Wednesday, November 21, 2018

If there's a problem, fix it

Art is the opposite of math and other studies. There is no one answer and yet there are
many problems. Once you solve one  you often create another. Abstract art is challenging in 
that it is so personal and primal.The rules are the same. You have to pull all the elements of art
together in one piece; composition, color, value, line, pattern, balance, rhythm....... easy, right?

My experience has been that abstract art is not easier, it is actually harder. You are not trying to render a scene, still life, or model as they appear in front of you. You are trying to reinterpret them
in another language entirely, your language. Another way many abstract artists work is entirely from their imagination and intuition.

If you don't have a knowledge of abstract art it is easy to dismiss it. Despite my art education
and exposure to the arts I did not understand it until I took an abstract painting class with
Norma Mutch.  Art feels so much more expansive. My painting alternates between the two worlds of abstraction and realism. When I go to museums and galleries the experience
doubles in richness. Photography still feels like an integral part of my process but even that is 

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Charlie's Tree


I woke up at 5:45, brewed my french press and brought my a asian mug
out to my favorite chaise. The morning was cloudy yet as I sat looking over
at my neighbors yard I noticed the trunk of her tree was glowing an orangey
red. It was so incredible I felt like I was seeing things. I grabbed my camera
to see if I could capture it . Moments later it was gone. It felt so powerfully
like Charlie was in that tree; glowing and shining his light on me and telling
me he was happy.

The morning after he died I was sitting on the same chaise weeping and the
tiniest dragon fly landed on my knee and stayed there for a long, long time.
I wasn't totally sure about that but I am totally sure about this. On a cloudy
day with no sun this tree was GLOWING ! My Charlie bear, my love, shining
his light

on me. Nature is my greatest healer. That tree will always be
my " Charlie Tree "

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Why do artists charge so much for their work?

Twenty five years ago I walked into the Lange Miller Gallery with my mother.
The building was old with tall ceilings, wide pine floors and the space was
flooded with light. The first thing I saw was a 5 by 5 ft oil painting
of peonies, tulips, a chair, pears and an empty white plate. The painting was a
riot of color and it literally stopped me in my tracks. I stood there completely
transfixed for 5 minutes, saying over and over, "Mum, look at this, can you believe it?'
I could barely breathe and I knew I was experiencing something profound.

My mother quietly went into the back of the gallery and told the artist, Janvier Miller,
she was buying the painting for me. It was $5000- and it was "my birthday present for
the rest of my life" It was the first real painting I ever owned.

Most mornings I have my coffee with this painting. It is like a muse of sorts. I never
love it less. At the time, $ 5000- seemed like a lot of money but now I truly understand
"why artists charge so much for their art " The response to that question, which was
asked of me a few days ago, will be my next blog.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

My Shore Road

Everything was different then; my grandparents house was grand.
Even before George Colt wrote " The Big House " we all referred to
it as such. The Briggs/ Birch house was was pretty grand as well with
it's fabulous windmill standing high on the bluff, greeting fisherman and women
as they came in with their catch.

We knew everyone from the Townsend/Weller house next door all the way to the
Burroughs house on "the point". There was a wooden turnstile between our house and the 
Townsend's, symbolic of friendship and welcome. There were no fences or privet hedges
between the other houses so we all ran freely back and forth across the properties.
That's how it was. 

Three generations; our grandparents, our parents and us. The Townsends, the Lincolns,
the Tyners, the Briggs, the Russells, the Garres, and the Burroughs. Of the seven houses
five have been torn down and the big house and it's two side cottages are unrecognizable.
When I drove by the big house on Sunday I thought it had been gutted by a fire. This feels
more tragic. My friend called it "wanton disregard" for the history of a place, it's charm 
and how it fits into the landscape. I could weep.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Proud to be an American?

Last night I went to a concert and the performer kept saying she was
" Proud to be an American " I beg to differ. I can only speak for myself.
I feel like I am living in a chilling time with a president who got elected on
 a platform of change and is staying elected on a platform of silence.

In my opinion he is a man with no moral compass, no understanding of history
and no political experience. He is a dangerous man, revealing and exploiting the
darkest side of humanity. There is no greater perpetrator of " fake news. " I can only pray
that this too shall pass but I fear it will not be soon.

Monday, July 17, 2017

Wren's buoy nest

It was rainy, foggy and windy until the last week of June
and then the magic began.

Every morning I wake to the birds outside my window.
I get up and have my coffee on the terrace around 6am.

Yesterday I noticed the tiniest wren flying around the buoys
hanging from the outside shower. In and out, in and out with
twigs in her tiny beak. She would perch on the fence chirping away
and then take take her treasure into the perfect hole inside the buoy.
It was like watching an incredible movie or reading a book you can't put
down. Nature is my church!

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Values Matter

I am sitting at the kitchen table feeling humbled and small after my painting class.
I struggled all morning to get a decent drawing/ underpainting of two pears in a bowl;
yes, two frigging pears in a bowl. I came home with nothing but a piece of 12 by 18
canvas paper toned with burnt umber and the realization that I didn't know squat about
drawing, painting, color and especially value.

After class I decided to go to Whole Foods; when in doubt, food shop. I needed two things and yet I managed to spend $100 which fit in two brown paper bags. At least dinner was covered and I found
the two items.

 I got home ,left the brown grocery bags on the kitchen table and unloaded the painting supplies. As I hauled in the last of the supplies my bin of oil paints slipped out of my hands
leaving a nice stain of cadmium red on the carpet. Was this a sign?

Later, as I sat down to eat lunch I looked at the still unpacked  grocery bags on the table.
Nestled between the the various writing on the bag, "watermelon, green juice, organic eggs, sushi"
was "Values Matter" I looked at it in disbelief. Though I am discouraged, part of me feels this could be a really important day for me. "Values Matter "