It’s the first day of 2022. Few will miss 2021, for obvious reasons. But for all the bad that 2021 will be remembered for, I’m grateful for the many good things that happened “last” year. And while not much of a New Years Resolution practitioner, I do look at the new year as a time for fresh starts. And with my little corner of New Hampshire entering what feels like day 15 of cold, gray, drizzly, icy weather, thoughts of Spring have crept in sooner than normal. Appropriately, a commission that has been in the works for a couple months is completed, and out for approval. The palette may have been influenced by our current bleak weather, as it leans towards the colors of that other marker of new beginnings…Spring. “Maylight” 54 x 28.
Martha’s Vineyard has a great conservation program known as the Land Bank Commission. Proceeds from every home sale are given to this organization. When privately held land worth preserving comes up for sale, the Land Bank has an opportunity to bid. As a result, there are many preserved, pristine parcels of land on the Island that look today as they always have…wild, rural and untouched. You can lose yourself in some of these places, whether it’s Felix Neck, Cedar Tree Neck, Quansoo, Chappy Point Beach, and many others. On a recent trip to Felix Neck, hiking the meadows that extend to Sengekontacket Pond, I found myself captivated by the simplicity of the landscape. Meadows, a few trees, and a distant treeline that separated the land from the water. Some call these properties preserves, conservation lands, or sanctuaries. What they all provide is refuge from the modern world. “Refuge” 46 x 32
I love remote, isolated places. Not just as subjects for paintings, but because I like being there. There’s something about knowing you’re away from everything, and everyone, but close enough to return to it all when you’re ready. One such place is along this strip of barrier dune in West Dennis, not far from our house there. It’s a mile-long stretch of sand dune, wind-dwarfed cedars, seagrass and hedge that buffers the Atlantic from a lagoon. Off-season, when all tourists are gone, this place is desolate, but calming. You can walk the long parking lot that flanks this sandy strip, or the beach on the other side. And if you take one of the dune paths that cuts through, you get that sense, for a moment, of being in the middle of nowhere. “Haven” 24 x 20
I tend to trespass too much. I call it “exploring”…scouting the landscape for inspiration. But more often than not, in an effort to get a unique perspective of a place, I might accidentally (and sometimes intentionally) enter private property. Several years ago, while exploring the shores of Truro, I parked on the road that leads up to Corn Hill to grab some reference of the well-known cottages that sit up top. Hiking up the massive dune, I made it to the back side of the one of the cottages, and took advantage of the off-season emptiness of the place. These unique perspectives are worth whatever risk my uninvited visit might result in.
I’ve painted this place multiple times…sometimes one cottage, and sometimes it’s identical neighbors to the left and right. The light in September, along the coast of Cape Cod, is pure and clear, and given a unique hue as light reflects off sand and sea. “September Light ” 36 x 36
I’ve always loved that brief period of time, just before sunset, when the low light of the setting sun rakes a warm light across the landscape. And in the hills and mountains of Vermont, at higher elevation, that light is extended by a few minutes. This place outside of Woodstock, glowed with warmth one recent late afternoon, “Twilight” 34 x 30
Several years ago I visited this farm in Chester, Vermont. The property was maintained by a handyman from Finland who gave me a tour through the immense barn, and who was in charge of keeping the place in good shape for the seasonal owners. The amount of work required to keep time from reclaiming this old structure was, as he explained, enormous. For him and the owners, I sensed it was more a labor of love than it was an effort based on necessity, as this was lived in only a few months out of the year. “Farmstead” 40 x 24
This looming barn sits at the top of a hill in Northern New Hampshire, and looks over one of the state’s largest Christmas tree farms. A fairly steep dirt road leads to it, and as you drive up, and get closer, you realize the true scale of this place. To attempt to capture that scale, beyond the composition itself, I chose a large canvas. As the sun sets to the west, the low, unobstructed light sets fire to the scene. “Facing North” 52 x 52.
This old farm is out near the seacoast of New Hampshire, a scene we used to pass fairly often on our way to various fields and gyms where the kids played soccer and baseball throughout their elementary and high school years. I’ve painted it a few times, but in previous pieces, I focused on smaller sections of this rambling structure. In this I opted to go for the entirety of the scene, as the long raking light of the afternoon seemed to fit both the format of the large, panoramic canvas…and the sprawl of the old homestead. “Late October” 70 x 30
This is one of the two twin barns I’ve painted often, based on a couple of slowly decaying barns up in Grantham, NH. It’s a favorite subject, for a few reasons…their side-by-side reflections of each other, the flat, grassy meadow they sit on, and the rolling ridgelines that surround them. In this piece, the fiery glow of the mown meadow in the afternoon sun takes center stage, while one of the two barns enjoys the show. “Fall Meadow” 16 x 20
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
