The Vernal Equinox. Reflections…

     And so it has finally arrived: the first day of spring.  Some years the vernal equinox is marked by a heartbreak-blizzard.  Today the sky was true blue, and although the air remained cold, the light sparkled with the unmistakably quality of spring. Signs of the coming season are everywhere: chartreuse moss lit with brilliant orange, tiny buds on trees, melting ice on vernal pools, and the sounds of the first early robins.  There is so much happening outside.  I returned from my morning run with Oli, both of us happily covered in mud. Too cold to spend more than a half hour or so at a time in the wind, I took the camera with me to record some notes for further study in the studio.  For now I will share my day in photos.  Amateur though my crude attempts with a camera may be, I hope you will see something of my thought process here… or at least find connection to my experience of this ephemeral season.   

 

click on thumbnails below to enlarge the images…

 

  

 

  

 

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A window into the ice painting process, continued…

    

An update on the ice painting, as I continue work on the second piece in this series. The debris, (branches, bits of pine cone casing and needles), and the ice itself form interesting organic shapes and loose geometric patterns frozen in water.  The paintings, inspired by close examination of the ice, are comprised of many layers.  I have several pieces going at once, reworking them as they dry.  I began by sketching out the linear shapes in oil bar over transparent washes on the panel.  From there I painted in the colorful chips, (inspired by the debris), and semi-opaque layers of white-washed oil bar and oil paint.  I notice the ice forms change daily… sometimes clear and sometimes milky.  The most beautiful appear to be a combination of both. Looking at the ice each day as it changes, I am reminded of a kaleidoscope, with shifting pieces of colored glass.

 For a larger view of this second piece in progress, click on the thumbnail below… 

 

(ice painting two, 24″ x 24″, oil on panel)

 

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The garden in winter…

 

 

Beyond the dogwood, the remains of trees broken in last month’s ice storm.

 

  

 Garden remnants encased in ice and snow… the vine is hops, the stalks, rodgersia

(the three thumbnails can be clicked to enlarge the photo) 

 

After two days of stormy weather, I finally had a look around the garden today just before plowing the driveway at dark. 

 

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2009 – Back to Work!

 

 

I love the first day/evening back in the studio after the holidays.   I took this shot of the easel tonight, just before stopping for a dinner break.

 It feels great to be back to work…. starting a new year.

 

Here is a corner detail of the piece, (24″x 24″ on panel), I am working on this evening,                    (easel shot above).

These days I am noticing all of the bits of debris suspended in ice and in the snow.  On my walks with Oli I am mesmerized by the beautiful textures and colors formed in frozen ponds and ice-patches.  Pine needles, broken branches and bits of leaves trapped in the layers of ice form the most beautiful tapestries in blue, rust, turquoise and honey.

I have a few pieces going now, (oil washes and layers built with oil paint and waxy oil bar), and they seem to flow from the “surface tension” series into this new group inspired by the ice… 

 

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Ice Storm and Power Outage – Day Six

Today is day six of the ice-storm power-outage in New England.  Utility crews have been working around the clock to get service restored to homes all over New England.  Those of us in more remote areas are still without power, and more snow and ice are on the way.

The destruction is unbelievable .  Trees have been uprooted, snapped off, and stripped of limbs.  As you can imagine, the power lines and poles beneath these broken trees have suffered enormously.  I will post more photos later… but here is a start:

Scenes from the New England Ice Storm of 2008

You can click on these photos to enlarge them a bit.

*****

The Silent, Speckless Sky. Remembering September 11, 2001

The sky this morning is the same impossible blue as it was on September 11th, 2001.

Silent.  Speckless. 

As I stood out on the western terrace with my morning coffee, I was struck by the eerie similarity to that morning, seven years ago.  

No contrail zig-zag etching the horizon.  No happy hum of a single engine Cessna 152.  No distant rumble of jets inbound to Boston or outbound to Europe.  Just an empty, silent-blue September sky greeted me… and my heart filled with sadness.

I stood in this same spot on the morning of September 11, 2001.  This land was new to me then. When I arrived here to meet Travis and Donny, doing site work with chain saws and a bull-dozer, I looked up into the sky and I noticed, briefly and only in passing, that there were no contrails above me.  The sky was still – but with all of the commotion here, I did not notice the silence.  It wasn’t until later that afternoon, when I returned home for lunch, that I heard the news from my friend Virginia.   

And so as I stood here at home on this chilly September morning, many thoughts stirred inside of me, in spite of the peaceful, quiet reality all around.  Still no airplanes:  I felt a slight wave of apprehension.  And then, in the distance, I caught the familiar sound of a single engine Cessna practicing stalls.  An airplane… at last.  The spell was broken.

And as the plane approached it became clear that this, by chance, was Billy; out teaching someone to fly. What a coincidence. As he flew overhead with his student, I scrambled to take what is in fact a terrible picture… but a powerful token.  

What I feel today, beyond the sadness, is relief and gratitude for this day, and for everything… for this life.

September 11th, 2008 

 

***** 

seeing… and capturing…

 

 

My friend Tim Geiss is trying to teach me how to really use a camera.

Brave man.

 This weekend was all about Av, Tv and ISO.  I have been practicing on everything.

 I am trying to learn about how the aperture, shutter and ISO speed work,  and to capture what I am seeing.   

 

   

 

Thanks for your patience Tim…  

 

*****