This summer’s joy is that the hermit thrushes have returned. They disappeared two years ago, when some logging and construction projects (wind turbines) began in our valley. I missed their gentle, flute-like music in the early morning and at twilight. But they are back! The deer have returned, also, and the owls. And we have added a whip-poor-will for the first time, who sings his song at midnight on moonlit nights.
Another joy of this summer is that the Canada lilies bloomed in my yard again. I had seven plants in the back yard and one in the front this year, with up to ten blossoms on each plant. They are still my favorite summer wildflower. Here is a photo I took of one of the fairy carousels.
And a third joy of the past two months, as well as a source of great frustration, has been working on the bloodroot painting. There is paint on the canvas now, but it is being a long slow, process. Henry Ward Beecher said, “Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures” (Proverbs from Plymouth Pulpit, 1887). If so, I am not sure what this painting says about me. I don’t know how to describe what is going on inside, where the pictures come from. Let’s just say that this one is coming from deeper than usual and it is taking some effort to bring it to daylight. Here you can see it as it sits on the easel today in my studio.
Part of the slowness of the process has been a result of dealing with issues concerning tools and materials. My minuscule Kolinsky sable 000 brush has been my best friend for years. But to cover a three foot by five foot canvas takes BIG brushes, and the ones I ordered stayed stubbornly backordered for several weeks.
I had issues with the stiffness of some of the paints in my palette of Artisan water-mixable oils, too. I did not find it a problem when I was doing the miniature paintings, but the drag on the brush was too great when I used the bigger brushes. Trying to get advice from the manufacturer proved fruitless. But a thorough internet search turned up the information that I was not the only one to have problems with that. And I finally discovered that the manufacturer had come out with a new product for us, a water-based thinner that works better than plain water. (The bottle of it that I bought just arrived today.)
I can see in my mind’s eye what I want the painting surface to look like. I am looking for a texture at about the midway point between glassy smoothness and the kind of rough impasto on which you can strike a match. There are sections of Monet’s water lily paintings that have haunted me for years, and bits of his other works, like the white steam in his Gare Sainte-Lazare (which you can see at http://www.monetpainting.net/paintings/stlazareb.php?search_by=Paris) or the water in Antibes (http://www.monetpainting.net/paintings/antibes_x.php?search_by=all). The complex layering of color, the brokenness of the surface that allows earlier paintbrush strokes to show—these are things that I can “see” but not do. Yet.
I have realized that when I am painting I want a slow, searching method like I use when I am drawing, putting down one layer after another. I am not a bravura painter who dazzles the viewer with a bold display of brushwork. I want the image to emerge gradually from the canvas. Stay tuned to watch it develop!
I have had work showing around the state this summer, as well as with Pennacook Art Center in our local gallery. I had paintings in Waterville at the inaugural show for the Common Street Arts this past month, and I am taking art to Andover, ME for the annual art show again this weekend.
Thanks for joining me in the journey. I hope that you enjoy looking at the art as much as I have enjoyed making it! I would love to hear from you, too, so please do reply with comments.