December, 2009

It is with a sigh of relief and gratitude that I add "Stonington in January" to my website. I’ve never worked as hard and long (over a year) on a painting. That time was filled with personal challenges and sorrow, but all is okay now. There is a passage from Robert Henri’s fine book, “The Art Spirit”, first published in 1923, that seems to fit:

“He who has contemplated and has met with himself, is in a state to see the realities beyond the surfaces of his subject. Nature reveals to him, and, seeing and feeling intensely, he paints, and whether he wills it or not each brush stroke is an exact record of such as he was at the exact moment the stroke was made.”

I cannot say what was in each brush stroke in this painting, but I do know that it was about effort.... and ultimately about finding a place of peace.

June, 2009

Meanwhile....
I’m working on a big painting. It’s going well, but will be awhile before I have anything to show, so I’ll take advantage of this lull in updates to share some stories with you about a few earlier paintings. Here are two:

"Sunshine" (2001)
You can find this one on page 4 of the Paintings page. I spied this wonderful place on Monhegan Island, where I traveled in 1997 to paint alone. Most of the houses on Monhegan have blue shutters. I came across this place on a morning walk and loved the yellow shutters with the daffodils and tall grasses, the old metal handrail with glint of blue paint. The painting title comes from a line in the Penelope chapter of James Joyce’s "Ulysses" - "and the sun shines for you today yes"

"Ex Libris II" (2005)
(Please see page 3 of the Paintings page). This intriguing little building used to be the blacksmith shop here in Stonington. Now it is the summer home and studio of a retried college professor and his wife, who is a watercolorist and makes bookmarks. I had already decided on the painting’s title when I noticed that many of the books in the window still have library tags on their spines. Ex Libris indeed! On this painting I wanted to put the back of the canvas to work too, so I listed my favorite books on a sheet of parchment paper in a wrap-line format and attached that to the back. The idea was that most of the books should not be best sellers.

Late August, 2008

Summer here in Stonington is winding down. The air is cool at night and there’s a hint of fall in the air. None of that has anything to do with the two new paintings on this website (“Doc’s Expression” and “Boatyard”) other than to comment on the relatively slow pace of life here, which makes for a fertile ground for creative expression.

“Boatyard” is actually located in E. Boothbay, Maine, a few hours southwest of here. I was there a few years ago, alone and exploring one day -- had a nice lunch across the water from the boatyard, looked out, saw the reflection and was fascinated. Who would think such an ordinary building could make such an intriguing painting subject? Maine is full of such treasures.

And Doc… my darling dog… I’ve settled on one painting per year of him at this point. He’s now eleven and a half; I may have to pick up the pace as he becomes even more tender, wise and loving with age.

May, 2008

Continuing on the subject of winter’s rewards (which may seem odd in May), I am pleased to share another new painting: “A Softened Sound.” You can find it on the Paintings page of this website and see the sea smoke rising from the water. This beautiful occurrence in Nature only happens on very cold winter mornings and thus is only seen by those who remain here in Stonington during the coldest season. Such a sight is ample reward for enduring winter’s hardships. The title comes from a line in my favorite poem, “You Reading This, Be Ready” by William Stafford: “What scent of old wood hovers, what softened sound from outside fills the air?”

April, 2008

Latest Work
After a long winter, springtime is well on the way to Stonington – a season of relief and renewal. Yet winter brings its own special gifts. One of which is a time for solitude and mental exploration here in my studio – my sanctum – overlooking the harbor. In my mind I traveled many places…. I stood on a rock, witness to a fine sunset on Mount Dessert Island. As I worked on the triptych (3 paintings that together make one scene) of that sunset, each brushstroke was an act of confidence and joy. It is a painting about imagination, passion and the gift of time. You’ll find it on the Paintings page, “Cadillac Mountain Sunset”.

February, 2008

Here in Maine in late February, winter feels endless. But the days are getting longer – with an increase of 1 hour and 23 minutes of daylight since the Winter Solstice. Spring must be on the way. Three of my latest paintings are reminiscent of warmer days. You’ll find them at the beginning of the Paintings page. “View from High Land” is a neighborhood scene, a view from Highland Avenue past an old church and summer cottage towards the harbor. “Tropical Stonington” is John Ollman’s magnificent garden down on Main Street. Although there’s little that could be called tropical here, those flowers are as lush and bright as, say, Hawaii. And third, is an Irish scene. You will see that I liked this little shop so much, I painted it twice.

September, 2007

Summer's End
It’s five o’clock in the afternoon on Labor Day as I type this update. The sun is still bright and warm out my studio windows; soon it will segue into the golden light of sunset. Isle au Haut rests pale lavender on the horizon, and there is a feeling of peacefulness in the air. Driving our winding, hilly roads here on Deer Isle one sees red leaves already starting to peek through the heavy green canopy on the trees. Summer is coming to a close here on the coast of Maine. It’s been a good summer in Stonington and I’m pleased to share three new paintings: “Doc at Rest” – the third in my “Doc @” series, and “Summer Flowers” – both on the Paintings page. From there, click “Other Paintings” and you’ll see a new clapboard, “timeless grace”. I’ve got 3 new paintings underway and will happily share them with you in a few months.

Recent Paintings
You’ll find two new oil (on linen) paintings on the Paintings page, “A Light from the East” and “Lloyd’s Old House”. Both are winter scenes close to home, so close they are a matter of yards from my studio. It’s July now and cold weather seems remote, but the mixture of drama and peacefulness here in winter is worthy of witness. I hope you’ll enjoy looking at these paintings as much as I enjoyed creating them.

February 2007

Every Picture Tells a Story
Sometimes something magical happens, something that didn’t seem to come from me but that I had the pleasure of being the messenger. Sometimes I know where it came from, other times not. In this case I know exactly where it came from. And it’s who rather than where. Last year I did two small paintings of my hearing service dog, Doc, as studies for a larger painting for Richard, a good friend who loves Doc as much as I do. I was so happy with the small paintings that I put Doc up on the stool in front of my easel so that he too could see how fine he looked, and I snapped a photo of him sitting there looking at one of the studies and out the window nearby. A few days later, I E-mailed photos of the studies to Richard, suggesting that if he liked one of them I could expand on it to do a larger painting for him, and I included the photo of Doc at my easel – as a joke....

....That evening Richard sent his response: Paint THAT. Oh no! I can’t do that. It just wouldn’t work. That’s too complicated. Okay, I won’t worry about it. I’ll just go to sleep and tomorrow Richard will come to his senses about this. The next morning there were three more E-mails from Richard, telling me why I should paint this. He was persuasive, and I am so very grateful to him because I had a marvelous time painting my dog, my view, my studio… all objects of my love… for a special friend who encouraged me to reach beyond myself with this new painting, “Considering the View”. That’s collaboration of the best kind.

January 2007

New Year Focus
So a new year begins… this one with happy anticipation and plans for new paintings. I signed “Robinson Point Light” (of the lighthouse on Isle Au Haut, which you can see on the Paintings page) a few weeks ago, and will soon post a new painting of Doc – considerably more ambitious than last year’s studies of him. Next up: a couple of winter scenes here in town, a couple of paintings from a trip to Italy in 2005, a new addition to the Doc series, and paintings of places within a stone’s throw of my studio (if you have a good pitching arm). As my college Economics professor used to say, “If you don’t know what you’re looking for, you're never going to find it.” This year I have a sure sense of direction, perhaps more than ever before.

October 2006

Something Different
Since moving to Maine in 2000, I’ve become especially interested in the effects of light. It is a constant reminder of the magnificence of the sun and the earth. On a more local level, I’ve always enjoyed walking outdoors in the early evening, when the sun starts to go down and the interior lights are brighter than the natural light outside. It’s not dark enough to close the curtains yet, but an outsider can see inside clearly and be comforted by the warmth and safety implied by the incandescent glow. While visiting in New York last November, I was moved by the beautiful light – both natural and man-made – as I looked out a 28th floor window over Manhattan one evening and saw all those little beacons of hope. This past summer and into early fall, I put it on canvas in “Nightlines.”

June, 2006

A New Body of Work… the body being a dog
It’s time. "Doc", my hearing service dog, is 9 years old and going strong, but it’s time for me to test my skills at capturing his personality on canvas. So a series of small paintings has begun. You can see the first two, “Doc at Home” and “Doc at Sea” on the Paintings page. Painting him is just plain fun. And continuing my love affair with Maine, you’ll also find a new landscape painting, “Sunrise from Russ Hill” - the morning counterpart to “Nautical Twilight.”

March 2006

Think Spring
March already? Apart from one memorable day a month or more ago when the wind howled across the harbor at 66 mph, winter was relatively mild this year on the coast of Maine. Here in my studio on the coldest days, I was able to imagine springtime as I put the finishing touches on “Nora’s Garden” – a new painting which you can find on the Paintings Page of this website. The setting is a beautiful, free-spirited garden a block up the street. But it is much more than just a pretty garden to me; it is the home and labor of love to two dear friends, who include me in their lives. I’ve had too many good times at their house to count, and I walk my dog by their garden daily. Painting is personal. When I can paint a place that I love for people I love, it is new way to experience something that is already known. My paintings are not memory paintings in the traditional use of the term. But memory and reflection and thoughts of appreciation meander through my mind as I paint. It’s a nice feeling.

January 2006

Musings on a January Day
Wintertime is mercifully quiet here on the coast of Maine. Looking out my studio window at the bare trees, the gray harbor – almost empty of the lobster boats that crowd it in the summer, the tiny islands beyond, and Isle Au Haut etched sharply against a cold, pale sky, is a time of appreciation and reflection. It leads to a nice state of mind for painting. The season may be slow socially and in terms of activity, but the solitude is welcome and rich with thoughts about paintings underway and ideas for new works.

I don’t talk much about being a deaf artist as I certainly don’t want to be labeled as a “Deaf Artist”. I’m an artist. If my work speaks to you, it doesn’t matter if I'm deaf, hearing, short, tall, male, female, etc. Yet - because I am deaf - my art is the most important communication tool I've got. It’s not so much about what I want to say as it’s about the ability to receive. When others respond to my work, and especially when I am there to see their reactions – the change in their breathing, the expressions on their faces, the smiles of recognition or looks of a happy discovery – that is the finest communication I could ask for.