Daphne

Daphne

Oil on canvas, 12x12

Commission

It was warm enough today, and bug-free enough, that we left the back door open so the dogs could go in and out at will, for the first time in their lives.

Clearly, it was liberation for them, and they spent hours running in and out - just because they could. Then Smokey sat in the sun in the open doorway, while Jojo lay in the sun in the yard, and we all soaked it up like the miracle it was.

Earlier in the day, when the door had still been closed, I'd heard the dogs doing something, again and again, making some metal on metal noise. I looked out of the open door of the boat-garage studio where I was painting, and though I couldn't see what they were doing, I thought it might have something to do with the gates, and a potential escape, so I took them inside.

When I came back out, I heard the noise again, and realized where it was coming from - the rusty 40-foot-tall antenna that the previous owner installed, and which towers frighteningly over our house. It's footed in a block of cement, and probably is stable, but still, it looks terrible, and if it ever toppled, would cause all sorts of trouble.

The noise, I realized, was caused by a bird, probably a crow, tossing pecans down inside the antenna, probably in an effort to break them.

Or maybe, just maybe, he did it just because he could.

Autumn Comes to Burton's Bay

Autumn Comes to Burton's Bay

Oil on canvas, 10x10
sold

You people are so wonderful! So many of you have called, written and emailed me about my extended absence, your caring has made me feel loved and appreciated. Thank you so very much. 

For the past eon, or what feels like an eon, I have been mostly driving. The trip back from the disastrous, no-sales Florida shows took two days. I spent a day and a half here at home, then drove to Connecticut, and spent three days there driving all over the state, visiting family, collecting one show, dropping new paintings at Center Framing & Art in West Hartford Center, (go see them if you're in the area; they're really wonderful!), and stocking up on supplies. Then I spent one entire and expensive day getting new tires and new brakes on the van. 

Finally, happily, I am back on the Eastern Shore, and painting again. I'm working on some large commissions for mid-December delivery, and hoping to make time for some smaller paintings - and some projects. 

One of my projects is going to be a Christmas sale of paintings - an inventory blowout, if you will. It's time to start fresh, and so I'm going to offer some of my favorite paintings at very low prices. It's going to take me a few days to get this all together, so if you have favorites that you've been dying to buy but couldn't afford, please email me and we'll make it happen. 

So look for the sale next week, in plenty of time for Christmas! 

***

On another note, there's a serial arsonist operating out here on the Eastern Shore. He (or she) burned two buildings last night, for a total of 26, I believe, in about two weeks. Even though the arsonist is burning only empty and abandoned buildings, and even though there are lots of cops out here, it's still unsettling. 

When I was up in CT, there were no arsons down here, but there were two in Montville, and I did wonder if somehow, I was sleepwalking and setting these fires, and then remembering nothing. Peter says I'm not, though. So, whew! 

Afternoon Storm in the Keys

Afternoon Storm in the Keys

Oil on canvas, 10x20, $200

sold

What is it that drives us to continue, through storms, through rough seas, through struggles with fear and failure and doubts about the future?

For me, some days, it is as simple as the color of the sky at dawn. It is the first yellow leaves of autumn, the quiet of snow falling at night, the smell of dust in the early moments of a summer rain.

It is a warm dog close by my side, the spicy tang of marigolds, the scent of coffee brewing in a sunny kitchen.

Some days, what gets me through is a song I play again and again, or a quote I stumble over quite by chance, or the words of a friend, spoken in love or in comfort.

It is the thought of home, the memory of my mother, the sense of wonder and glory that I feel every single morning. What gets me through is love and faith and the knowledge that this day, this single dawning day, this day is the day that we have.

i'd love to know what gets you through the tough times. Please share, if you like, in the comments!

Everglades Sunrise

Everglades Sunrise

Oil on canvas, 10x10, $100

sold

This was my first Florida painting, and I confess, I am becoming fascinated with palm trees. Who knew there were so many different kinds?

Here are some other things I've noticed about Florida:

People do not get up early here, at least in the Keys. Restaurants don't open until 7 a.m. The laundromat doesn't open until 8.

There are no Wal-Marts the entire length of the Keys. Wow.

A waitress at a late-opening breakfast place told me that the stretch of Route 1 from the top of the Keys to the bottom is the most dangerous road in the U.S. In a day and a half, I saw two wrecks in which the car that was hit ended up on its roof.

Alligators are bigger and darker and more solidly malevolent than I'd ever imagined.

The Atlantic is a different color here. Many different colors, actually.

Key deer really ARE the size of a medium-sized dog.

Cuban coffee is so sweet it makes your teeth ache. The first taste, you think, yuck - but then you find yourself wanting a second taste - or at least I did!

Dawn in the Keys

Dawn in the Keys (in progress)

Oil on canvas, 24x48

Please click here to contact me for price and delivery information! 

I am not going to dwell on the fact that I sold no paintings at the show in Sarasota.

Instead, I'm giving a hearty thank you to all of you who have been buying paintings from me over the internet - and in real life. THANK YOU!

After Sarasota, I picked myself up, re-encouraged myself, looked away from self-doubt and from fear, and headed out to see and paint Florida.

I wanted to post my first Florida painting (a 10x10 I made in the Everglades,) but at this moment, I have good internet access and a lousy photo - so here's my second Florida painting. It's a plein air piece I did this morning, and I still have edges to finish and spots to tidy up.

I set up in the dark, and actually started painting in the dark. This was very interesting. I hesitated to begin, but plunged ahead anyways. It showed me how valuable it is to set up my palette the same way every time - and how valuable it is to really know how at least a few colors work.

I don't know all of them yet, but some of my favorites - indigo, Naples yellow, titanium white and Sevres blue, I do know. And I am close to knowing cadmium yellow.

Understanding how these colors work, in all situations, with all other colors, with all strokes and with all media helped me get far enough in the near-dark that by the time the sun came up, my painting was well on its way.

If you're in Boca Raton this weekend, come to Mizner Park Amphitheater for Art Fest Boca! Click here to find out more about the show. And wish me well, please! As my mother would have said, jingle your bells for me. I need all the help I can get.

Friday Sunrise

Friday Sunrise

Oil on canvas, 10x10, $100
sold

On Wednesday, I leave for Florida and shows in Sarasota and Boca Raton.

The Sarasota show is Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 10 and 11, in St. Armand's Circle, and you can read more about it by clicking here.  The show in Boca Raton, in Mizner Park Amphitheater, is Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 17 and 18, and you can read more about that show by clicking here. 

In this world of art fairs, Florida is somewhat of a holy grail. "Oh, you should go to Florida. Your stuff would sell great in Florida," is a reaction I've gotten again and again, along with "people in Florida have money, and they buy art."

I have also heard that people in New England have money, and they buy art; and people around Washington, DC, have money and they buy art; and people in New York City have money and they buy art... and it is all true.

But what's really more true, I think, and more at the heart of this truth, is that there are certain people who are destined to own certain paintings. Certain people who fall in love with certain paintings.

When this happens - and it does; I've seen it and it is magical - the person will buy the painting if it is at all within their financial grasp. If it's a person with money, she doesn't even ask the price.

If, on the other hand, it's not the right person for that painting, there is nothing I can do to make them buy it. I can offer a $400 painting at $25, and they will say they don't have any space on their walls.

As all of this unfolds in this new world of mine, I have to say that I am finding it absolutely fascinating. So we will see what Florida is like! I'll keep you posted.

Storm Before the Storm II

Storm Before the Storm II

Oil on canvas, 10x10

sold

I've been watching TV of the devastation in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut and Rhode Island, and have seen some photos of problems here in our area, and my heart goes out to the people affected. I remember clearly what it feels like to have nature destroy your stuff, your memories, your property. It's horrible. It changes everything.

Maybe, in the long run, it changes things for the better - but the people experiencing the disaster now can't begin to understand that.

In our lives, the flood that ruined our land in NY and took everything in our basement made us realize what's important.

The stuff is important, yes, but really, what is important is what it represents. Achievement, progress, goals reached. Memories. Moments. People you loved, people you miss, people you were.

Losing the stuff is heart-rending. It is. But you don't lose what the stuff represents. Losing the stuff brought the memories more sharply into focus. Made the achievements shine. No, I might never be able to replace that X - but I will never forget that I... earned the money to buy that X, or ran the race to win that X, or wrote the story or designed the page, or stood on that ski slope with my father, or, as a little girl, wore that pair of shoes.

It took a long, long time for us to recover from the flood that took our stuff, ruined our land, destroyed our driveway and made home feel dangerous. A long, long time. But in the end, I think, what nature took was ephemeral. What was left was what was important.