Cape Charles Sunset

 Cape Charles Sunset / oil on black canvas / 11x14 / $250

sold

MY KOKO is staying with my friend Susan while I'm in Arizona, and Koko's absence has changed the dynamic of this house more that I ever thought it would. And it's changed my view of her, as well. 

Every morning, when she is here, she comes into the bedroom and greets me, wagging and curling her body around in a circle, so that her wagging tail is close to her nose. Often, she sniffs my butt with that always wet, always cold nose, then stations herself in front of me begging to be petted, blocking me step by step as I try to walk into the kitchen. 

When it's time for breakfast - and she knows the time with remarkable accuracy and certainty - she barks and barks and leaps into the air, spinning around in circles in her excitement. She gets the other dogs all riled up, too. I put down Woody's food first, then I get the Demons into their apartment and put down their food and shut their door, and at this, Koko jumps up, bonks me in the butt with her forepaws, and runs into the kitchen where she barks and spins around in circles before spending all of 8 or 9 seconds devouring her meal. 

Koko knows what time I should go to the studio, and if I seem to not be complying, stands in front of me and barks until I either shut her down or give in. When I pick up my phone , and unplug the computer to go to the studio, she barks wildly and leaps around. Then, outside, she finds a toy or a stick and comes charging at me in her play run, front legs stiff, shaking her head and murdering whatever she has between her mouth. 

At the end of the studio time, when I turn off the heater and the lights, she often jumps up on me (this is forbidden), begging for kisses, and then she barks and spins, so happy to be going inside. 

When I pull out the leashes for our walk, she barks and leaps and spins and stirs everyone up. We often meet Liesl, my walking partner, in the street, and I will drop Koko's leash when I see Liesl coming around the corner, and let Koko run down Bayview to greet Liesl. Koko races down the road, tail wagging, and jumps up on Liesl, kissing her and groaning at her, with funny little throaty groans. 

Whenever visitors come to the house, Koko adores them. She greets with barking, jumping delight, and climbs up in their laps, staying as long as they will allow her. In the evenings, Koko snuggles between my legs on the couch, demanding to be petted, often licking me until I have to yell at her to make her stop. And at the end of the day, she jumps up on the bed, snuggling - and then leaves to sleep in a chair in the living room. 

Her behavior and how I feel with her gone makes me think of my own self, and how Peter must have felt when I went away on trips. Koko is a lot to handle. I am a lot to handle. Koko is loud, enthusiastic, demanding. I am loud, enthusiastic, demanding. Annoying, even. But I miss her loud, irritating, annoying enthusiasm. The days without her have been less colorful, less fun, less full of life. I am pretty sure this is how Peter felt. On one hand, it was good to get a break from me. On the other hand, life was less interesting without me here. 

Until Koko went to stay with Susan, I did not know that Koko was the enthusiasm leader of the pack. I didn't realize how much energy she has, how much delight she pumps into the days. I did not realize that it was her, more than any of the others, who required me to keep living after Peter died. I just didn't know. And while I'm sure I will be irritated with her from time to time when she comes back, I know from now on, I will go far out of my way to adore her, to honor the blessing that she is in my life. 

Above, Koko and Lulu, when Lulu was a puppy

Koko waiting to see Liesl

She wanted that cookie so much, I eventually gave it to her.

***

Coda

Every Dog's Story

I have a bed, my very own.

It's just my size.

And sometimes I like to sleep alone

with dreams inside my eyes. 

But sometimes dreams are dark and wild and creepy

and I wake and am afraid, though I don't know why.

But I'm no longer sleepy

and too slowly the hours go by. 

So I climb on the bed where the light of the moon

is shining on your face

and I know it will be morning soon. 

Everybody needs a safe place.

- Mary Oliver

The Marsh in Spring

The Marsh in Spring / Oil on black canvas/ 11x14/ $250 plus shipping

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

IN PART OF "THE ROAD IN," yesterday's entry here on the blog, I found myself using long strokes, full of paint, rather than the short, choppy, juddering strokes I usually use - and it felt like a new world was opening up for me. 

I think that the more kinds of strokes I master and can use in any painting, the more colors I actually learn and know, the more potential my paintings have to be interesting, expressive, reflective.

 I've used long, swirly strokes in the skies for a while, but never, as far as I can remember, for the ground. Making the long strokes in the painting above felt like pulling back sheer curtains to see more clearly the window behind them. The view hasn't changed - it is just more clear. 

***

Coda

The Uses of Sorrow

Someone I loved once gave me 

a box full of darkness. 

It took me years to understand 

that this, too, was a gift." 

- Mary Oliver

 

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

Spring Fields

Spring Fields / Oil on canvas / 18x24 / $650 plus shipping

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

SO MUCH RAIN HAS FALLEN that now, even after a week of sun and wind, there are puddles in the fields, and in the lawns and throughout the low places in the woods. I love the way these bits of standing water pick up the colors of the sky, and put them where they should not be - a little bit of heaven in the middle of a field. 

I noticed the other day that around the puddles in some of the fields, grass or clover or whatever is planted there has started to green up, in a beautiful circle around the puddle. Water of life, certainly. 

I love painting fields, with the furrows leading somewhere - usually to a house or barn in the back of the field. But on a drive to Frederick, Maryland, this past weekend, I noticed fields with furrows leading off obliquely, and in patterns. 

Different, for me - and I like it. What do you think? 

***

Coda

"It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade." 

-  Charles Dickens, by way of my friend Lisa Zander

Spiral of Fall

Spiral of Fall

Oil on canvas, 10x10

sold

I still don't like how short these cold days are. And I don't like how cold these short days are, either.

This morning, it was 28 degrees - way chillier than the average temperature here in January. And yesterday, for a moment, it snowed. Well, there was snow in the air. Flakes, at least.

Here, in Wachapreague, the earliest sunset of the year comes at 4:44 p.m. We will hit that on Dec. 3, and will stick with that same sunset time through Dec. 11. Then, the sunset starts getting later again. So while Dec. 21 is the shortest day of the year, a later sunset is already well on its way by that date.

Want to check your sunset times? Click here to get to http://www.sunrisesunset.com/

***

THIS PAINTING is part of a project idea, an experiment that's taking me into new territory.

 "Colors of the Spirit," which I posted earlier in the month, is a sort of companion piece, another step in this project. Both are in unusual (for me) color palettes, and both have, to my eyes, an interesting autumnal sensibility, the dark days, the long nights, the thin November light.

"Colors of the Spirit" is up for auction on Daily Paintworks - you can reach the auction by clicking here. If you want both paintings, please drop me an email - carrieBjacobson@gmail.com - and we'll talk price and delivery and all that jazz.

***

Dog of the Day

A couple weeks ago, the Times Herald-Record, the newspaper that kicked me out of journalism, eliminated the jobs of yet another bunch of talented and experienced journalists. One of them is Mike Carey, who'd worked at the Record for decades. On a whim, I searched for Mike Carey on Facebook. I didn't find him (he is about the unlikeliest Facebook person alive), but I did find a bunch of interesting-looking Mike Careys, and one of them had this dog as his profile pic. Isn't this little guy adorable? 

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

Mt. Airy Farm - and a Funny Dog

Mt. Airy Farm

Oil on canvas, 10x10

sold

My first plein-air cowscape! 

Yes, it's little. 

Yes, the cow is sketchy. 

Yes, the buildings are a little tippy. 

All those things can be dealt with. The fact is, I saw the outdoor cows, I made a decision to paint at least one, and I did it! 

This has been a long-held fright for me, painting a cow (or horse) in plein air. Why? Because they move. (Or mooove, as my little mental word-gamer says). And it always scared me that I might start the painting, and the cow would move away, and then,,, what? 

And to that, I would say: What? So what? Why be scared? 

Well, if we knew why we were scared of dippy, dopey things, we probably wouldn't be scared. 

 Here's my painting in the landscape. Yes, I changed the color of the barn. As my friend and inspiration, Gene Bove, might say - What good is a barn if it's not red?

***
Dog of the Day

This time, it's a video! Click here to see the fabulous jumping farm dog of Monrovia, MD! 

Early Morning Farm - and a Birthday

 Early Morning Farm

Oil on canvas, 12x24

Please contact me for price and delivery options 

On Thursday, I turn 57. It’s not a monumental year, not a 40 or a 50 or a 65. It’s one of those strange ages – 32, 37, 43. Indeterminate. Unheralded. Not loaded with meaning.

At this edge of this unimportant age, I realize that I do not miss my youth.

I miss my young knees and my young skin. I miss the red hair that for so many years was the bane of my existence.

But the rest of it, I am glad to leave behind. The struggles to define what my heart wanted, and to show what my brain knew. The fight to get ahead, to climb, to earn praise and promotion.

These days, I realize more and more that I know less and less. I read things I wrote back then and wonder at what I knew – and what I was happy to imply that I knew. I think I was smarter then – and certainly, I was interested in seeming smarter.

These days,  I realize, I desire less and less. I buy clothes only when I need them. I rarely wear jewelry. For my birthday dinner, I’m hoping my husband will cook burgers and oven fries, and I’ll splurge with an extra slice of cheese.

I have no regrets, not really. I wish I had the money that I spent on clothes and jewelry and other fancy things – but that spending brought me many happy moments, and I don’t regret a second.

These days, these insignificant days in the middle of an insignificant decade, these days I’m happy to be doing the work of a lifetime, making art and selling it to people who are made happy by it.

I am happy with the today’s gifts: a gentle sunrise, a loving dog, a husband I adore, a family and friends who stand by my side, no matter what. 

I'm happy to live in a small house in a small town in a beautiful place, and to live a quiet little life, rich with faith and hope and the joy of making beautiful things.

Thank you, all of you who read my blog, and buy my paintings, and accompany me on this adventure. Thank you for enriching my life with your presence and support.