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
An old friend in Portland gifted us with a piece of an old rose that grew in his father’s back yard. Hardy and sweet, it blooms once in midsummer on stems that arch nearly 10′, loaded down with pink blossoms and silvery foliage.
Hours of tedium and help from amazing friends turned this from an oft-heard comment (“Your drawings look like they could be paint-by-numbers!) into an actual book out in the real world.
Thanks to all, with a special shout-out to all the people who saw a woman in the road staring intently at their home over the edge of her sketchbook, and simply shrugged and went about their day without thinking too much about it.
I need to do a follow up post on waffle beds in the garden, possibly another on the new hive of bees, and I still haven’t planted out the spinach. On the other hand, my studio time has been very productive (and the spinach seeds can wait another few days).
The 2016 Acadia National Park centennial celebration has started with a bang, or well, a bean supper and an art show at the local kid’s summer camp. My work has taken many twists and turns over the past decades; from pastel to oil and still life to cityscape, and now “rocks and water” have come around just in time to celebrate a century of public access to some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. Just off the easel, Bass Harbor Rocks I, oil on panel, 24 x 18 inches.
We finally have coverage at our house that seemed cleverly sited to hide from every cell phone tower in the area and now I have a phone! This is relevant because evidently phones have cameras now – very fine cameras indeed – and I can post documentation of works in progress without dragging the Canon down to the studio. I apologize in advance for the art-spam coming your way, have a spruce tree at the Bass Harbor Light to start:
The houses in Stonington, Maine continue to be an inspiration. Snow melts and blows away quickly this close to the ocean so I haven’t managed to get out painting on a day with both sun and white stuff, but that’s the next project. Meanwhile, a small painting (16 x 12) of a house with blue awnings on the west side.