Room at the Counter - and the Passing of Puffy's Sister

Room at the Counter

Oil on canvas, 36x48

Available at Center Framing and Art, West Hartford Center, CT

I've become really interested in painting people, as those of you who follow this blog know. After a couple more commissions, I'm going to start the portrait project that I wrote about a while ago. 

The American Moments idea is an adjunct to that. Another person-related series, it began with "July 7."  "Room at the Counter" is the second of the series of paintings of small moments, the scenes that we see every day, and that give shape and color to our lives. 

Who hasn't seen that guy at the diner? He's alone, he doesn't have a book or a magazine with him. He's just waiting for his breakfast, as he has done every day for the past who knows how many years. He's young enough to wear shorts, and have a full head of hair, but life - and diner breakfasts, no doubt - have gotten him to the point where he can't get around without the cane. 

For the past few years, I've been taking photos of little scenes like these. I hadn't known what they were for, but now, I'm pretty sure they're for this project. 

I have no idea whether I can do these paintings well. I don't know if they will be appealing to people, or whether they will sell. But I feel a real need to do them, and so we shall see. What do you think? 

***

About 15 years ago, we adopted a nearly feral cat named Samantha. She was not spayed, but we promised the shelter we would spay her. A few days after we got her, we moved to Maine. A week or so later, Samantha got out. We had a devil of a time getting her back in, but eventually, we got a Have-A-Heart trap, and captured her. 

But during her brief outing, she got knocked up by a neighborhood Tom. She had four kittens, which we named Puffy, Tuffy, Snuffy and Scruffy. We kept Puffy, and gave the other three to friends. 

One, shown in the top photo, was taken by Liz, an editor at the paper where I worked. Liz named her "Kizzy," and though she'd been a little hesitant to take her, she fell in love with the kitten. 

Kizzy died recently, after a long, happy life. Liz said she was a great cat, who helped her through good times and tough times. She was much loved. 

Puffy and Samantha are both going strong. Here's Puffy, below. I think she still looks like a kitten. 

Sunset, Charlestown Breachway

 

Sunset, Charlestown Breachway

Oil on canvas, 10 inches by 10 inches

sold

I am still dilly-dallying with notions about this 100-painting project I'm on the brink of starting. 

For anyone who missed it, I am embarking on a project to make 100 10-inch-by-10-inch paintings. On the advice of Chris Rose, curator of the Lighthouse Gallery, and an artist and teacher whose insights I trust, I am working to limit the scope of the project - and it is tough! 

Instead of 100 random paintings, Chris is encouraging me to make some choices before I set out. Subject matter is the major choice, but there are others, too, including palette and tools/brushes. 

My brother Rand says he loves the idea of doing 100 dog paintings and then putting them together using mymosaicreview.com to make a giant image of a cat. I like that, too, but wonder if it seems too obvious, too easy. 

Of course, if I am going to do something like this, maybe obvious and easy is the smart way to go? 

At any rate, I tried a couple 10x10s the other day, and this is one. It did make me wonder if "Reflections" would be a theme, a focus. It is pretty broad, though, perhaps broad enough to get me in trouble. 

One of the followers of the blog here said that I will probably wake up one morning and find the idea full-blown in my consciousness, and I do like that thought. Meantime, I'll make one more call here for ideas. Got one? Please let me know! 

Jacobson Arts is located in beautiful downtown Gales Ferry, CT

Frenchman's Creek

Frenchman's Creek

Oil on canvas, 12x36

sold

This is another of the paintings I made while I was up in Gloucester, MA, last month.

It was morning, a beautiful morning, and I was planning on going somewhere with another painter, but needed to get gas first. There aren't many gas stations out there, and I'd gotten more than a little lost. I pulled into a boat-launch area, shady and cool, tucked away at the start of Frenchman's Creek, as I was informed by a sign.

It was a great place to paint, off the road yet solitary, and about as gorgeous as it gets. The tide came in while I painted, changing everything - another wrinkle in the plein-air pantheon.

I love this painting, the length of it, the breadth of it, the sunshine. It's everything that day was.

Don't forget to check out the Mystic Outdoor Art Festival! It's Saturday and Sunday, in downtown Mystic, CT. I'll be at the corner of Willow and Main, across from the post office... and I'll have this painting, and other new ones, with me.

Thank you, as always, for reading!

jacobson arts's world headquarters is well hidden in gales ferry, CT

Golden

Golden

Oil on canvas, 12x12

Donation for Montville Animal Shelter, as part of the Art for Shelter Animals Project

This golden Labrador needs a lot of help. He has a recurrent urinary tract issue that could come from Cushings disease, (which would be a fairly solvable problem) or from a neurological disorder (a difficult or impossible problem to solve).

Right now, he needs a test to figure out the origin of the issue.

This is a sweet, cheerful dog who's made friends with the kittens in the shelter. He is happy, bounding, galumphing, a real Lab-like guy who would be an excellent companion for someone who has the time and patience - and maybe the money - to care for him.

If you want to talk to Animal Control Officer Chris Martel, call her at 860-848-3529.

the world headquarters of jacobson arts is in Gales Ferry, CT

Dusk, Stonington Point

Dusk, Stonington Point

Oil on deep-cradled canvas, 16x20

sold

The days are getting shorter, and I feel the tug of winter settling in.

I know it is a million weeks away, but every day brings it closer. In the mornings I sit here and look out my window and before I remember, I wonder if it's storming, or if today is the day that the sun will not come up.

Hawks nested in the driveway this spring, and had two babies. The parents were vocal,  watching us and announcing our presence and their own for the whole summer. We watched the parents build the nest, catch a multitude of creatures to feed themselves and their babies, and then we watched as the young hawks learned to hunt.

I saw one of them in the yard one day, sort of stomping around on the grass. I thought he had caught something, but in fact, as I looked closer, I could see that he had not. I think he was trying to step on bugs.

I watched him, and honestly, I began to think he was developmentally disabled, too stupid to last in the world he lives in, the world of eat or be eaten.

One afternoon, he caught a worm, and flew off with it, clearly not quite understanding what to do.

Days later, he caught a vole.

Days after that, they all were gone.

I cling to these hot, bright days, live on the glory of sunflower fields, and day lilies and the delightful presence of the summer's crop of hummingbirds, and the knowledge that all of this will go, and will come back again.

jacobson arts world headquarters is in gales ferry, connecticut

Yellow House, Gloucester

Yellow House, Gloucester

oil on canvas, 10x20

Please contact me for price and shipping information

I had a lovely day at the Wickford Outdoor Art Festival Yesterday. People bought some of my paintings, yay! And I had just the best conversations with people at the show.

I met so many interesting people, who were happy to be alive, happy to be at the show, happy to be seeing art, and willing to talk and trade their experiences for mine.

It was a joy.

I am tired today, but happy to return. If you are looking for something to do today, why not come? It's going to be hot, though, so leave the dogs at home, and bring a lot of water.

Jacobson Arts is in Gales Ferry, CT

Summer Field, Newburyport, MA

Summer Field, Outside Newburyport, MA

Oil on canvas, 12x16

sold

The sun was shining on this field, and in the distance, day lilies were blooming around that barn-shaped house. The day was hot, and the sun had that brilliance that it has anywhere near the ocean.

A woman came by as I was finishing this painting and told me that the field had just been purchased by a local greenbelt association, to be kept as green space, open to the public.

She and her dog walked down the path, and I decided to do another painting, a small one I will post tomorrow.

When the woman and the dog came back, he was wet from swimming in a pond in the woods you can see in this painting. He was happy, and wagging his tail, and he shook himself hard before he got into the van.

Time is putting distance between Kaja's death and my heart, and I am grateful. I got through Thursday without weeping, and that is good. My old girl wouldn't want me to be weeping, not for too many days.

And I must get past it, because I am in a big show this weekend in Wickford, RI. I am Tent no. 78, on Elam Street. It is a fabulous show, one of the top in New England, and I am honored to have been accepted. Click here to find out more about the show, or visit wickfordart.org!

It's a fine destination if you're looking for something fun to do over the weekend. If you go, please stop by my tent and say hello!

Thank you, everyone who wrote to me and offered me condolences. Your thoughts and words and prayers mean a lot to me.

The world headquarters of Jacobson Arts is in Gales Ferry, CT

First Day on the Marsh

First Day on the Marsh

Oil on canvas, 11x14

I feel like an addict who's found her drug of choice: the Great Marsh.

Essex, just up the road from where I am staying in Gloucester, MA, runs along the edge of this gigantic, gorgeous, wildly living marsh. Everywhere you turn, there is something beautiful to see.

The water snakes through the rich grasses, and the wind ruffles it in waves, and when the tide goes out, you can smell the salt and the brine and the centuries of animals and plankton and grasses that have lived and died on the marsh.

Egrets and cormorants, ducks and seagulls, crabs and snails and who knows all what gathered on the marsh, eating, swimming, darting around. And above it all, a huge sky stretches out, wide and blue and open.

A woman and her granddaughter and their poodle came and looked at my painting, and invited me to park in their driveway whenever I wanted.

The marsh is gorgeous in the fall, she said, and in the winter, it looks like it goes on forever.

In the summer, it looks like it goes on forever, too.

The World Headquarters of Jacobson Arts is in Gales Ferry, Conn.

Chelsea Groton Bank Exhibit

Pieces of mine at the Chelsea Groton Bank on Long Hill Road, Groton

I am having a heck of a summer, in terms of painting and opportunity. My stuff has been selling well and steadily, which gives me all sorts of hope, and makes me worry about the consequences of hoping too much.

I've gotten into a series of good summer shows again:

• The Wickford Outdoor Art Festival, July 9 and 10, in Wickford, R.I.
• Art on Groton Bank, July 16, Groton, CT
• The Mystic Outdoor Art Festival, Aug. 13 and 14, Mystic, CT
• Paradise City Northampton, MA, Oct. 8-10 (Columbus Day weekend)

And there might be more! I am hopeful!

Right now, I am really enjoying this small show of my animal paintings in the lobby of the Chelsea Groton Bank on Long Hill Road. For anyone in the area, the building is on the corner of the little road that goes back to Benny's and the post office, pretty much across the street from CVS and Starbucks.

Chris Rose, who runs the Gallery at Lighthouse, arranged the show. The bank had invited him to invite local artists to exhibit, and I am the ice-breaker.

I am starting to understand what my paintings do to the rooms where they hang. They are really very bright, and they change things. They changed this lobby, that's for sure!

When we were hanging the pieces, someone who works in the building came along, and told us how happy it made her to see something colorful hanging there. She left smiling - and left me smiling, too.

jacobson arts world headquarters is on whalehead road in gales ferry, CT

Nellie, and thoughts on Father's Day

Nellie

Oil on canvas, 12x12, commission

It's Father's Day today, and that's led me to all sorts of thoughts about the shape of family and the shape of parenting.

The family that we have - a grown daughter, four grandchildren ranging in age from 25 to 8, and here in our home, seven dogs and three cats - this is not the family that, when I was growing up, I imagined I'd have.

I thought I'd have a "regular" family. A husband who earned the money. A big house in the suburbs. Two kids, maybe three, and a dog. When the kids were young, I'd be in my 20s or 30s. By the time they went to college, I'd be the age I am now.

I thought my house would always be clean. I'd be svelte, and lineless, and absurdly fit. I would have garden-club friends, and give elegant dinner parties and have plenty of savings in the bank for old age.

Of course, I thought old age would never come. Heck, I thought middle age would never come.

Well, middle age has been here for a while. The family is an interesting amalgam of stepchildren, step-grandchildren, and the vanished fathers of grandchildren. Our own house is never clean, we scrape to pay the bills, Peter does the cooking and the cleaning and the housework, and I am far from svelte or lineless.

But what we have is so much richer than anything I'd imagined. There is love and honesty and courage and inspiration in this house, and in this family. There is art and creativity and kindness. There is honor and faith and a belief in the best of people, and, having seen some of the darkest stretches of life, there is a belief in the best of possibilities.

To read my Father's Day story, and see a photo of Dad and me when we were both about 53 years younger, click here.

The world headquarters of Jacobson Arts is on Whalehead Road in Gales Ferry, CT

Moose

Moose

commission

Our old dog is still hanging on, and most days, I think we're doing the right thing for her. I wonder if it is the right thing for us.

Most days, she has the bright look in her eyes, the sparkle that is hers and always has been. Some days, it's not there.

She is painfully thin, though we spend our days feeding her. She's gotten very picky, knowing, I believe, that we will give her better and better stuff. Peter bought her her own already cooked chicken last week, and she ate it (we feed her by hand) pretty much all by her lonesome.

Most days, she can't get up by herself, but will exhaust herself trying, so it's become necessary for one of us to be here with her pretty much all the time. At night, this often means waking up five or six times, and staying up for hours while she paces.

Her coat is falling out, so there is no more brushing her. We cut off pieces when we have to. The vets don't know why this alopecia has happened, but it shows no sign of leaving. Kaja's once-beautiful plume of a tail is not a mostly bare rat tail.

When I write it like this, it sounds like we should euthanize her. I know it does. But then she will see me coming and take a little hopping jaunt to greet me. Or she will come over and lean against me, smiling with her eyes, as she always has. Or she will follow Jojo into the bedroom and snap at her, in play, when Jojo is too rambunctious.

She is an old girl now, unsteady and slow. Her beauty has spun to dearness, her strength to resilience, and the place she has always held in my heart has grown. 

I watch the old girl walk around the yard, clearly loving the feel of the grass beneath her feet, and the smells that float on the breeze, clearly still loving her plodding explorations, and I think, not today. Not today.

And I pray that death will find her on its own, as she sleeps, one day not too far from now.

the world headquarters of jacobson arts is in gales ferry, connecticut

Maple Avenue, Hadley

Maple Avenue, Hadley

Oil on canvas, 11x14

Please email me for price and shipping/delivery information! 

The third day of the Paradise City Arts Festival was not a day of sales for me, but a day of meeting people and connecting. And while this doesn't put money in my pocket, it does put joy in my heart.

I spent a lot of time looking at my paintings with people who were entranced by them. The looks of delight on these people's faces, the smiles that my paintings brought to them, the recognition of the soul, these are things that mean a lot to me.

A couple special treats during this show were visits from friends and family. On Saturday, I heard someone calling my name and turned to see my niece Larkin racing toward me, arms outstretched, followed by my brother Rand and his wife Molly. And on Monday I turned around and found my dear friend Jill Blanchette standing by my elbow.

To have people I love go so far out of their way means a huge amount to me! And the support of all of you, reading this blog, sending me emails and thoughtful comments, I appreciate it enormously.

Pam Nelson, a neighbor and a woman who has painted, shown, taught and earned her living through her art, loaned me a couple exhibition panels for the show. When I confided in her that in spite of everything, my lack of confidence is at times nearly paralyzing, she admitted that even for her, the same was true.

A show like this, visits from people I love, and a day of touching hearts like I had on Sunday, gives me a little break from the traffic of self-doubt that is so often snarled up in my head.

Jacobson Arts World Headquarters is in Gales Ferry, CT

Harpswell Harbor

Harpswell Harbor

Oil on canvas, 11x14
sold

Oh, I love this painting! I love the red house, especially, and the way the buildings are tucked together, close and tight, facing the setting sun. I can imagine them in shadow in the mornings, and with yellow lights shining out in early winter dusks.

I can imagine them in snowstorms, and with the heavy icy Maine-coast rains pelting and slamming them in November.

There's something about a village, a cluster of houses, a small gathering of buildings close together that always appeals to me. I loved Bolster's Mills, in southwestern Maine, where we lived on and off for 10 years. There were about 40 houses there, and while not everyone got along all the time, when you drove through, you'd think - in this village, they all are friends.

I hope you come see me this weekend at the Paradise City Arts Festival in Northampton, Mass. I'll be in the Morgan Barn, Booth 317. Please stop in and say hi!

jacobson arts world headquarters are in gales ferry, CT

Training Sheepdogs

Training Sheepdogs

Oil on canvas, 24x30

Please contact me for price and delivery options

I was trolling around the backroads between Fryeburg, Maine, and North Conway, NH, when I came upon a small group of people, a small group of dogs and a harried-looking clutch of sheep.

It was a sheepdog clinic. The canines were young and inexperienced, and a stocky farmer guy was training dogs and owners alike.

It was pretty fascinating. For the most part, the dogs clearly have the chasing gene - but have to learn the commands. One of the dogs was reluctant to chase, and the farmer guy dragged him over near the sheep and exhorted him, and he took off, as speedy and determined as any of them. My guess is that that dog's been yelled at for chasing...

The rest, though, got a gleam in their eye right away, as they went after the poor, overchased sheep. It was great fun to watch, and I'd have stayed all day, were I not supposed to be at a wedding.

It's such a miracle when any of us, humans or animals, finds his true purpose in life. I can tell you from experience that it feels like nothing else. The whole world seems to open up and shine with life, and possibilities seem endless.

Hope to see you at the Paradise City Arts Festival this weekend! I'll be in the Morgan Barn, Booth 317. Please come and say hi.

jacobson arts is located in Gales Ferry, CT

Jersey Girl

Jersey Girl

Oil on canvas, 16x20

sold

Today, I turn 55.

I'm not sure how I feel about it, really. I mean, of course, it's just another day, and I am no older today vs. Sunday than I was Sunday vs. Saturday. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of the passage of time, and the passage of my time in particular.

On Friday, I had an assessor come over and look at the stuff of my mother's that's been in our garage for the past two years. Today, I gave my daughter my mother's old spice rack, with spices intact, that I'd been using - even though it didn't fit at all in the spot we have for spices.

These days, all these days lately, I've been watching the ebb and flow of what must surely be the last weeks of my ancient and beloved dog's life.

And today, I turn 55.

There was a time, not so long ago, that the thought of dying terrified me. Life felt like a corridor lined with doors, and I could hear them slamming shut behind me as my choices decreased, day by day.

Sure, the doors behind me are shut - but the ones in front of me are open.

While death is surely approaching, I can say that if I died today, I'd die happy with the life I've led.

And that is saying something.

The world headquarters of Jacobson Arts is in Gales Ferry, CT

To each, his own

Spring Field. Oil on stretched canvas, 11x14

There are lots of ways to get from our house in Gales Ferry to our daughter's house in Westerly, R.I. One is to drive up Route 184, go around the rotary, and pick up Route 2.

For lots of reasons recently, we've been taking that route. And I've noticed, time after time, a field beside a small house just south of the rotary. It's backed by trees and a stone wall. Its small hill and rippling undulations are covered with a dark moss and bright yellow grasses. And in the middle of it, a stand of thin trees is tipped now with springtime red, the buds pushing toward the sky.

And so, Sunday afternoon, I headed over to paint it.

When I arrived, I realized there was no good place to pull over close to the field. So I pulled up in a parking lot across the street, farther away than I'd like, but safe.

I set up and began painting, and in about 10 minutes, an older man made his way across the street. Would I mind if he looked over my shoulder? No, I said, of course not.

We talked a little, then. Turns out he owns the field I was painting, and he, too, thinks it's beautiful. He invited me to pull up in his driveway and paint whenever I want.

Then he came a little closer, took a look at my painting, a look that lasted about a half a minute, and said "Nice to meet you!" and headed back to his home.

Well, my painting is not for everyone.

Thanks for reading!

Ocean Beach Park

Ocean Beach Park. Oil on stretched canvas, 8x10

When I was a kid, we lived about a mile from Ocean Beach. We'd go there a few times a summer, not for the beach, but for the rides.

One of my earliest memories is riding the horses on the carousel, leaning out, stretching out my long arms and grabbing a ring as I passed. I can still hear the carousel music, and feel the movement of the horses, and see the blur of faces as I concentrated on that ring.

Beside the carousel was the dodge car rink, a dark, cool, place with a screen all around it, and the smell of oil always hanging just above the slippery floor. You'd get in the car, drive like a maniac and make it your business to smash into as many other cars as you could. The cars were small, and spun easily, and were somehow powered by long poles with little metal flags at the top that must have pulled electricity down from a grid in the ceiling. The poles and flags would spark sometimes, and crackle, and, often, the power would flash out for a moment, stranding you mid-crash.

In time, there came a ride that I think was called The Flying Cages. These were closet-sized cages built of heavy open metal work. You'd stand in them, alone or with a partner, and bend your knees, swinging from side to side, using all your body weight and all your strength to make the cage swing higher and higher. When you built up enough momentum, the cage would swing over the top of the fulcrum and plummet down, and then up, maybe swinging over again, maybe making it almost to the top and then swinging down the way it came.

Farther from the merry-go-round was a Ferris wheel, a small but terrifying roller coaster (Mighty Mouse, I think) and a scary ride whose name I can't remember that turned people upside down (we would find change beneath it). There was the Octopus and the Tilt-A-Whirl, and some other baby rides, and they all made noise, and had music and got people to laughing and screaming.

On sunny summer weekends, Beach traffic would be backed up past our house. Sometimes, the parking lot would fill right up, and people would park on Ocean Avenue, as far up as our house and sometimes, beyond.

Sometimes, in the evenings, we could hear the music of the rides on the wind. Sometimes, a band would play. Sometimes there were fireworks.

Ocean Beach has fallen on hard times. The beach is still there, and the arcade. There are still rides, and you can walk on the boardwalk and, in the summer, play miniature golf, and eat cotton candy and popcorn. Traffic never backs up on Ocean Avenue, and my bet is that no one who lives on Ocean these days has seen Beach cars parked past up past Woodlawn.

Ocean Beach just isn't what it used to be. Then again, what is?

I'm pinging in the rain...

Harkness Park. Oil on stretched canvas, 8x10, sold

Every day, after I write my blog, I go to the feedburner site, sign in, and "ping" my blog. Pinging is what submariners used to do to find other subs underwater. They'd send out little blurts of sound, and when it bounced - or pinged - off another sub, and returned to the sender, the sub that had done the pinging could tell where the other subs were. At least, that's my concept of it, from "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea."

Well, feedburner pings my blog and then sends it out to everyone who has subscribed by email. As it does this, it tells me how many people are subscribed - but not who they are.

Last week, I had 30 subscribers. I celebrated when I hit that 30 mark, I tell you! It was exciting. This from someone who, for 20 years, followed circulation figures as though my life depended on it - and, in fact, my professional life did.

Well, sad to say, I have lost two of my subscribers. Yesterday, I went to ping my blog, hoping I'd find that I had 31 subscribers - and two, yes, two, were gone.

I've asked myself why this matters. Heck, hundreds of people could be reading every day, just not subscribing. Yup. They could be, but chances are, they're not. Chances are that the subscribers - and perhaps my 19 followers - are the only ones who are reading this.

And that's fine. Circulation growth is a slow business, I know. I only wish I knew why those two people left! So, if you're one of them, let me know, would you? I am as curious as can be.

If you're reading this, and you're not subscribed, why don't you take a moment and sign up? The posts, and paintings, will arrive in your mailbox daily. You'll never have to remember to check in again. And you'll make me mighty happy.

To all of you, subscribers, followers and visitors alike, thank you for reading. You are why I write this blog!

Check out artforshelteranimals.blogspot.com, too!

Wishful thinking

Last Snow? Oil on stretched canvas, 11x14
please contact me for price and shipping/delivery info

It sure feels like this winter should be over, but it's not. The night turned cold, the rain turned to snow, and I woke to see everything covered in white again.

Still, there's a different quality to the light. And dawn comes much, much earlier these days. It seems to hasten in leaps and bounds, and that feels hopeful and heartening.

I was looking at the blog of R. Garriott ( http://rgarriott.blogspot.com/) a painter of gorgeous flowers, among other things... A painting on her site led me to the work of Taryn Day (http://awakeandpainting.blogspot.com/) and something that she wrote - it doesn't really matter what, and I can't remember anyways - made me look out the window and see, as if for the first time, the scene just beyond the pane.

It's nothing, really, just a tangle of trees and brambles, a stone wall and our neighbor's house in the distance. But the morning sun was slicing through the grove, and leaving streaks of shadow and light on the new-fallen snow - and I knew that this thing I've been looking for the past week was here. I ran down into the basement and grabbed my stuff and hauled it upstairs and painted in a frenzy -

And there is something in this painting. Something in the shadows, in the texture, in the play of light - the next step, it's here.

Thanks for reading!

Scratching the surface

Lantern Hill Lake. Oil on stretched canvas, 12x16

In the cold of the boat-launch ramp at Lantern Hill Lake yesterday, I reached for the next rung in my painting ladder. It has something to do with shadows, I think, and something to do with some kind of lacy veil I need to pull over the sharpness of certain parts of my paintings.

As I was driving to the lake yesterday, I got a whiff of where I'm going with this, and in my mind's eye, I caught a glimpse of how these paintings will look. This one doesn't capture that feeling fully, or even mostly, though places in it bring me a certain sense of ease, and so I am hopeful.

I have climbed another technical mountain, and managed to add a "buy now" button to my blog. This means that if a painting strikes you, and you'd really like to have it, and make sure no one else gets it, you can buy it right there, using a credit card or pay pal.

So far, I have not sold a single painting directly from this blog. I have posted paintings that I've sold in real life, but none that I've offered for sale here has resonated strongly enough with you readers to prompt you to purchase. And if that's the case, that's fine. My painting is evolving, and part of that process involves me finding out what motivates and moves collectors and would-be collectors.

But if the issue has been that it's been difficult or awkward to figure out how to buy a painting, well, that problem is solved.

If you buy a painting from the blog, it will, in general, arrive unframed; I post them here on the day I paint them, or a day or two after. If you buy one, and you live in mailing distance, it will be a week or so until the painting is dry enough to send through the mail. If you buy a pastel, it will arrive framed.

I've put "buy now" buttons on paintings back through the middle of January. I will extend the buttons backwards as I have time. If you want a painting from earlier, just let me know and I will enable the transaction!