broad demographic of audience members. Individuals from the group are represented by galleries in the Upper Valley, in New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts, as well as in Canada, England, France, Spain and Macau. 

According to Deborah Frankel Reese, one of the founding members of Strafford ARTWORKS, "When we first decided to exhibit as a group about eight years ago, we wondered how our collective work would look together: would our varied artistic visions form a cohesive whole? We were surprised at how well the different media and styles worked together, and it has only improved over the years. When walking around the current show at the Howe, each piece will lead you to the next, as in conversation: Traditional oils -- including exacting still lifes and landscapes by Andrea Doughtie, the colorful Tuscan landscapes of Kate More, the plein air Vermont vistas of Nancy Gerlach, and Jennifer Brown's bright watercolors blend well with the flinty, more contemporary work from the creative inner visions of Janet Farley, Cecily Herzig, Jason Okai, Mary Louise Pierson and Anni Praetorious. Large paintings by Marcia Bushnell and Deborah Frankel Reese containing strong colors and powerful compositions transition seamlessly to the smaller, purposefully-limited palette pieces of Micki Cobeck’s stunning Delft series. Block prints by Tracey Gillespie provide graphic counterpoints, as do the strong photographs of  Nat Hemenway.

"Baby Spiders Are sleeping Under Your Bed"  Cecily Herzig

"Col di Val d"esta" (Tuscany) oil by Kate More

"Delft in Blue" oil, Micki Colbeck

 StraffordARTWORKS was formed nine years ago
by a group of Strafford artists with a shared commitment to studio practice and exhibitions of their work. Representing a mix of mediums, backgroundss, experience, and ages, the diverse and vibrant community of artists meet on an informal basis to critique current work, discuss contemporary art, plan shows, hold workshops and provide a supportive artistic community, especially for those artists who produce their art in isolation. As well as in ARTWORKS group exhibits, such as this one, held at least once a year, in shows held by individual members and in the galleries which represent them, examples of the work by Strafford ARTWORK members can be seen on Open Museum at http://www.openmuseum.org/museum/show/29, a virtual on-line museum spotlighting the work of artists.  If you join the site, you can go to the Strafford ARTWORKS "Museum" and vote for the work that you like, a helpful tool for artists who too often work in a vacuum. Information about the organization can be found on Open Museum’s website. For more information, please contact Deborah Frankel Reese at BYBYNJ@gmail.com

The show was expertly hung by a pro Dick Ridgeway and two of our artists Friday --  somehow we managed to get the 35 pieces there in spite of the snowstorm. The Opening Reception on Saturday went well: we had a good turnout, good reactions, and so far three pieces have been sold. Some of the work in the show is shown above. Below are a few shots of the reception, the only ones that I can get off of my iphone so far.

My work in the show

Work by Janet Farley

Work by Micki Colbeck, left, and Marcia Bushnell, right.

Person viewing work by Nancy Gerlach and Jennifer Brown.

Person viewing work by Anni Praetorius.    

Like Grass Under the Wind

I received a Facebook friend request this week from a retired teacher in York, ME where the writer May Sarton spent her last 20 years, thanking me for starting the May Sarton page on FB. There is going to be a big celebration for what would have been her 100th birthday up there in 2012, and I intend to go. As well as working in the studio, I have been dipping into her poetry recently. Her journals, for which she is arguably best known, have nourished and sustained me over the years, but her poetry, for which she most wanted to be remembered, can also at times be well worth a read. Her poetry is uneven -- she is no Mary Oliver: I think one of the problems I have is that I do not really like contemporary poetry that rhymes. But she weaves nature, art and love into her work, and this one spoke to me today. I am sure she was thinking in terms of writing, but to me, it applies to painting as well:


Composition
by May Sarton 


Here is the pond, here sky, and the long grasses
That lean over the water, a slow ripple
Under the slightest wandering air that passes
To shift the scene, translating flat to stipple
On still blue water and troubling green masses.


Three elements are spaced and subtly joined
To rest the restless mind and lift us where
Nothing in us is baffled or constrained,
Who wake and sleep as casual as they are,
And contain earth, and water, and the wind.


Take blue; take green; take pale gold sand;
Take the slow changing shimmer of the air;
Take a huge sky above a steadfast land;
Take love, the tiger ocean in its lair,
and gentle it like grass under the wind. 

It reminded me of a number of paintings I have done of grasses over water, with a blue and ochre palette, such as this one, sold a few years back. 

"Salt Marsh"  12" x  12" oil on canvas

 And this one is  is just as it is here now. She lived in Maine, and thus had the same lack of traditional spring as do we here in Vermont. But we treasure the changes that do appear about this time of year, tantalizing little promises . . .  the returning songbirds, the activity in the hives, the whisper of spring on the forsythia and willow bushes, the seasonal shift in light and the longer days ... 

March Mad
by May Sarton 


The strangely radiant skies have come
to lift us out of our winter's gloom,
A paler, more transparent blue,
A softer gold light on fresh snow.
It is a naked time that bares
Our slightly worn-down hopes and cares,
And sets us listening for frogs,
And sends us to seed catalogues
To bury our starved eyes and noses
In an extravagance of roses.
And order madly at this season 
When we have had enough of reason. 

Houses from the Past

37 South Maple Avenue

"Clover Hill" 

As a child, I grew up in houses rich with history. My first five years were spent living with my grandparents in a beautiful, large, pre Civil War home in NJ (left), torn down when a highway came through the town. It had a wonderful barn behind, where my grandfather kept his automobile, treating it as well as a person who grew up on a farm would treat his horse. Much to his elegant wife's horror, he manured the grass every year. During this time, after the war, my parents' also bought a very old farmhouse in Goshen, NY (left) and used it as a weekend/vacation place. The neighboring farmer plowed a huge vegetable garden for my parents; we picked up milk, butter and shortbbread from the farmer's wife down the road; and I could watch cows outside my upstairs bedroom.  Wondrously, because in this country we tend to tear down so many of our fine old houses, it is still there, although the surrounding farmland is not.

Me on our porch, and my woods behind.

When I was six, we moved  to a building that had been the original schoolhouse in Essex Fells, NJ  (left and below) where I spent my childhood. It too still stands, but no longer surrounded by woods that were my playground, and so exciting to a little girl. 

We raised our own kids in a 1911 Queen Anne house in Montclair, where I once "saw" an Irish woman dressed in turn of the century clothes, in one the third floor bedrooms -- the old servants' quarters.
                                                           

The house where I grew up

Probably as a result of these particular old houses, I have always loved them and the thought of the lives once lived within their walls. When they are abandoned, I find it hearbreaking, but fodder for wonderfully evocative paintings.

 One of my very favorite books was The Little House, written by Virginia Lee Burton. (Sorry the clicking option from this Amazon image will not work here!) This classic childrens' book which won the Caldecott Prize in 1943, is still selling strongly. It begins "Once upon a time there was a Little House way out in the country. She was a pretty Little House and she was strong and well built."  Amazon describes the book:  

"The rosy-pink Little House, on a hill surrounded by apple trees, watches the days go, by from the first apple blossoms in the spring through the winter snows. Always faintly aware of the city's distant lights, she starts to notice the city encroaching on her bucolic existence. First a road appears, which brings horseless carriages and then trucks and steamrollers. Before long, more roads, bigger homes, apartment buildings, stores, and garages surround the Little House. Her family moves out and she finds herself alone in the middle of the city, where the artificial lights are so bright that the Little House can no longer see the sun or the moon. She often dreams of 'the field of daisies and the apple trees dancing in the moonlight.' Children will be saddened to see the lonely, claustrophobic, dilapidated house, but when a young woman recognizes her as an old family home and whisks her back to the country where she belongs, they will rejoice. Young readers are more likely to be drawn in by the whimsical, detailed drawings and the happy ending than by anything Burton might have been implying about the troubling effects of urbanization."   

But this book stuck with me, and also with my daughter who says it influences her still today. It is probably one reason that I began a series of paintings of the disappearing barns and farmhouses in Vermont a few years ago, and why,from time to time, such as now, that I am still compelled to add to this series. As I watch this farming heritage disappear from the New England landscape through neglect, the elements, vandalism, fire etc., I feel a great sadness, and in my own way try to preserve a little of it at least on canvas. Because even the memories of lives lived in them are fast disappearing, and the only way these buildings will survive is through photographers and artists. 
 Here is one which I may have posted earlier.

Windows Filled With Vanished Days  20" x 20"         oil on canvas

My children, when small, used to call them "sad houses." Often known simply as "the old so-and-so place," these remnants of the once-thriving farmsteads -- houses, barns, corn cribs, ice houses, root cellars --  have slowly gone fallow, like the land. Often all that remains is a stone cellar, some lilac bushes, old apple trees, tumbled down rock walls, rusted old plows, all speaking of lives once lived there. But many of the old wooden buildings themselves also still cling precariously to the land. 
 

As well as a loss of historical and architectural legacy, these old houses and barns also speak to me of the loss of personal history. As I work on these pieces, I imagine the rich life that once inhabited the buildings --- the sturdy work horses and cows in their stalls, the sweet smell of the hay, the sounds of milk pails clanking, cattle lowing --- and in the houses, open windows with curtains blowing in the breeze, the smell of dinner cooking, kids in tire swings hung from trees, the lives lived there, all gone, all gone.


This is the painting I have been working on this week -- of a fragile, old house  with nothing left of its past except a tattered lace curtain in one window. Soon I imagine only the brick of the foundation and chimney will be left.

All Gone, All Gone  20" x 20"  oil and graphite on canvas

Detail, All Gone All Gone

Historical note: Defection from the hills attest to the exodus after the Civil War in New England: large numbers of men hearing from army mates about the fertility of the readily available Midwest land, with no rocks to clear, never came home. And people who did not go west moved down into the mushrooming factory towns where livings might more easily be made. With the farmers' daughters going to work in the mills, and their sons off to fight in the war and then to other parts of the country where farming was so much easier, by the 1870's, farmers all around Vermont were abandoning their farms wholesale. Deserted farmhouses and barns became increasingly conspicuous in the cleared farmlands (now often given over to reforestation.) When a family decided to leave, there were few takers for the farm. Many simply moved out and, one imagines, after a some difficult and sad farewells to their home itself as well as to family and friends, they shut the doors and left their places to the forces of nature. And then came the Depression leaving more farms in its wake. The increasing presence of these buildings today bears silent, and sad, witness to more recent problems-- farm consolidation, rural depopulation and the present travails of trying to keep alive the family farm in New England.   

"Wauwinet" in the Works

I have been working on the painting  "Wauwinet Road", which is a painting right where we go every summer for a brief respite these days with our son and family. I have fallen in love with this windswept, fairly unpopulated part of Nantucket at the Head of the Harbor, and it has been a real muse for me these last few years. The view from the front of the shingled old summer beach cottage is of this bay, and from the back deck, of the ocean. Pure paradise.

 But I really I keep fighting with myself to keep to my current vision and keep the work, this painting for example, simple. A comparison of the first image of the painting  from a previous posting is atop of one as it stands now, a few days later..

It probably does not look much different to you, and of course the camera lighting is different each time I snap a photo, more accurate in the first image I would say, brighter,as it really is. But there are differences --  I have made an effort to use values to create more of a focus, especially brightening up some of the color blocks; I have softened the greenery, often by graffitti, the knife, to make it simpler and less fussy; and added the hint of houses upper right about where "Squantum House," OUR house (!! we wish!!) is. I also added some slashes of glimmering light in the spit of land in distance, on the bay beach sand, and the road (which is just dirt and sand),and  some of the geenery.  I think will call it finished or else I may fuss it up, and move on to the next piece.


Here is my family plus daughter-in-law's brother, wife and baby, three summers ago from the front deck overlooking the bay in the painting.

Back: Son-in-law Bob and MRT's daughter Francesca, Jen's brother MRT and wife Robin and baby Nicky, daughter-in-law Jen with our granddaughter Lily, daughter Rebecca with our grandson Nate, son Mike; front row, grandson Aidan and granddaughter Eloise. Head of the Harbor in the background!

Your Voice Might Change

As I find myself finally evolving into another painting style, I have been thinking a lot about consistency. There is this notion of the “consistent body of work” that artists are supposed to produce – gallery owners and critics pigeon-hole artists and sing the praises of  great consistency in the work of one artist, and dismiss another artist for being “all over the place.” They want you to establish a voice that embodies your unique artistic vision, and then  build a body of recognizable work. I have worried about this in the past when I was one of those all over the place artists, and have been talking to some friends about this. Some of them ask  “Why do we have to be consistent as an artist? Why do we have to present a unified body of work, each piece easily identifiable as one’s own? “ And after thinking it over, I feel that there are some ready answers. 

For artists struggling for recognition: You will definitely find that if you are interested in getting into commercial galleries, you will probably need to create a body of work at least to present to the galleries that shows a consistent, identifiable style that the gallery (and thus collectors) can recognize as your work. They would like to see that all of your work appears to be done by the same person, utilizing the same technique or combination of techniques and color palette that makes your “body” of work cohesive. Think of Rothko’s instantly recognizable color field paintings!! Think Renoir, Modigliani, Turner, Constable, Van Gogh, de Hooch! Think of Jim Dine’s bathrobes! Look at any one of these artist’s works, and you know immediately who painted it, at least in a certain time of their lives. And I think of my artist friends Henry Isaacs, Ashley Bryan, Michael Moore, Micki Colbeck, and Catherine Kinkade who have done this so successfully: (You can find examples for most of them of their work in the blog listings to the right on my blog.) So yes, you will need to present a portfolio of your work to a gallery, probably about 20 pieces, with a consistency. If you work in several media and a variety of styles, then make several different portfolios for different galleries/ purposes. And if you frame your work ( a lot of the edgier galleries today do not require frames) by all means use similar frames for paintings to keep the work from looking disjointed.

For established and successful artists: It is often just easier just to keep turning out your work in a certain way, knowing that it will continue to be praised and bought. A lot of artists do this. But I think of Eric Aho who developed a very distinctive style painting plein air landscape as well as larger studio works that drew inspiration, mostly from direct observation. His spectacularly sky-heavy, windblown landscapes done in bold, minimal strokes full of mood and heightened detail are expressed so simply, a glint of light here, a slash of color , a perfect little detail there. They captivated me. I become breathless when I stand in front of his work. This work catapulted him to the being one of the top landscape artists in the country. He could have continued to turn out that wonderful work forever, and amass a fortune, with galleries selling his work for many thousands of dollars.

Earlier style: "Late Squall"  by Eric Aho 

Current work :"Occurrence" by Eric Aho

But then he GREW and changed his focus, turning away from his expressive narrative works!  He said in an interview “I’m not looking at grand vistas, anymore, and more pastoral landscapes, like I had done in these views over the river. I’m actually looking down, more at my feet, into the river – The Saxton’s River, which I’ve been watching freeze and thaw in successive winters now for the past few years.” As well as his expressive oils, he does prints (his original medium actually) these days, and has become more and more abstract, irritating some of his past collectors. His new works are often wild and chaotic but they beautifully capture light, air, fire, ice  and land. A critic of one of his recent shows said  “Aho’s abstract paintings are evolving right in front of us.”I remember the shock of seeing this new body of work, and how long it took for me and other viewers to accept it. I can imagine him just being tired of making those beautiful paintings, and wanting to shake things up a bit-- a lot! But most likely, his VISION --  HIS VOICE -- JUST CHANGED!
 The same with my old college friend Lucretia Robbins who has through her career moved from one stage to another with ease--- most recently from exquisite jewel like abstracts with luscious brushwork (see below) 

to a recent large series of painstaking, elegant drawings of birds’ nests! 

Artists such as these have had the courage to persevere, and hope that the their “new” work will gain its own followers.  And I believe that even when you do grow, or change your focus, you can continue to present a unified look to your work, even if it is a NEW look, even if temporary. Creating a consistent body of work does not mean that you have to always paint the same things in the same ways in the same palette, forever! For most artists, that would simply be impossible anyway, and would make the creation of art a burden and a bore. If you do not grow, you become a hack. Exploring new and differing ways of expression is a constant and a necessity for the artist. Or so I believe.


Sadly, the need for consistency rules the all too commerce-centered art world. There is this perhaps erroneous feeling that gallery owners, and often art school admissions folks, have that if you present a “wide range of styles”, you are showing them that you have not yet settled on a style you can call your own. This does probably mean that when I present twenty pieces to a gallery for consideration, I must make sure that those twenty pieces are consistent, make the same statement, and set the same mood. (For example, if you work mainly in gentle earth toned colors on small canvasses but include one or two huge pieces in bright primary colors in the portfolio, this will not look cohesive. But if you want to do a series in the primary colors for another place to consider, by all means go ahead.)  And I should probably edit my website to convey this consistency, somehow.  

But a forever consistency can kill creativity. Consistency can cripple. What’s wrong with experimentation? With GROWTH? Rothko, recognizable as his work is, went through a long process to get to his final step, which involved only his shimmering, emotion-laden large colored shapes. Would you ever recognize these as Rothko's work?? 

  
  The older he got, the more simplicity he sought. Since he is one of my favorite artists, I am VERY glad that he evolved, VERY glad that his vision and painting style changed to this--- (but you really need to see his work in person, it CANNOT be well produced.)

Picasso did not stay in his Blue Period forever  -- he marched right into Cubism, and beyond. And what about Phillip Guston's abstractions? His career was filled with evolution! Starting out in the 1930s as a social realist painter of murals, he ducked into a sort of cartoon realism, and finally rose to the top as one of the key Abstract Expressionists. Ya' gotta  follow your muse, and paint what you want to paint, and not worry too much about where you end up. Finding your voice only happens after MUCH experimentation: it is not a quick and easy activity, it can take a long time, even many years and involves much thrown away or painted over work. And anyway, like an adolescent boy about to have a huge growth spurt, your voice might change! Twice maybe, three times, or more! And each time, with a struggle, but a GOOD one.

I am in the process of doing just that right now. I cannot paint as I did three, four let alone 30 years ago. Jackson Pollack once said “My opinion is that new needs need new techniques." I continue to evolve, to change as a person and as an artist, and I know that this makes me a happier artist. Hopefully it also makes me a better artist as well.

Here is another example of the new technique I have been using over the past year or so. I still find myself wanting to slip back into my old dripping and glazing style, but I am resisting. I am looking for simplicity. It is definitely still in progress, and not going quite as well as the last one. In real life, the sky in the painting is not turquoise as it shows here, and the other colors are brighter, especially some of the greens which look so dull here. I will get a better shot of it when I finished with it. It needs focus, and some value work, as well as the suggestion of a few houses upper right.

Wauwinet Road 

New Work and Strafford ARTWORKS

I have been in the studio most days this week, happy that the warm days have caused the snow over my two skylighted windows on the slant of a peaked wall to slide down, giving me more wonderful natural light. Just another sign of spring-- a better lit studio! (We actually had another five inches of snow on Monday -- welcome to spring in Vermont.)  I have begun three new pieces --- a seascape being executed in the very loose, painterly style I am exploring with which I am very happy--- it was almost done alla prima in one session, but I had to have  a second day's work on it. 

The Blue Shore of Silence  oil on canvas  20 x 20

 A second piece done in the same way that is underway is of the sandy roadway and land around the house that we go to every summer in Nantucket. Painting this way is becoming easier for me, and is making me very happy, because it is the way my eyes and heart have wanted to paint for over a year, but my hands would not obey. I have also started a zoomed-in section of yet another very old, tumbling down Vermont building in a style more controlled, like my other buildingscapes. This one requires more exacting work, and I do not have it to a place I like yet at all. My in-house critic agrees. It may not work, and may be painted over.


I hope to have one of them ready for a group show I am in in April with Strafford ARTWORKS, to be held at the Ledyard Gallery at the Howe Library in Hanover, NH. I need two or three paintings, and I have two set aside, but would like a third. This is the 11th year I have been involved with this group, 

formed in 2002 by Nancy Gerlach and me to provide a way for Strafford artists to network, share ideas and skills, hold critiquing sessions of works-in-progress (both in person and recently on line with one another,) hold workshops, and plan and implement shows. Initially, we also hoped to find a space to use a gallery and run it like a co-op, but the logistics of this has proved too costly in terms of both time and money. 

We felt (and still feel) fortunate to be living in such a beautiful and inspirational place, but also were very aware that the Upper Valley was not New York, and not a visual arts epicenter.  It was clear that there were plenty of talented and productive artists here, all with similar struggles, caught in the same traps. We all had something in common: a determination to create our art where we live and to build an art scene out of nothing except sheer desire, determination, and sometimes desperation. In 2002, it just seemed to be the right time for a group of us to band together and create our own community of artists here in our small, rural Vermont village.Good art is produced all over the world, not just in Manhattan or London, and we felt that if we worked hard enough, and continued to connect with ambitious artists who shared the same ideas, we could make life as artists work here.

 Through ARTWORKS, artists from Strafford got to know each other, and allowed many in town who had previously been solitary in their creative pursuits to connect with like-minded people. We were inspired, and began taking this new energy and throwing it back into our work, producing more (and maybe better) work than we had done before. 

While each artist in the group brings a unique vision to his or her body of work, the group shares an approach that includes both the traditional and the edgy and experimental. The only criteria for acceptance in the group (we do a slide or digital image review and resume review) are 1) is strong work that shows professional potential and 2) the dedication of the artist to pursue his or her own voice. Artists who have exhibited with ARTWORKS range from their 30’s to their 80’s! Some, but not all, are or were art school students and graduates, but almost all have studied art in one way or another. Very few of them are primary bread-winning artists, and hold other jobs such as college professors, teachers, a lawyer, designers, illustrators, a writer and a published photographer, lecturers, as well as a roller derby skater, a landscape designer with a lily farm, a peace activist, a dollhouse miniatures enthusiast (that would be MOI!), a musician, a carpenter. Plus we have retirees from the worlds of psychoanalysis, law, public relations, architecture, and plenty of other things.  We are all artists working hard, sacrificing sleep and juggling time to create and exhibit work in lives rich with family, jobs, gardens, and other responsibilities -- and this is a unifying bond. 

In an area not exactly overflowing with galleries, a primary goal of the group was and is to find new, interesting and often alternative public spaces to exhibit our work and help bridge the gap between artists and collectors in the Upper Valley. For the first four years or so, we only showed our work in town; after the initial few shows, we were pleased that the shows were attracting townspeople from all walks of life; people seemed excited and interested in what was going on right in their own backyard. However, in a town as small as Strafford, there is a limited audience and thus limited opportunities to sell our work. We began seeking out-of-town venues in alternative locations in the Upper valley such as hotels and libraries, and this year, in April, at the Ledyard Gallery at the Howe Library in Hanover. 

Today artists have tools and opportunities that would have seemed unbelievable just fifty years ago; we have the ability to connect and communicate with people instantly from anywhere in the world! One of our youngest members ushered us into the digital age by maintaining our first web site, and now curates, along with two others, our presence on an on-line museum gallery on Open Museum which can be seen at  http://www.openmuseum.org/museum/show/29. Here in the Strafford ARTWORK "Museum" our artists each have their own gallery, and as an art collective, we are able to present the work of what we believe is a most talented and eclectic group of artists. In addition, as artists in the 21st century, many of us are also trying our best to jump on the social networking wagon: some of us maintain Facebook pages; maintain personal art websites; and art blogs such as this one in efforts to enlarge our electronic footprint. We post our paintings and art news anywhere we can! 

Fellow artist Andrea Doughtie and me hanging an ARTWORKS show a few years ago 

.