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Liquid Amber, 24″ x 24″, oil and oil bar on wood panel
A peek at new work in the studio. The rain has finally stopped here in New England, and golden July sunlight plays like liquid amber out on the water. I am returning to more regular studio hours now, and enjoying the long days. More to come soon…
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The song of the Hermit Thrush is to me the most beautiful sound on earth. The state bird of Vermont is in residence from mid-April until the full moon in August. A four month visit to the Green Mountains sounds more like a part-time state bird to me, but I will take him for as long as he is willing to stay. Gladly.
I equate the sound of the thrush with longing. This association began in childhood on summer nights when my father worked late. I would try to stay awake to say good night to him, since he would be off to work again before dawn. But try as I might, some evenings I would drift to sleep with the thrush’s song trailing off into the forest. His last notes would end around nine in the evening, fading like a memory with the last light.
To this day I anticipate the sound of the thrush in April with a pleasurable mix of melancholy and thrill. Summers passing, years blurring – when I hear his distinct voice, I am an eight year old again. The elusive Hermit Thrush sings from the shadows… far back in the low-lit hemlock. When he returns I know that summer is near. Summer: a short season in another fast moving year. Like any other this will be a year of endings and new beginnings, of sadness and joy. The summers in a lifetime are finite. And there is something about this much-anticipated bird that makes me want to grab life… to grab the people I love and hold them so close that I can feel their hearts beating. Time is precious and life ephemeral. I can not shake the feeling that the Hermit Thrush is trying to tell me not to fall asleep. Stay wide awake. Hold on to each day of your life for as long as possible and drink it all in.
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Hear the Hermit Thrush and see more information about this bird at: Whatbird.com
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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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Just a hint of color in the hills outside my door…
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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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The end of a long day…
Back to back storms brought two feet of snow to my studio in southern Vermont.
The wind, between 20 and 30 miles an hour most of the day, created some
very impressive snow drifts.
I have been plowing and shoveling all day long!
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If you find yourself in southern Vermont now through February 2009…please stop into the Crowell Gallery at Moore Free Library in Newfane, Vermont.
The Crowell Art Collection, purchased and gifted by Mr and Mrs Crowell, is is is on exhibit every year December -February.
You will find one of my paintings in this collection.
Included in this collection are the works of some fantastic artists also associated with Vermont. Below is the press release:
Newfane, Vermont
Crowell Gallery at Moore Free Library
Featured: Work by artists represented in the Crowell Art Collection — Clare Adams, Eric Aho, Barbara Comfort, Janet Fish, James Florschutz, Michaela Harlow, Mary Hermansader, Wolf Kahn, Mallory Lake, Emily Mason, Jules Olitski, Susan Osgood, John Ridgeway, Roger Sandes, Harry Saxman, Deidre Scherer, Johnny Swing and James Urbaska. Through February.
Where: Moore Free Library, 23 West St. Hours: Tuesday to Friday, 1 to 5 p.m., Saturday, from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. Contact: 802-365-7948.
My favorite artwork in this collection is a GREAT piece of sculpture by the amazing
And a beautiful painting by one of my greatest inspirations, the talented
Emily Mason
The snowy Vermont landscape is beautiful and seeing the collection is well worth the ride!
*A heartfelt thank you to the late Robert Crowell and his wife for their generosity*
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Here is the Vermont studio from above, just after the ice storm (2008). The studio was without electricity for over a week.
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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.
*****
Dorothy Gail had a good point………
honey bee visiting lavender mums
the autumn garden
views from the studio to the north, west and south… with fall colors
(click on any thumbnail to enlarge)
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Frost warning tonight….
Busy in the kitchen garden – trying to extend the season…
Hoop House construction… (click to enlarge)
Hoop Houses installed in the garden.
The Hungarians… RED… Just in the nick of time…
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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
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This rainbow appeared in the sky at sunset on August 7th. Violent thunderstorms circled the valley before and after this display. I am not sure of why the sky seemed to explode in a ball of rainbow-fire on the horizon. I have never seen anything like it before… and it was much more beautiful than this photo can capture. The rainbow formed a complete arc in the sky. It was subtle and paler to the east, and virtually electric to the south.
This sure has been the year for weather!
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The new vegetable garden, roughed in at the edge of the clearing
and with fresh straw mulch….
the flat is filled with lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower and hardy annual herbs.
The little frog pond just below the beds is VERY loud right now…
chinodoxa, sanguinaria, narcissus ‘lemon drop’, narcissus ‘february gold’, squill, crocus
and the much anticipated viburnum bodentense……
My morning guest clearly admires Dan Snow’s stonework. I think he is particularly fond of the fire sculpture.
I have never been so happy to see the color purple………..
The snow melted back just enough today to reveal this beautiful crocus pushing up through the ajuga.
She must be dreaming of spring…..
Two storms and twenty two inches of snow this week. Here I am pushing back the banks in the drive with Johnny and Oli after a foot of new snow fell on 2/25.
2/27: Returning to our clearing after a snow shoe through the forest…
2/29: Happy Leap Year. Ten more inches fell to welcome March!
Welcome 2008
Snow Shoe Adventures on New Year’s Day
A foot of new snow fell on December 31st …… Just the right kind for snow shoes!
There is now over 3 feet of snow on the ground
AND IT IS STILL SNOWING
It snowed most of New Year’s Day, and we went back outside to enjoy it in the afternoon…
And we weren’t the only ones out! This mouse resides in the woodpile. He was out in the snow storm this afternoon; harvesting some left over mint from the herb basket…
Southern Vermont has received over two feet of snow this month, and here at the top of the hill, you can see that just about everything is buried beneath a beautiful new blanket of white. In New England, when you live on top of exposed ledge at nearly 2,000′ … you get a lot of snow and even more drifting.
After two solid days of clean up last week, I found myself sitting quietly, (and exhausted!), by the wood stove, thinking about the year gone by. I am far more apt to spend my time doing than resting, especially in the warmer months, and so I truly appreciate this season for its ability to focus my energies inside the studio.
But before the creative chaos truly takes hold, this season of gathering with friends and family brings me to some important thoughts I would like to share.
To my collectors and supporters, my long time friends and new fans, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you. Your enthusiasm and encouragement push me forward at all times and remind me that what I do, working alone in my studio, has a needed place in this world. Words can not express how grateful I am for your audience.
To my family and the people I love, I feel the deepest gratitude. Thank you for believing in me, and for supporting my dreams. Your love is the greatest gift of all.
I wish you all a very happy New Year!
Fall color arrived late this year, and over the past couple of weeks the foliage in Halifax, Vermont has shifted from vibrant orange, yellow and crimson to rusty red, amber, copper and gold. As I write, looking into the Green River Valley, the hills are all aglow in the burnished hues of late autumn. 
October 22nd: Twilight visit to a lonely cemetery in Guilford, Vermont.
October 16th: The weather was cool and sunny, a perfect day for exploring new areas in and around the Quabbin watershed and the Swift River Valley, Massachusetts.
October 1st: The calendar says that it is October, and yet the weather feels much more like late August in the daytime. The nights here in Halifax have been cooler, but still no frost, and so the studio gardens continue to provide food for bees and late monarch butterflies.The contrast between the day and nightime temperatures has made for some beautifully foggy mornings, with just a hint of color in the valley.
secret garden walls and all stone work: artist Dan Snow
April, and we all begin to emerge from our dens.
Doctor Goof explores the fresh grass and relishes the scent of moist earth.
Morning walks reveal more and more living things exploding from the soil.
Photos from Southern Vermont Arts Center show, February-March 2007. These pictures were taken the day the show went up. Incidentally, this was also the coldest day of 2007.
January was a month of ice storms in Vermont….One storm left severe damage, and electricity at my studio was cut off for three days. Driving was impossible. During this period of time, I produced a large body of new work. When I was able to get out, Oli and I spent hours in the woods…especially in the ice-laden hemlock stands, which were just incredible to stand beneath. Claustrophobia and other fearful emotions combined with the sound of snapping tree limbs and spectacular light effects. It was at once frightening and compelling. The beauty of the visual experience produced by ice, light, clouds and varying precipitation was truly amazing. All of these things, sensory and emotional, contributed to a very intense experience. The work I produced during this time is very different from anything I have created before. This was a very productive studio month. Although the pieces feel light, when you look at them up close, you will see the many layers of pigment in hues ranging from prussian blue and green to naples yellow and chinese orange. When the world is a prism of ice, it is surprising what you can see! I included most of the new pieces in my February show at Southern Vermont Art Center.
