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

The Red Church

The Red Church

Oil on canvas, 16x20

In real life, the red building here is a small white church without a steeple. But the fabulous painter Gene Bove (check out his website) once said to me, "If you're going to have a building, it might as well be red." So, red it was.

Still, I'm not nuts about the painting. Maybe the building should be white (and I'd change the title). But more than that, I think there's too much too-thin green. So when I get back home, I'm going to go back into this painting, and see if I can make it more interesting.

The Edge of the Dark

The Edge of the Dark

Oil on canvas, 20x60, $1,200

Call me at 860-442-0246 or email me

if you are interested in buying this painting

I drove along the reservoir near dusk the other night. The water had not quite frozen over, though it was close. The land, in fingers of blue and purple, crept back into a haze on the far horizon. Wind blew over the ice and it seemed that the land might never be warm again.

I've showed this painting to three people whose opinions I trust. One said it made her feel cold and sad. One liked it - but, given the chance to try it at home, declined. The other loved it, and is thinking of buying it, but has not committed yet.

It is a big painting, and it is stark, but it has colors and hope, too. Here's a detail of the bluff on the right of the painting:

I get tired of winter, I do. And as I grow older, I get tired of it more quickly. But I will never tire of the way the big, broad swaths of snow magnify reactions and response and emotions. A glorious sunrise seems ever more glorious over a snow-covered field, a desolate dusk even more lonely over a frozen reservoir.