Up here in northern New England (particularly in Vermont), where winter snow can start in the Fall and continue into the Spring, many homes have tin roofs, which allows snow to slide off, and are sturdier in high winds, which can flick off traditional roofing shingles pretty easily. I’ve always loved this roofing material, as in the right light, the sun reflects giving the roof a soft pastel blue, green, or yellowish tint. The farm across the street uses tin, and it’s roof has been each of these colors, depending on the time of day, light, and atmosphere. “Tin Roof” 20 x 20 o/c
Recently completed a piece depicting this same setting. That larger piece now resides at its owners home in Maryland, but the composition was interesting, with the cluster of structures casting long shadows from a low western sun. This version of that setting is equally focused on that great light of late in the day. “Westward Sun” 36 x 36 o/c.
Living in a disposable world, where everything has an expiration date, and shelf life, I appreciate things that are well made and last a while. One of the aspects of rural structures…barns, old sheds, old homes, is that they were built to last. When I come across old barns in the countryside, many worn out and tired, they have a sense of craftsmanship about them…a quality in how they were built that has them still standing for decades, and even centuries. This one was in a small town up north, Canterbury, New Hampshire, and had been well maintained, over the years, and more so recently, and dated back to the early 1800s. But even if it had been neglected, like so many are, it’s likely it would still have been there, standing strong. “Longstanding” 24 x 24 o/c
White Pines are likely the most abundant tree here in New Hampshire. If you leave a pasture or meadow unmowed, it’s inevitable white pine saplings will sprout up in a season or two. Over the years, pine forests have grown from what had been cleared, worked farmland. Stone walls deep in dense woods and forests are the only reminders of how most of the state had been cleared for farming. They’re the kind of tree you can love and hate simultaneously. When they’re where they belong, they can be beautiful. When they sprout up where they shouldn’t be, they’re invasive and ugly. This stand of mature trees creates an interesting weaved pattern behind a local barn, and gives them the sense of being where they belong. “Pineridge” 30 x 24
I recently had a friendly debate over what was better…lakes or oceans. We have no shortage of lakes up here in New Hampshire, and they’re beautiful and, in some cases, world famous. But I’m an ocean guy. Love the “salt life”. No doubt that ocean winds and crashing waves are contrasted by the relative calmness of a lake. We agreed to disagree on which we preferred, but did agree that despite our preferences, both are beautiful. “Dream Lake” 36 x 36
This farm is about a mile or two from home. As with many parts of our town, which was once all farmland (what town wasn’t, at some point?), and is now broken into many smaller lots, many of which preserve the rural character of the many decades ago. I pass this place daily, and only recently saw it lit in such a way, with the out-of-composition treeline to the right casting a long shadow across the warm meadow grass. “Summer Meadow” 20 x 16 o/c
I recently learned that the beautiful Burning Bush shrub is on the “prohibited species” list here in New Hampshire. We have two on our property, bought and planted before this species became an outlaw. This one is growing freely in front of an old barn I came across in the Berkshires region of Western Massachusetts, where the plant is also an unlawful menace. Despite their supposedly invasive nature, the two I have have remained only two for the past 20 years…and in the fall, they’re the most powerfully colorful part of the yard. “Burning Bush” 20 x 20.
This farm complex up in New London, NH (the Lake Sunapee region of the state), struck me as similar, in ways, to Stonehenge in the way the buildings cast long shadows in the late-day sun. Like that giant stone landmark, the angles of shadows are cast differently as days, months, and seasons progress. “Sundial” 48 x 36 o/c
How long it takes to complete a painting is an often-asked question. Time to complete varies from piece to piece. In some, the stars align and the piece seems to be “done” fairly quickly. Others are a bit more of a struggle. Some take forever. This piece, for instance, took 10 years to complete. That’s a long time for a small piece. It was done fairly quickly–too quickly–10 years ago. It’s been around the studio most of that time, with brief stints at this gallery or that. Recently realized the piece was never finished. It was pale, washed out, and void of color, so I put it back on the easel, and finished what I started, a decade ago. “Treeline” 24 x 12 o/c
The summer homes along the shores of the Cape and Islands sit, in many cases, just a few feet above sea level, just beyond the high tide line. In some parts of these shorelines, erosion brings these structures even closer to the sea. There are many homes in Chatham, and other parts of the Cape and coastlines south of Boston, that have lost the battle and have been taken by the sea. There’s an undeniable beauty to an oceanfront home, but there’s also an undeniable risk. “Island’s Edge” 48 x 48
