March Marsh

 oil on panel  9" x 13"

March Marsh, March Marsh, bet you can't say that ten times fast.  

There is a wonderful book in a series, "Monet By Himself". Its a compilation of his letters and selections of his paintings and at least half of the letters deal with his difficulties with the weather and how it affects his work. This Spring's weather has brought me to understand these difficulties more deeply. The weather has been much colder than normal and it seems every day begins overcast and clears and clouds over again. Don't get me wrong, it is my joy to paint out in the field - but this spring is testing me. Then a day comes and you get a good light and no wind and things are looking terrific -  and every where I go is posted 'no tresspassing' or with stone walls right up on the on the roadside so that no one could stand there and no place triggers a compelling visual moment and my doubts creep in as I push my truck around these dirt roads aimlessly.    And then a discovery.   A place that is a frayed edge, a place no one cares for enough to post or wall in and the light and space is magic once more, even with the steady noise of traffic nearby or the pink flags marking the land for the coming bulldozers. For a compressed moment all is visual exploration and the struggle to find and process understanding and form.
The joy is returned. 

Early Spring Cedar

        oil on panel  7 1/2" x 11"

I have rigged up a backpack with my new small paint box and brushes and everything else I might need, so I might hike in to places where my pick-up truck won't or can't go. So this is a first - this painting was made just a short hike down our dirt road to a little section of a farm that borders a tangle of undergrowth and wild cherry, oak, and maple trees. The cedars scattered along the fence line are deep green against the red and gray and tans of the just starting to bud woods. I carried my whole kit in my pack and it worked out nicely - the little 9" x 12" Guerilla Paintbox performed well.  Can't wait to hit the trails along the Blue Ridge Mountains with my new set-up.

Fence Line, March 22

March Fence Line

 oil on panel  7" x 10"

Just an overgrown fence line at the edge of the woods on the first day of spring. The rain was approaching and the trees in the background were beginning to show signs of budding. I'm pretty sure the vines on the fence greened up during the time it took to make the painting.

Early Spring Sunset

 

Early Spring Sunset

 oil on panel 6" x 8"

A fallow field just beginning to show some green and the rain storm starting to be pushed off by a brisk northwest wind - all these elements conspired to give me a brief chance at bringing the space and structure within my grasp. The wondrous thing about such an image is that it requires absolute speed and focus without any of the devilish analysis that can paralyze.  These kinds of paintings must be a leap of faith, just trust your instincts and go for it. 

Wood Pile

Wood Pile

 oil on panel  8" x 11"

The hard slanted light of early March falling across the sections of a downed tree - a jumbled line of shadow and light that seems to catch the essence of this day. Spring is coming despite a call for snow this coming Monday - we're hoping for the crocus to show any time now.

Early March Oak

  oil on panel  6" x 8"

One of the ten 150 year old oaks that surround our place - all of them are a source of visual incident on any given day, in any possible light.  As distinctive and majestic as they are, when I look at the drawings and paintings I've based on them, the work seems to reflect my mood and situation more than the 'thingness' of the subject. This is how it ought to work.

Far End of the Lake

  oil on panel  7" x 15"

This one was done yesterday from a charcoal sketch done up on Lake Pocomoonshine in Princeton, Maine. While sticking to the veracity of the sketch, it doesn't fill in every detail - and that is a good thing. Interesting to note here that Degas believed one should work from memory (after careful study of subject) - he thought that when working from a well prepared memory of a subject - all the peripheral material was discarded and only the essence of the subject remained.
I find it is certainly easier said than done - but still doable. 

Last Light, February 27th

  oil on panel  6" x 8"

A painter I've admired for years once told me something that has stayed with me for sixteen or seventeen years. I happened to meet Eugene Leake one Saturday morning at the Grimaldis Gallery in Baltimore. I had come up to see his paintings in a one man exhibit at the gallery when he came in - I introduced myself and he talked to me about his work  - he said he had come that morning to look at the paintings, after all the  pressure and hoopla about getting everything ready and hung and theopening and such - he had come that quiet morning to see his work and rediscover who he was, so he could get back to work. 

      This past Sunday dawned clear and promised to warm up into the mid forties - the first good painting day in months. I paced and worried and wondered where and what I could go and paint - I was at a loss and I knew I didn't want to waste the day.  I needed some way to get going, get back to work. It finally dawned on me - what I often did when I was stuck and uncertain (every year at this time) I went out front of the studio and house and looked up into the 200 year old oaks that surround our place. There it all was - form, space, color, shadow and light - the things painting has to be about before it is about any subject. as I became lost in the moment and place and the struggle to get a handle on those vital elements I realized all that I was doing was rediscovering who I was - what I loved - so I can get back to work. 

Top of The Cliff

  oil on panel 8" x 10"

If one is trapped long enough indoors with only indoors things to paint, sooner or later one will resort to imagery drawn from sketches, old paintings of lesser success, or even successful ones of a different size. Thus a rocky promentory somewhere in Vermont, with high summer foliage and sunny summer skies, comes to life in the wintry studio (we had some more snow last night). 

One clings to sanity any way possible.

Bag 2

  oil on panel  10" x 14"

Well the death rattle has passed off me and I am able to stand upright for more than a half hour without exhaustion. So over to the studio and back to my Giant Food giant leaf bag. I layed it down and went into battle - keep it simple; allow seeing to take over; find value structure and form - who would think one could spend a joyous afternoon with a paper bag? 

Pasture Creek

  oil on canvas  28" x 40"

This one just went up in the George Washington University Alumni Exhibit at the Virginia Campus. A little taste of high summer in the midst of the melting ice and mud of late February. I have slowed to a standstill this week, afflicted with a monster cold and feeling punky. It is seeming to lift now and the weather man is dangling better weather in front of me like a leather chew before Angel, the wonder dog. (She's a wonder because we puzzle over what she thinks and does) Back to the hot tea and tissues and hopefully, fresh work for next week.

Brown Paper Leaf Bag

  oil on panel  11" x 14"

There are former students who, during their time in my class, have been traumatized by this sort of bag. As I ignored cries for mercy begging to have bags set before them no more, I assured them that 'a lifetime's joyful work' might be found in bags such as this. The form, the varied surfaces, the opportunity for color exploration within the neutral brown, ... one could go on. They didn't believe me so, thus is launched a series of bag works. I'll show them!    Tomorrow, multiple bags.