I had to do errands Downeast this fall and made time to stake out a painting spot on the wharf in Corea. The tide here runs 10′ or more, so timing my visits for the same time of day (for the light) and tide was complicated but worth every minute staring at the fine print in the almanac. I hope to get here when there’s snow on the ground some day.
I made studies and plan drawings for a dozen still life paintings this past summer, and working with these warm colors and sunlit blossoms is a terrific antidote for the stark landscape outside the studio window.
Snowberry Branches in a Tan Vase, 36 x 24, oil on panel
The native Symphoricarpos, commonly known as the snowberry, waxberry, or ghostberry, is a small genus of about 15 species of deciduousshrubs in the honeysuckle family, Caprifoliaceae. Most of the species are native to the eastern and midcoast of the US. In our yard the birds descend on the berries when they’ve turned soft and brown after a hard frost.
In October we had the invasion of crab apples (and fruit flies) in the studio, wind storms with power outages, and revelations about drapery and the role of drawing in painting thanks to a dear friend lending me her copy of Modern Prints and Drawings by Paul Sachs.
Now it has turned November and we have quince in progress, 24 x 18, oil on panel.
Hibiscus is one of the last perennials to “wake up” every spring in the Maine garden, but is reliably, improbably, hardy in zone 5. Come September the flowers glow like torches lit against the dark maroon foliage. An autumn morning cloudy sky and apple branches add to the illusion that the papery flowers, beloved of Kali, are lit from within.
A new piece that explores my new ideal of representing plants surrounded by both their environment and compatriots; a group portrait as if Rembrandt’s Night Watch were tall herbs assembling on the garden path in all their finery.
Elecampne on the Garden Path, oil on panel, 36 x 24