Indiana Revisited

Indiana Revisited

Oil on canvas, 8x24, $150

Here's how random these trips of mine have been. On my way home from Arizona in April,  in Indiana, I saw a sign for a town called Holland.

I have a friend (my fellow exhibitor at the show at the Lighthouse Gallery) named Carden Holland. I like her a lot, and so I thought I'd find something good to paint in a town that shared her name.

Sure enough, I did. Here's my original painting:

It was a warm day, and wildflowers were blooming on the edge of the drainage ditch. An old house perched at the top of a rise, beyond strips of yellow and brick flowers. To the west, a storm moved in, with rain visible, and thunder audible, far in the distance.

I've always liked this original painting, though I felt it never quite met its potential. So I hauled it out the other day and, using my palette knife, went over it again. Repainted it, pulling up some colors, pushing down others and generally increasing the width and breadth and depth of everything in the painting. It's something I've done a couple times before, and it's an interesting experiment. Plus, I ended up with a painting that I really love!

Thanks for reading.

Two by Two

Top: Two Sams

Bottom: Two Duffers

This is just an experiment. In both cases, I made two paintings of the same dog. In each pair, I made the one piece while thinking of the other, either planning it or remembering it.

So I might frame them together, that's what I've been thinking. The Good Sams would be 60x30; the Duffers, 48x24.

Many of you gave me very helpful feedback on the sunflower painting. So what do you think about this idea? I'd love to hear your comments.

Thanks!

Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Oil on canvas, 20x20, $150
sold

In the middle of February, when it seems that winter will never,  ever end, I love to buy flowers, especially sunflowers, which are insanely bright, ridiculously cheap and delightfully long-lasting. These flowers glowed, just glowed, as though the light were inside them.

The sunflowers finally died. But lo and behold, and in spite of the fact that it is snowing yet again, spring is coming. At 5:45 last night, there was still light in the sky. I've heard spring birds singing in the yard, and bluebirds have visited the feeders on their way somewhere.

I do love winter - and I love the snow. It just goes on too long!

I am not sure of the background of this painting. It is very bright. I might go over the pink with another color, or might just leave it. If you have ideas, I'd love to hear them.

Thanks for reading!

A Bend in the River

  

A Bend in the River

Oil on canvas, 12x48

sold

I painted this a week ago. I stood behind a Dumpster, using it as a windbreak, on the top of a high bank overlooking the Wallkill River. It was about 10 degrees, and the wind was blowing hard enough as it was, and harder off the top of the river, and I was as cold as a person can be and still be painting.

When I had enough on the canvas to understand where I was going, I had painted for more than an hour and could do nothing to get warm. I packed up and sat in the car for a while, with the heater on high, before heading off.

Last winter, I painted outdoors nearly every day. I was cold, but I was not this cold. I don't know what has changed. I guess that this winter, I am just wimpy.

This Wallkill flows north between two south-flowing rivers. Here, it curves and bends through the village of Montgomery, home of the Wallkill River School, where I'll be showing in March with Shawn Dell Joyce. I hope that those of you who are in New York can get to the show - in part to see this painting, because it is really quite spectacular, and try as I might, I can't get it to reproduce correctly on the computer. I will reshoot it again on a cloudy day and see if that does it - but for the time being, this is as close as I'm going to get.

Thank you for reading.

Drifting

The dogs burst out of the door and bounded out into the snow. They raced and ran and tackled each other. They rolled in the snow and wriggled on their backs, all four feet in the air. They barked and leapt and played and dug and ran in circles, gleeful, joyful!

And I'd been thinking more snow was a bad thing.

This painting is another step away from the one I made in the midst of a storm earlier in the week. When I stumble into more abstract landscapes, I realize again how much I love them. I'm making my way along the edge of abstraction, and enjoying balancing here.

Drifting

Oil on canvas, 12x12, $200

The Storm Lifts

The Storm Lifts

Oil on canvas, 24x24,

Call me at 860-442-0246 or email me

if you are interested in buying this painting

What great responses to my recent comments on success!

The encouragement I received from you, in the blog, via email, in person, was just spectacular. Thank you. I was not seeking encouragement, really - I was just talking, just sharing. But you were all so thoughtful and so kind. I am grateful.

It is heartening, too, to know that so many of you are asking the same questions in your own lives. Asking what "success" is, how you define and measure it and how your sense of it is changing.

One thing I've realized in the past few days - and honestly, have realized again and again during these years - is that I am living a life so rich, so full of purpose, so imbued with creativity that it simply does not include failure. Truly, I never dreamed that living could feel this wonderful.

I have time for the people who matter in my life. I have time to think, to talk, to love - and to paint. And all of it informs and enriches the rest of it. If I died tomorrow, I would die happy and fulfilled - and until I left the corporate world, I could never have said that.

So I am reinvigorated, and refreshed, and I am thankful.

Friends

Friends

Oil on canvas. Not for sale

My sister's dog, Mac, is an old, dear fellow. He seemed ancient when Laurie and her family adopted him, years and years ago, but he has lived on, in his creaky but surprisingly athletic way, all this time. He has run and walked with Laurie in the early mornings. He has played with three kids, guarded two houses, and eaten his way through a mountain of food intended - and not intended - for him.

Mac has had his troubles of late. He ate something horrible that nearly killed him around Thanksgiving. Now he has cancer. It looked like his time was up a week or so ago, but he rallied, and has been happy and wagging ever since.

After he ate whatever it was, and before he got cancer, the family took on a puppy. Mac didn't like the little guy at first, but over time, the two have become friends. The friendship blossomed more or less around a dog bed that Laurie got for Beemer, but which Mac took as his own.

I cried as I made this painting, cried for the sweet dog that Mac has been all these years, and for this last sweet act of sharing. I cried for all the dogs I've ever lost, and all the dogs I've ever welcomed into my life. I cried for the friendship and the love that our dogs give us - and which I wouldn't trade, for all the tears in all the world.