My neighbor’s farm has been the subject of quite a few paintings. As a scene, it’s close to the studio…just across the sheep meadow that separates them from us, and therefore easy to visit at different times of day. I’ve walked the woods that line the bottom of the slope of their vast meadow, and from the woods, there is this great view, looking up hill. One early Spring morning, while walking the trail that skirts their property’s stone wall, I noticed the early morning light cast the shade in brilliant blue. The early Spring grass up where the light grazed the hilltop was minty yellow. Years later, I painted my memory of that light. “May Morning” 48 x 32
Like many young kids in elementary school, I like art classes more than any other. I had good art teachers, and some not-so-good. Those who were good, said the least. They let you create, and they encouraged you. And the really great ones let you experiment…even urged you to. I once spoke to an elementary school art class…cute 2nd and 3rd graders, who proudly showed me their work. I loved how many of them broke “rules” without knowing they were doing so. They had an idea, and they went for it. And their teacher (a good one) didn’t question their color choices (a black sky with a sun?). They were fortunate not to have been told that their color choices couldn’t exist in reality. I told them that as a kid, I had a couple teachers who made me afraid to paint skies any other color than blue (“that’s just how they are” she had said, all knowingly). If there actually are rules in art, I advocate breaking them all. “Mythic” 52 x 28
his was a fun commission, done for a new home being built in Stowe, VT. Buyer was flexible with palette, but did have an oriental rug that needed to be factored in, as the piece will be an equally prominent feature in the room. “Upcountry” 40 x 36
When I first saw this scene, it was that small outbuilding sitting in the shadow of the much larger barn that struck me as the subject. It had a sense of protectiveness to it, an almost parental feel. “Guardian” 28 x 18
My property is surrounded by stone walls. A couple acres of a centuries-old farm, with meadows once used as sheep pasture, was converted to a residence, but the stone walls that divided the fields remain. And one of those walls divides my property from my neighbor’s. These walls often remind me of that great Robert Frost poem, “Mending Wall” and the premise made in it that “good fences make good neighbors.” Many might agree with that, many might not…and I guess in some sense it depends on who your neighbor is. But in my case, my neighbors…who own and maintain this barn, are good people, and good neighbors. “Good Neighbor” 52 x 42
This old farm is a few miles from the house. It sits on the bend of the road that I drove daily to drop off or pick up the kids from school. I’ve painted it several times, maybe because I like the place and have seen it so many times…but also because it has become a landmark for the change of seasons. It’s surrounded by maples, and in the fall, it’s pretty much a blaze of autumn color, and in the Spring, the new buds and young leaves present that pale green haze of new foliage. It has become somewhat of a visual marker for the time of year in which winter turns to spring, and summer to fall, which coincide with the opening and closing of the school year. Now that the kids are older and launched, and the trips to school long in the past, I pass this place less often, and recently decided to paint it again, for old times sake. “Equinox” 36 x 36
A Vineyard friend recently told me the old farms on the Island are disappearing, as properties are purchased and the old buildings are replaced with new. Martha’s Vineyard still maintains one of the most rural landscapes in all Massachusetts, especially up Island. This place is actually down-Island, in Tisbury, and while once either a dairy or crop farm, now serves as home to a herd of alpacas.
I’ve painted this light before…both the lighthouse itself, and the light cast upon it. The New England coast is dotted with lighthouse, many working, others dormant. But whether they currently cast their beam out to sea, or simply reflect the light that hits them, they are stately icons of our eastern coasts. This one sits atop a bluff in East Chop, on Martha’s Vineyard. Last time I saw it, a couple years ago, it looked more rundown than it had when I lived on Island. Nonetheless, it still stands as sturdy is it always has, and is still a landmark to sailors visiting the Vineyard’s shores. “Harbor Light” 40 x 30.
I’m frequently asked how I choose my palette, subject matter and titling. Love the question, but struggle with the answer. It’s like being a writer, trying to answer how you choose the words you use, the settings you imagine, and the characters you develop. In that sense, my work is pure fiction. Based in reality, but reimagined along the way, to become something recognizable, but not real…and hopefully more interesting.
In this piece, the palette came along as it always does…by on-the-fly choices made with zero color theory in mind (I don’t like the concept of color theories). The scene was based on a real place, but modified to be what I wanted it to be. And the title comes from a marine park on Cape Cod I worked at as a dolphin trainer many years ago…whose name seemed to fit with the finished piece. All real, but all fiction. “Sealand” 16 x 20
When scouting inspiration in rural areas of New Hampshire and Vermont, I look for interesting scenes where architecture and landscape seem to coexist naturally. The barns, sheds and outbuildings built decades ago, now often abandoned, sit naturally where they have for years. They seem to be an almost organic part of the landscape, but have a definite presence that reinforces the sense that they are just temporary visitors. “Presence” 54 x 48
