The Studio, Now...

My studio is a "work in progress", as they say. Packed my last studio into boxes and loaded them onto a truck in the Autumn of 2002. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I'd still be visiting those boxes in the storage locker nine years later. Being a creative person I've come up with temporary solutions, like sketch books that I can drag around, switching to a more portable media and plein air painting. I attend workshops to sharpen my skills, but mostly I dream .... of when or if the studio gets finished. I have drawn sketches of where the drawing board will go and the desk. I can see this room in my mind's eye and where every last brush will be. It will be the best studio space I will ever have had. It's on the second floor of the house and stretches along then entire north side. The main space is about 240 square feet with three sky lights and we installed French doors which open onto an exterior deck that looks out into the woods. Now that it's Spring, we hope, soon, to install the spiral stairs down to the garden below. Since this was once the Master Bedroom, there was a large walk in closet. It now has a stainless steel hand sink, counter and we're building in cubbies and shelves next. As you can see I've been bringing home this and that from storage and it's all stacking up. The only painting going on in the studio is the ceiling and walls, but I do have walls,...and a floor! I'm still dangling off the edge of the kitchen table or using the steering wheel for my sketch book. Yet do I dream.

The Studio, Then...

Winter's Rest

For so many years, I lived and worked in a major city. I spent a good deal of time negotiating expressways. One wintery evening I was weaving through urban traffic while listening to the Fine Arts station. An author was being interviewed. She had recently published a volume of poetry that praised the wisdom of the seasons. There was a question about Winter. She patiently explained that in the city, Winter is a hardship because we feel the need to keep to the same schedules and have the same expectations that we have the rest of the year. As often as not our experience and our expectations do not meet and we are disappointed. In the country however, there is this pause. You might call it a seasonal palette cleanser. Winter is a silent, peaceful time when the land rests. The beasts rest, and so too does man.

It would be years before I packed up my urban studio and moved to the country, but since that very first Winter I knew she had been right. There are no more salty curbside puddles of gray slush in my world. I am surrounded by monochromatic splendor. I embrace Winter like a dear friend whose visit I have eagerly awaited. We sit together, close to the fire in the evenings, and take our rest.

The Christmas Card Project

Christmas is a time when a visual artist can easily run amuck. The average person will put up a tree, no easy task at that. Me, I put up eight this year. Didn't have enough to complete the concept so I quickly got three more. That's how the Christmas card project started. I heard of a woman who wrote her Christmas letter in rhyme a la "T'was The Night Before Christmas". Instead of being one of those holiday notes where people sing the praises of their adult children ad nauseam, hers were so entertaining that people saved them. Hmmm, wonder if I could do that ? And while I'm at it, I should use my own art work! Every year as I begin it's like crawling out onto a limb. All the time I'm thinking, can I do this? I drive around saying, "Tah dah-dah, teh dah-dah teh dah dah-dah, teh dah". Some years the rhyme comes first and I do illustrations to go with it. Other years, I have a painting and the story line is written to the image, like 2010. The year that seemed to entertain the relatives the most is when I waxed poetic about our Emergency Room visits during a home remodeling saga. It's the creative challenge, I think, that I find so much fun. And it's a whole lot less fattening than baking cookies.

Christmas 2010

In those days before Christmas when all through the house,
preparations and planning for glad tidings to announce.

When what above the fireplace should appear?
An empty space, which proved nothing to fear.

While others fruitcakes and cookies are making,
I decide instead it's time to be painting.

A red poinsettia I see that's giant in size.
All the better, my dear to dazzle one's eyes.

I will model my flower in the style of O'Keefe.
And the background, ... the background, it will be in gold leaf!

The glue nicely tacky would last all of an hour.
Enough gold leaf however, those chances were dower.

I know a supplier. The place isn't too far.
It was with this plan we raced for the car.

With Len as my wheel man, I was poised to jump.
At the red light I leaped landing with a thump.

This art supply store closes at precisely six o'clock,
and with no parking, Len was circling the block.

Then home again in but a flash,
gold leaf applied to finish the task.

Oh, and gives a glorious glow.
Twinkling like the new fallen snow,

to wish you a Christmas of good cheer,
and blessings throughout the coming year!

'Tis A Gift...

'Tis a gift to simple.
'Tis a gift to be free.
'Tis a gift to come down
where we ought to be.

And when we find ourselves
in the place just right,
'twill be in the valley of
love and delight.

Shaker Hymn 1848

The Place I Was Always Meant To Be

There is this saying that once you see the place you were always meant to be, you will recognize it. While it sounds ever so poetic, it seems awfully whimsical. Far too whimsical to be true. But that's just what happened to me about eight years ago. It was the season of the itchy foot. We had talked about downsizing and even looked around, but never found anything. On a particularly beautiful October day, I exited from the interstate onto an unknown country road three states from home. And there it was- the place I was always meant to be. And I recognized it by the open horizon and softly rolling hills. Every thing I was seeing couldn't have been more different than what I was used to as a city dweller. That year we would sell or give away half of what we owned. The rest we packed up and moved to just over an acre of old growth woods and a rather eccentric house. Every day has been better than the day before. These days the way home is down a country road.