Moriarty, NM

 Moriarty, NM / Oil on black canvas / 8x10  / $120 including shipping

sold! 

THE FIRST PAINTING of a trip always frightens me. I haven't painted for the days of driving, and usually also for many days before the trip, while I was getting ready. 

Painting came to me out of the blue, and so I often wonder if, one day, it will go away, as fully and as mysteriously as it appeared. The run-up to the first painting of a trip is inevitably filled with these unhelpful thoughts. 

On this trip, I didn't plan this first painting. I didn't promise myself anything, I didn't expect anything. We pulled off in a rest stop in Moriarty, NM, and I looked across the highway at the landscape and decided this would be it. I got my stuff together and I started the painting before I had time to worry myself out of it. 

I painted fast, and without thought, and I was grateful. My best paintings are the fastest ones, and the ones I dither over the least. I love the way this one came out. It is bright, and simple, but has a lot in it, too. 

And for me, the best part was that it was done! The first painting was out of the way. YAY! 

***

Dog of the Day

Nice gig if you can get it. Saw this cutie in Walmart in Sahuarita, Arizona. 

***

Coda

 

"Some cowboys have too much tumbleweed in their blood to settle down." 

- Ken Alstad

The Way In

The Way In / Oil on black canvas / 16x20 / $500 including shipping

Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like to buy this painting

TO MY AMAZEMENT, I have started dating. It was a brief experience, and it ended not well but not horribly, and while the whole thing utterly shocked me, it was an important if painful step, and I feel blessed and grateful to have taken it. 

The person with whom I was involved could not have been more different from Peter, and perhaps that made the whole thing easier - though none of it was easy. I wept for taking my heart away from for grieving for Peter. I trembled at what felt, at first, like a betrayal of him. I scolded myself for taking this respite from grief. But I went ahead.  

It was hard to take that big step into living again, and to be reminded, with each inch of road I traveled, that I was edging away from Peter, from grief, from my old life, even, in a way, from my old self. Taking a first, brief journey on what might or might not be a long new road. 

I had thought I'd be alone forever, that love would live only as a memory, and that that would be enough. And who knows? Maybe this small and, in the end, unhappy romance was the only one that will come my way between now and whenever I am too old. But maybe it's not. 

And even with the pain of failure and breakup - a pain I haven't felt or considered for 40 years - I hope it's not the only one. But if it is, I still believe it was important to do this, to wager my heart on the hand of love. 

***

Coda

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mind.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again. 

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - 

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things. 

- Mary Oliver

Mountain Sunset

Mountain Sunset / oil on canvas / 8x24 / $185 including shipping

sold! 

AGAIN, I FIND MYSELF TIRED, at this not-so-late end to the day. I did get up early, a little after 4:30. I transplanted some tomato plants and watered the gardens, and then Liesl and the dogs and I walked for an hour. 

I did a WalMart pick-up, attended a Zoom meeting, painted a little, talked to my counselor, then painted again until late in the afternoon. I loaded the van with paintings to bring to one of my patrons tomorrow. Now I am watering the garden again and wondering why I am so tired. But when I list it all out like this, it looks like enough to make anyone tired. 

Still, I recognize that underneath everything, I am indeed tired. Losing Peter has taken from me a few degrees of - what? - youth? hope? optimism? energy? all of the above?

My days used to begin with the thought of the joy of a day of painting and cooking and doing stuff around the house. Now, my first thought is that he is gone, and I am here alone. It is not all dark. Not all sad and dismal. But I wonder sometimes if I will ever be truly happy again. If I will ever feel the joy I used to feel. 

So I will take it easy now, put off the rest of the day's tasks until tomorrow, have a good dinner and revive my energy. It is all part of the process, I know. I just want the process to be easier.

***

 For Today

"In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks." 

- John Muir

Blue Evening

Blue Evening

Oil on canvas, 24x36

sold

Between my recent show in Northampton, MA, and my show in Roanoke, VA, I got sick. Felt it coming on, in my nose first, then my throat, then, as I was driving from Rhode Island to Roanoke, I felt it grabbing hold of me and digging in. Ugh. I got sicker and sicker, the closer I came to Roanoke. It was a long drive - and I think it was a beautiful drive, too, though most of the time, I was concentrating too hard to notice. 

The thing I did notice was the afternoon slipping into evening, the light slipping into shadow, and the brilliance of the day's sunshine slipping into soft shades of blue and purple. I held the image with me through an encounter with a bad hotel and a move to a new one, through a hot set-up in Roanoke, through the show, through my sickness and the heat and the sweat and the happy sales, and when I got home, I painted this. 

I was short on canvases, and painted it over a painting of people skiing. The skiing piece was one I'd always liked, but it had never sold, and so I sacrificed it to "Blue Evening." It makes an even more interesting surface than usual! 

This piece sold so quickly because it went out in an early email to my patrons. That's one of the advantages of my burgeoning patron program - you get to see the pieces before everyone else! There are other rewards, too, in addition to knowing that you're helping me live my dream. To check it out, visit the Patronage Plan page on my website, Jacobson Arts, or click here. 

***

Dog of the Day

Here's Daisy, an old girl who visited me at the show in Tubac. A word to you dog owners out there... It's probably too hot to take your dog to an art show this summer. It's a mistake I've made, and I will never forget my dear Gus practically keeling over from the heat at an art show I thought he'd enjoy attending. Here's a poster from National Safety Inc.

***

A Final Thought

"Art is making something out of nothing, and selling it." 

- Frank Zappa

Tetons Homestead

Tetons Homestead

Oil on black canvas, 12x12

                                                         

I had been planning on driving to Wyoming and Montana after the show in Omaha, but all sorts of things seemed to be conspiring against my going, and so I came home. I am planning on a painting trip to those western states in the fall, when it is sure to be incredibly beautiful.

But the thought of the West has blossomed in my head, so I took the opportunity to make this painting of a gorgeous log cabin in the Tetons. I'd love to live there, with the sky huge and open above me, and the mountains standing strong behind me, reminding me every day of the force and power that formed our earth.

I don't think I'd like to live there in the winter, though.

***

MY FRIENDS Pat Hart and Carol Burnham are going to reopen Seaside Antiques and Art soon, right here on Main Street in Wachapreague, and that's very exciting. It was more than a year ago when a truck rammed into the side of the store, knocked it off its foundation, ruined most of the items inside, and meant the store's closing for many months. 

Pat and Carol had the front half of the building removed, a new porch added, and the inside redone, and they are ready to open soon! They have wonderful antiques, ranging from inexpensive to very dear, all chosen with love and care. And they have art by local artists, including me and, soon, Peter. 

I believe July 1 is the opening date, so if you're in Wachapreague, take a look and see. 

***

Dog of the Day

It's Doc and Lulu, in their favorite spot, between the couch cushions and the couch back. They will stay this way, feet in the air, heads totally buried (how do they breathe?) for hours. 

***

A Final Thought

"I dream my painting and I paint my dream." 

- Vincent Van Gogh

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The End of My Pirate Days

The End of My Pirate Days

Oil on black canvas, 36x48

Please click here to email me for price and availability

Click here for the lyrics to the Mary Chapin Carpenter song I used as the title for this painting

Under a brutal, blazing Omaha sun, 97 degrees and feeling like 107, I learned that my dear old Smokey would be gone by the time I arrived home. Smokey was at least 14, and a recent vet visit had shown a mass in his rectum. He stopped eating while I was away, and Peter said Smokey went downhill quickly. 

He was a wonderful, noble, silly dog. He looked like a bear, and had a ferocious bark, but was as sweet as a dog can be. Peter found him in a shelter while we were living in New York state, and while Smokey hadn't responded to any men while he'd been at the shelter, he took to Peter right away. I drove up to get him, and when I got him home, I opened the door of our station wagon and Smokey slipped his collar and took off, bounding through the melting March snow. 

I chased him - the wrong thing to do, I now realize - and Smokey fell in the rushing, icy Neversink River, racing shoulder-high behind our house. I went in, trying to get him, but the river was too strong, too cold, and I hauled myself out, wailing, sure that our new dog was drowned, and it was my fault. I was weeping when Peter caught up with me, and pointed to a tiny island across the river. 

Wet and bedraggled and certainly freezing cold, Smokey had made it to the island and was standing there, looking terrified forlorn and anything but fierce. 

I jumped in the car and took off. A Folun Gong group owned thousands of acres across the river from us. At their large, gold gates, I spoke into a speaker and somehow made myself understood. They let me in, and guided me to the island where Smokey was waiting, and I got him into the car and bundled him up and brought him home. 

Smokey had no idea how to play. He'd spent his life chained outside a house, with his brother, with whom he fought constantly. He knew nothing. But Jojo took one look at him, decided he was her best friend, and set about teaching him how to play. With his chow-stiff back legs and slight lack of coordination, Smokey was never the play-maven that Jojo was, but he learned, and they had fun and stayed the best of friends. 

Smokey used to sleep on our bed when it was lower, and he was more agile. When we moved to Wachapreague, he stationed himself in the doorway to our bedroom every night. I always thought he was protecting us, his humans, but when Jojo died, Smokey stopped sleeping there. All this time, he'd been protecting her. 

For weeks after she died, he'd stare at me whenever I came home, and he'd have a quizzical, hopeful expression on his face. Had I found Jojo? Had I brought her back to him? For the rest of his life, I believe, he looked for her. 

And now, he's found her. I think of them together, at the Rainbow Bridge, romping and frolicking, side by side, happy together, waiting for Peter and me.

***

Happy Buyers in Omaha

In spite of the brutal heat, I had a pretty good show in Omaha, in terms of sales. In terms of seeing friends and meeting people, it was a great show. Here are some happy buyers with their paintings. 

***

Friends, Too

And here are some pix of friends I got to see, and spend some time with, at the show

 

Fran and Doug took me out to dinner, above. 

Karen and Sherry took me out to breakfast, below. 

Below, Taylor and her fiance visited; she fell in love with my paintings last year, and has been a big fan and supporter ever since.

Friends of my friend Manja Yirka visited, too, below!  

My big hat was a big help... And below, a beautiful dragonfly spent hours and hours on a Pony Express painting, then more hours just hanging out on the wall of my tent. 

Above, he bought a painting, but only after spending a lot of time looking and considering. This buyer's care for an interest in my paintings really moved me. At one point, he turned around and said to me, "There's no one like you. No one paints like you." That meant a lot. 

***

Dog of the Day 

It's Smokey, of course. Above, the puppies adored him from the moment they met him. In the bottom photo, Koko also loved Smokey. That big, slow-moving dog, that thick, soft coat, his chow patience and shar-pei looseness, all conspired to make him loving and truly lovable.  

***

A Final Thought

"Any fool can be happy. It takes a (person) with real heart

 to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep." 

- Clive Barker

Two Sides of the Road

I find myself in a time of transition, in life and in my painting, and I welcome it. 

The deaths of Jojo and Zoe in September truly rocked me.

I miss Zoe, and don't want anyone to feel that she was a lesser dog, or that her death didn't touch me. She'd lived with us for 15 years, at least, and she was a good dog. I loved her, and I miss her.

But it was the death of Jojo that cracked my heart. Through that crack, now that Koko has come home, light is shining on new things, new ideas, new approaches.
  

I've decided that I must be bolder. Bolder in my life, in my decisions, in my choice - and maybe most of all, in my painting. 

I made the two paintings on the left on subsequent days. They are paintings of an autumn scene, in a nothing place, just on the side of the road somewhere in North Carolina. 

There's nothing wrong with the first one - except that it's not how I want to paint now. 

Instead of painting the scene, I want to paint truly the feeling. I don't want to make 20 marks if one will do. I want to paint the pulsing autumn colors, the way the light bounces off the trees and falls deep and blue into the shadows. I want to paint the feeling that this is the last gasp of summer, the final, glowing moments of the sunshine and warmth of summer. I want you to reverberate with the feeling, break into the smile, gasp at the beauty of nature, rather than see a nice painting of autumn trees. 

It's hard to do this - especially since I like the first painting! It's a good painting, and it would look fantastic on someone's wall! 

***

IF YOU WANT to buy either painting, they're available for five days at a 25 percent discount from their regular $385 price - the Fast Nickel price, which is good through 11/15/15, is $288.75. And this time, I will pick up the shipping. 

You can find the Fast Nickel page of the Jacobson Arts website by clicking here.  Or go to Jacobson Arts (www.jacobson-arts.com), and look for the Fast Nickel page. 

Maybe this will even teach me how to spell "nickel." 

***

Dog of the Day

Christine Stark, who fostered Abby and Koko, is now fostering six puppies. They're pretty adorable! If you're looking to adopt a pup, send me an email and I'll get you in touch with Christine. She lives near Asheville, NC, so it's a ways from most folks - but it would be a worthwhile trip, and a fun one, too. I promise!

***

A Final Thought

"Painting is just another way of keeping a diary."

- Pablo Picasso

Chaim's First House

Chaim's First House

Oil on black canvas, 20x20

Please click here to contact me for price and availability

Well, I drove all the way out to Texas only to run into weather that canceled the first of my three planned shows, and is now making the second look very iffy. After spending several days feeling at sixes and sevens, frustrated and rudderless and indecisive, I've canceled my other two shows, and I'm going home. 

On the way, I'm going to stop in North Carolina. Of course, I am picking up Koko. I'm also going to scout some galleries in Asheville, and see if any will represent me. If any of you have ideas of Asheville galleries that would like my art, please let me know! 

I had a good, good summer of shows with nice sales, great people and drives through beautiful countryside. It was a tiring summer, too, traveling and setting up and doing shows in the blazing heat. The deaths of Jojo and Zoe took it out of me as well. 

This decision, reached with much difficulty, feels right to me. Finally. 

***

On the Way

Really, truly, yes, these are signs I saw on the drive out here. I think it might be great to live in Bat Cave, but I'd never ever want to live in Chunky! Would you? 

***

Dog of the Day

Of course, it's little Koko. She's spayed now, and vaccinated and microchipped, 

and in a few days, she will be coming home with me. Yay! 

***

A Final Thought

"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, 

and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen." 

- Leonardo da Vinci

A Prayer for Zoe

A Prayer for Zoe

Oil on black canvas, 30x30

Please click here to email me for price and availability

I'm finding it difficult to shrug off my sadness at the deaths, within three weeks of each other, of Jojo and Zoe.

Inside, my lights have gone gray. A scattered, broken concentration has replaced focus. Drive comes in spurts, and countless times in these weeks I have grabbed hold and thought I could jump on, only to find myself wandering and lost again.

These girls were family, Zoe a vigilant guard in spite of her blindness, living a life so structured you'd swear she could tell time. Jojo kept me company, filled me with her endless enthusiasm, made me laugh a dozen times a day.

In the early mornings, I wake and listen for the click of Zoe's nails on the wood floor. Every time I go to the studio, I turn and look for Joey, standing expectant and excited in the back hall, waiting for an invitation.

Coming home from Dayton, it was crushing to not be greeted by Jojo, racing and leaping, beside herself with excitement that I was home again.

Peter has been sweet with me, my friends and family have been supportive and I appreciate all of it and all of you. I am trying to heal, trying to rise. But my heart is howling.

***

A Final Thought

"When the Man waked up he said, 'What is Wild Dog doing here?' And the Woman said, 'His name is not Wild Dog any more, but the First Friend, because he will be our friend for always and always and always.'"

- Rudyard Kipling

That Old Barn, and Thoughts on Abstraction

That Old Barn

Oil on canvas, 16x16

sold

During the summer, I ran out of paintings between shows in the Midwest. I'd thought (I'd hoped) this might happen, and I'd known I would have some time, so I brought canvases and paint with me, and as I drove, I looked - as I always do - for landscapes that touched my soul. 

I found this one in Iowa. I could see it from the highway, but it took some figuring to find it. Lots of times, I see a beautiful scene from the highway, but when I go looking for it, it turns out to be the back field of a farm, private and unreachable. 

This was a hot July day, with a little wind, and high, thin clouds. No one drove by during the hours that I pained. The barn was old and rickety, full of holes that the sun shone through. I really liked he couple that bought this painting - and the very first 10x10 in the 100 Cubed project! They live in West Virginia, have a cool dog, and loved my paintings. 

 ***

Abstract paintings are making their presence felt in my life. Peter has been making abstract paintings on the computer, my friend and collector Kathryn has been experimenting, and I've become friends with a lovely Connecticut woman who makes lots of abstract paintings, too.

I have made a few abstract paintings, and I am interested in them. A few days ago, I had the beginning of what might be understanding.

It occurred to me that a good representational painting shows the outsides of things, and implies or hints at the insides. By "insides," I mean structure, or architecture, or even soul.

A good abstract painting, I think, shows the insides of things - and implies the outsides.

A bad representational painting fails to contain any thought of the insides, and a bad abstract painting fails to contain any though of the outsides.

Does this make sense to anyone?

***

Dog of the Day

Met this dog at the show in Ann Arbor. She was a great old girl! 

***

A Final Thought

"To practice any art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow. So do it." 

- Kurt Vonnegut

Peter, Paul and Mary

Peter, Paul and Mary

Oil on canvas, 36x60

sold

So much of what I learn, I learn by accident. In one cowscape, I made the cows larger than I usually do. I needed the painting to be done quickly so it could dry, so I could get it to a show - and so I made the cows bigger. When the painting was done, it was clear to me that the large images had more punch, more power than the smaller ones. This now seems like a no-brainer, but for me it was a discovery. More cow, less landscape - better, stronger painting. 

"Peter, Paul and Mary" contains my biggest cows to date, and I really like it. What do you think? Are the cows too big? Would you like to see them bigger? Smaller? It's always great to hear your opinions and ideas. 

***

TWO WEEKENDS, TWO SHOWS! Come to the Mystic Outdoor Art Festival, this weekend in Mystic, CT. I'll be at the corner of Willow and Main, across from the post office! Or come to SoNo Arts, in South Norwalk, Aug. 15-16. Don't know where I'll be yet, but I'll post my location here on the blog. Both shows are 10-6 on Saturday and 10-5 on Sunday. I'd love to see you! 

***

Summer on a Plate

Tomatoes from the stand at Occohannock Road in Exmore, and cucumbers from my friend Pat's garden started this salad, along with leaves of Thai basil from our now-deceased plant... a little sugar, oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Let it sit for an hour or so, if you can. Yum! 

***

Dog of the Day

Saw this guy at Jerry's Artarama in Virginia Beach. He was a youngster, with a pretty strong streak of assertiveness. 

***

A Final Thought 

"Love always brings difficulties, that is true, but the good side of it is that it gives energy." 

- Vincent Van Gogh

A Small Piece of Land

A Small Piece of Land

Oil on canvas, 16x16

Please email me for price and shipping information

In the dawn light, the raucous birds sing of spring and morning and light the back yard with color and movement. The night hangs on into the day's early warmth, coolness reaching from the still-cold Atlantic up into our sunny morning yard. Above, the sky arcs with orange and pink and yellow, dawn crackling with announcement and a bright and shiny promise. 

Here Wachapreague, the lawns are growing fast, the grass thick and shiny emerald, wet with dew each day. Azaleas and camellias streak our town with color, offset by candy tuft and tulips and the waning daffodils. 

Spring was once my least favorite season. Now, I feel it is the princess, and I am a rapt admirer.

***

TODAY AND SUNDAY, if you're in or around Virginia, why not come to Arts in the Park in Richmond? It's a big show, and promises to be fun. It's today and Sunday, 11-6 and 11-5 respectively. I'll be in Booth No. 90... Cynthia Battista, an excellent jeweler, will be in Booth No. 333; Alison Thomas, a wonderful photographer, will be in Booth 81. We'd all love to see you!  For more info, click here. 

***

Dog of the Day

This cutie came into the booth at the Arlington show. She is a sweet dog, who has Addison's disease. Her human says treatment is going very well for the tiny girl (she weighs 6 lbs), and that she's living a good, full life.

Want your pet to be the Dog of the Day? Send a jpg to me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

***

A final thought

"The greatest fine art of the future will be the making 

of a comfortable living from a small piece of land."

- Abraham Lincoln

Opal Dawn

Oil on canvas, 20x60

At J. Gallery of Fine Art, High Point, NC

I am more tired than I should be, I think, and then I start to look at what I've been doing this summer, and it does make sense, my exhaustion. The show in Montauk pretty much finished me off. It was an OK show, and I met some lovely people, but it was a slow show in terms of sales, and the driving and heat and ferrying just wore me out. 

So I am taking it easy, and am probably going to back out of the show this weekend in Pittsburgh. I think that's OK. It means losing my booth fee, but I have commissions to paint and an exciting new series of paintings to start, and I think it's the right thing to do. 

Of course, I've changed my mind a dozen times so far, and could again. 

***

MANY OF YOU have told me that you really like watching paintings develop, so I shot a series of photos of "Opal Dawn." 

I was painting from a photo that a friend sent me, and I started by gessoing a 20x60 canvas black, and putting in the horizon line. 

My original idea was to leave the tree line and its reflection unpainted - just black - but the painting got messy enough that I had to paint those trees in. 

I did make one major change after this last photo, and that was to paint the water with a vertical stroke. Here, in this photo, I've painted the water with an angled stroke. But it's best when the body of the water is vertical, and the ripples cross those vertical strokes.

***

Dog of the Day

It's little Zoe, crashing out in her little bed. Zoe is... well, we don't know how old she is. She is blind, and smart and very tough. In fact, I think she's the top dog in the house, though Peter disagrees. It was always interesting to watch the two blind dogs, Sam and Zoe, make their way through life. You could move a piece of furniture and Zoe would have the new placement memorized in an instant. Dear old Sam would run into it over and over and over. And over. 

Thank you all for your notes and condolences about Sam. Your kind thoughts truly help.