I was recounting a dream recently, and found myself (as we all do) recalling snippets of detail that were either related, or completely unrelated, to the core “feeling” of the dream. As you force the listener down that rabbit hole of patiently waiting for your dream to “get to the point”…you realize there isn’t a point…just a feeling (fear, happiness, anger, stress) illustrated with “things” that do nothing to help the dream have a storyline. But there is often something the dream is “about”…though, it’s nothing literal, and often not describable. My compositions are based on real places, but I only work from quick sketches done of them, and then paint with only the sketch as reference. This process eliminates the details of stuff that don’t add to the feeling of the piece. When it’s finished, it’s neither a real place, nor a fully imagined place. It’s somewhere in between…like dreams. “Dreamscape” 20 x 16 o/c.
This old farmhouse is about a mile from the studio. The road curves past it, and cuts through woods and meadows, as well as a few homes built in what was until a few years ago, forest. The owners of this farm own about 150 acres of beautiful hilly woodlands, bisected by a historically preserved dirt road that connects one end of town to the other. I recently learned that those 150 acres are to be developed into neighborhoods. I was informed of this by the owner of the mill I use to build my frames. I asked him what he thought the likelihood is that that development plan will go through. He replied, “that one may not go through, but there WILL be houses on that land someday.” Development is inevitable, unless land is bought for preservation, as other parcels in town have been. I balance wishing this type of land use wasn’t inevitable, with understanding it (my own house was built on an old sheep meadow of my neighbor’s farm.) “The Last Farm” 60 x 48 o/c
The light just after sunrise, especially along open shores and beaches, casts everything in warm and cool colors…warmth where the light hits, cool where it doesn’t. This cluster of cottages in Dennisport catches the morning sun, while the less illuminated beach reflects the ambient light, painting the sand between the tidelines in warm and cool shades of color. “Tidelines” 36 x 24
Cape Cod is home to trees of all kinds. Some are fairly exclusive to the Cape, others pretty common. One of those common trees is the pitch pine. Not a beautiful species, but so commonplace, they’ve become known as Cape Pines. Most are dwarfed by wind, lack of soil, and salt air, and their tufts of pine needles and cones wreak havoc with lawns. They’re as easy to mark for cutting in your yard, as they are tagged to stay. In the right place, they seem to be an important part of the landscape. This cluster is on the Outer Cape, in Truro. sits on a grassy hill overlooking Cape Cod Bay. “Pitch Pine” 30 x 40
I’ve made the observation before that light at higher elevations seems unique. Similar to the light along shorelines, it seems brighter, crisper and is likely due (in both cases) with the lack of trees and other natural and man-made things around to cast shadows and filter the light. This piece attempts to capture the light’s purity in such places. “Northern Highland” 70 x 34
There’s a section of the Cape, between Eastham and Wellfleet, where the sea creeps inland from the Bay, working its way along channels that cut through the boggy marshes. They’re remarkable creations, with the water carving out small islands of seagrass and marsh mud. This particular place is in Wellfleet, at the eastern end of Blackfish Creek. “Marshlands” 52 x 36
Coastal New England can be a rugged terrain, particularly the closer you are to shoreline unprotected by bays or harbors. The landscape is beautiful, but harsh…with constant wind, sun, salt air that tends to hold back anything that would otherwise want to grow. The plants that have adapted, and even thrive, in these areas tend to be scruffy, thorny and wild. But they’re also beautiful, particularly when in bloom. I found this place years ago, while visiting Plum Island, Newburyport, on Cape Ann, MA. The old cottage sat on a rise, with the Atlantic on the other side. On the protected side of the house, a few plants hung on to the ground, growing despite the landscape’s efforts to prevent them from doing so. “Beach Plum” 48 x 48
This place is about a mile from the studio, at the top of Walnut Hill, which I believe is the second highest of the town’s many hills. In early morning, just after the sun rises, the morning light hits the hilltop and throws a spotlight on the barn’s facade, giving it center stage to start the day.
June can be an iffy month, summerwise. Weather, school, and other life loose ends tend to not make it a great vacation week for some. But once July hits, summer’s here full force, especially on the Cape and other coastal towns of New England and up and down the East Coast. The sun is at perfect summer height for perfect beach days and dramatic sunsets/rises. These cottages, in Wellfleet, exemplify summer coastal destinations, with their stark, simple, uniform construction…designed simply to provide shelter against weather and dark for summer inhabitants who’s intent is to be in them as little as possible. “First of July” 14 x 14
I grew up in a house filled with antiques. These items had been handed down generations, and were precious reminders of those who used them before us. As years passed, and styles changed, some of these pieces were used less, as newer, more contemporary pieces were brought into the house. But the older pieces were not parted with…they stayed put, as a reminder of our family’s past, and in honor of those who first used them, and cared enough about them to leave to the next generation. Old things contain the mystery and history of those who possessed them before us, and with old structures, the mystery of who occupied them before us. “Antiquity” 36 x 24
