Out in the Open

Sophie and Julie, Newburyport High School art students, painting at Maudsley State Park

 "Out in the Open", held on Thursday, May 29, 2014, was a wonderful opportunity for the Newburyport Ten (N-10) plein air painters to share their painters' skills and love of painting outdoors with the art students of Newburyport High School.

The program began with a 40 minute power point presentation at the Newburyport Art Association. I gave the historical overview of the art of plein painting and Susan Spellman explained the steps to painting a landscape out of doors. Then everyone hopped on a school bus to Maudsley State Park and were teamed up with members of the N-10 for a day of painting.  Participating N-10 members were: Cynthia Cooper, Dan Shaw, Margery Jennings, Janet Macleod, Joan Rademacher, Marjet Lesk, Susan Luca, Susan Spellman and myself. A beautiful day of painting Nature surrounded by Nature was enjoyed by all in attendance.

Print Club of New York

I was invited to give a talk at the 20th Annual Artists Showcase of the Print Club of New York held at the Society of Illustrators in Manhattan. My reduction linoleum was seen by the selection committee at the Center for Contemporary Printmaking's Annual CCP Members' Exhibition: 'Branching Out' exhibition in Norwalk, CT.

A Passage through the Fluttering Fires of Autumn

I was contacted to submit a power point presentation. Five printmakers, MICHAEL EADE,
KIRSTEN FLAHERTY, CARY HULBERT. SUSAN JAWORSKI-STRANC, BRUCE WALDMAN were selected and invited to talk and show their portfolios to the members.

This event was heaven sent... I was surrounded by people who were knowledgeable and loved prints... they were print collectors! Now my linoleum prints are in a select number of members' collections. Thank you!

http://printclubofnewyork.org/

Painting on the North Shore with N10 friends

So starts another painting season with my long time painting friends of Newburyport Ten.  We are off to a warm April day start at Milestone Farm in Newbury.  Acres of hay fields are beginning to green along the edges of water-logged swathes. I particularly liked the zig-zag pattern cutting through this scene as well as the reflective patterns of distant trees.





Another day we painted at the end of Plum Island. There are hills of grassy sand dunes, an old coast guard station and lighthouse, and the Merrimack River emptying into the Atlantic Ocean.  There are plenty of goofy, friendly dogs running about kicking up sand for everyone's enjoyment too. Their care free romps will end soon due to summer beach regulations.


And then the following week, three of us painted Rowley's Jewel Mill complete with a dammed spillway and pond, rushing streams and the antique mill.

Dan Shaw under wraps, paints along side the rushing stream

Margery Jennings finds a warm sunny spot to set up her easel.

Nothing's better than spring painting in New England

...so says my friend of 35 years, Terry. 
After a few days of painting in 40 degree weather which included an uncomfortable day of gusty, cold winds, and a few sprinkles, my friend flew back to Maryland with a few paintings to jump start another season in the fields. While trees refuse to unfurl their tender green leaves and chipmunks were still slumbering underground, two faithful friends shared the love of outdoors by painting side by side.

High on an old railroad bed in Westford, I painted a marsh scene.  While painting, I heard some noises in the woods and step away from the easel.  There on the side of the hill I saw the Fischer cat, standing vertically against the side of a tree.  Our eyes locked for a rare moment of awareness and then he scampered away.

and an unfinished painting of moss and lichen covered granite boulders located behind my Westford cottage.

Well Preserved

I painted for a few hours at the John Greenleaf Whittier Homestead in Haverhill.

Although area temperatures were warming and the greening has commenced, my shod feet felt like 2 laid out 'catch of the day' in a bucket of ice after a few hours of standing in snow drifts along a hedge row.



This well cared for rural New England farm of 69 acres with trails, farm buildings and farmhouse.  The site is a wonderful museum established in 1892 after Whittier's , Snow-Bound, a lengthy poem became very popular and well liked during Victorian times. The poem narrates stories told by a family sitting around the fireplace, buttoned up in the farm house during a three day raging New England blizzard.

So I spent some time painting the brightly colored and well preserved barns surrounded by thick grey woods and melting snows.  When I returned home, I couldn't help but reference my very own canned peaches and tomatoes hidden away in my dark pantry to those two buildings.  Taking two jars out of storage and placing them on the table, who wouldn't enjoy their well preserved color and freshness after a good day of painting in late winter.

Snow Shoes and Paint Box

After two suffering falls while ice skating a few weeks ago, I have turned in my skates for a pair of snowshoes. Ice is such an unforgiving surface for old bones to scatter itself about on.

This past Saturday I tramped down my own path inside Old Calf Pasture in Concord , MA and headed for a snowy riverside path along the Sudbury River.   My winter walk begins with donning a painter's balaclava and a philosophy of although having limited knowledge of what lies ahead I'm confident I'll know it when I see it.  My divots in the snow displayed a frightening variety; nothing like the delicate tracks left behind by the meanderings of deer, otters or rabbits. I continued to scrutinize the frozen waterway banks lined with ancient willows for the right combination of form and line.  Not satisfied I kept on, leaning forward emitting steam driven breathes and a brow heavy with sweat until I came to the confluence of three rivers: the Sudbury, Assabet and Concord. There along the opposite bank was a bump of sorts; a snow covered bit of rocky ledge in the marsh flatland.   Now that looks interesting!

My first "Selfie'!

Because the snow drifts were deep, I kept my show shoes on while painting at the easel.  That's my blue denim painting apron and not a skirt!  Could have used gaiters to keep the snow out of my boots as well.

After returning home, I was curious about a man and his dog who came over that bit of ledge... was there a foot trail on the other side of the river?  After some online research, I discovered the 'bump' had a name. It is called Egg Rock and has historical and cultural importance in Concord. An inscription is carved into the rock which reads:
On the hill Nashawtuck
at the meeting of the rivers
and along the banks
lived the Indian owners of
Musketaquid
before the white men came.

Musketaquid is the Native American word for the Concord River meaning Meadow River.

And... I found in my research that there is indeed a foot trail on which the man and his dog traveled to reach Egg Rock.  It is off the Reformatory Branch Trail and parking can be found at the Simon Willard Woods.

And ...my painter's philosophy was once again tested and proven true..."I'll know it when I see it".

but what can stand against God Almighty's white?

My, how beautiful the earth is dressed today with a new garment of fresh snow.

If you drive east on Route 133 through the old common of North Andover, there is an iconic New England greeter; a beautiful, white-crowned with multiple spires U U church and to her right, clusters of small independent businesses in colonial attire.  I admire this quaint grouping every time I circle around the rotary pass on my way to somewhere over the hill.

With temperatures in the 20's and a brilliant sun, I gathered my gear yesterday and headed to this particular site.  Typically, it is a complex composition with its myriad forms and dark details but today it is reduced to a white layout of simplicity; easy shapes and forms.   The landscape, soft in white woolen layers, warm smoke swirling from chimneys has a dark backdrop of winter y woods on hill: a lovely contrast I think to myself.

Selecting my spot from which to paint, I stand weighted down with insulated boots, two layers of mittens, black woolen hat, bulky sweaters. I study the radiant light reflecting off glistening snow drifts and man made mounds.    The sun's brightness and warmth reaches my eyes and facial skin as I stand there contemplating.  The quickness of my heart moves inner heat to the far reaches of my toes and fingers. Is this ecstasy?

Creative Spirit blind me with your radiant love, allow me although with clumsy hands, set such wonder and beauty upon my empty canvas.