Poplars, 12X16, oil on archival canvasboard, available through Sedona Arts Center.
Going to Sedona Arts Center
I did about 95% of this painting while whooping it up with Ed Buonvecchio and Laura Martinez-Bianco in the Oak Creek Valley north of Slide Rock State Park. It was the last day of Sedona Arts Center’s 19th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. Ed wisely focused on the rocks rather than the trees. Laura and I waded into the foliage, looking for the abstraction that would define the place.
The scene has a flat meadow of dry grasses that cut straight across the base of the trees. Although the color was exquisite, I could find no way to include the grass without making a compositional blunder. Furthermore, black poplars are leggy and ungainly trees, although they were a magnificent golden color on that autumn day.
Claude Monet repeatedly visited poplars in a series of now-famous paintings. Nominally, these are about the trees, but their real subject is the interplay of light and pattern.
What I found so compelling (and difficult) about the scene was the repetition of the strong vertical motif in the trees and the rock spires behind them. I emphasized this by making the far-left tree bleed into the vertical chasm above it.
Sometimes we take risky decisions. Inevitably someone will come along and tell us how to correct our ‘mistakes’. I could have avoided the confluence of tree and rock, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting to paint. Monsieur Monet never took the safe path; why should I?
Poplars is going with me to the 20th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival later this month. I’m always happy to go to the Sedona Arts Center; not only do I get to see lots of my friends, but it’s a great organization.
Floof, 8X10, private collection.
Floof!
This is going to a private collection out west. Its owner wanted a coastal Maine painting (who doesn’t?) so she’s getting this tiny confection of surf and rock, with a bit of pine in the top left corner. That’s pretty much what this state is all about, after all.
I am not sure why I called it Floof, except I kept saying that to myself as I churned the water up. As for the rocks themselves, they’re along the Bagaduce River in the town of Penobscot, ME.
A reminder
Student show Richards Hill Gallery 394 Commercial Street Rockport, ME 04856 4-6 PM Friday, October 11, 2024
Peace is one of two paintings heading to Sedona with me…
I stumbled through building my gallery at 394 Commercial Street, Rockport after I got home from Yorkshire. We finished on July 3. That was a day late and a dollar short for a season that’s as brief as it is here in midcoast Maine.
Therefore, it was no surprise that I’d barely breathed in and out before it was time to close again. I’m heading out west to the 20th annual Sedona Plein Air Festival, and it makes no sense to open back up when I return in early November.
Windsurfers at La Pocatière, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
But first, an art gallery opening!
But before I do that, I’m holding one more shindig, and you’re invited. This is an opening for the students in the final workshop of my 2024 season, Rockport Immersive, which will be held next week. This is different from most of my workshops, because it includes one day with a model, a trip to the Farnsworth Art Museum, and an opportunity to hear Colin Page’s take on painting.
Those students who can delay their departure will hang their work in my gallery, and you and all your friends are invited to come by and talk art, have some light refreshments, and look at their (and my) work. That will be from 4-6 PM, Friday, October 11.
Why do you call it Richards Hill Gallery, anyway?
Richards Hill has been the name of our house through at least three owners. Until the late 1980s, it was still in the hands of the Richards family, after whom the hill on which we’re located is also named. My friend Cathy, who lived here before me, insists that it’s haunted, but I must be too simple a soul to be bothered by ghosts.
My buddy Jimmy Stewart admiring my palette.
And then I ramble
Immediately after that, I’ll winterize the gallery, pack my SUV and point it into the setting sun. Everyone I know has boggled at the idea. “Why are you driving?” they ask in incredulous tones. I’m heartily sick of flying and rental cars. Last year, my painting kit disappeared at Phoenix Sky Harbor, which wasn’t much fun either.
It’s not like I don’t have form at crisscrossing the continent. Two years ago, I buzzed out to Yellowstone for a weekend with my son Dwight. Four years ago, I went to Cody, WY to collect a pickup truck from my friend Jane. Eight years ago, I drove 10,000 miles across Alaska and Canada with my daughter Mary. This time I’m taking my dog and my husband, although only one of them can help with the driving. On the way back I’ll stop in Cody to see Jimmy Stewart the donkey. Then I’m off to Rochester for my goddaughter’s wedding.
But wait… there’s more
Even though my gallery will be closed for the season, you can still see my work at Lone Pine Real Estate, 19 Elm St., Camden, ME 04843, and North Pond Dental, 2467 Atlantic Highway Warren, ME 04864. Neither affiliation is accidental; I recommend both these businesses without hesitation.
Art show opening details:
Student show Richards Hill Gallery 394 Commercial Street Rockport, ME 04856 4-6 PM Friday, October 11, 2024
High Surf, 12X16, oil on prepared birch painting surface, $1159 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
What is fine art?
Fine art serves no practical purpose. It’s created for its aesthetic value and emotional impact rather than to do anything useful.
Calling something ‘fine art’ is not an assessment of quality. Something can be utter dreck and still fall under the heading of fine art, and fine craft is frequently better-executed than fine art.
The line between fine art and other disciplines is blurry. For example, Norman Rockwell and N.C. Wyeth were primarily illustrators, but they’re also considered among the best painters of their generation. And by any narrow definition of purpose, most pre-Renaissance painters would be lumped in with illustrators, since one of their main goals was to explain and amplify the Bible. What is fine art, then, is a difficult question to answer.
Sunset over Cadillac Mountain, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 includes shipping and handling.
What is the difference between fine art and commercial art?
The primary difference between fine art and commercial art is intent.
While fine and commercial art are both tools of communication, fine art’s focus is emotional, visual, and intellectual. Commercial art is made to sell a product, service, or idea. It is functional.
Fine art generally seeks to speak to its audience one-on-one, whereas commercial art is directed towards markets.
Fine art is judged on creativity, expression, technical skill, and its intellectual underpinnings. The individual artist and his or her vision is paramount. That means fine artists have the freedom to produce work that nobody cares about (although that’s likely to result in penury) whereas commercial artists generally work under another person’s guidelines and requirements.
Camden Harbor from Curtis Island, oil on canvas, $2782 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.
Do fine art and commercial art use the same media?
There is no distinction between what is used in fine art and what is used in commercial art, although certain media (for example oil painting or lost wax casting) are more suited towards fine art. Other media (for example, neon or digital imaging) are more suited toward commercial art.
Belfast Harbor, oil on archival canvasboard, 14X18, $1,275 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental United States.
What is the difference between fine art and fine craft?
The line between fine art and fine craft is even squishier. Traditionally, fine craft creates functional objects, although that has never been absolute. Grinling Gibbons was Britain’s most celebrated woodcarver. He was an excellent businessman and much of his work falls firmly in the area of fine craft. However, he also produced amazing confections in lime wood that transcend any purpose.
Since both fine art and fine craft can create decorative objects, the distinction is usually a matter of focus. Fine craft is said to emphasize skill and technique, whereas fine art emphasizes ideas.
The most comfortable distinction is in media. Fine craft includes ceramics, glasswork, textiles, woodworking, goldsmithing and other disciplines where the materials are critical to the results.
Which is best?
Since the 18th century, critics and gallerists have tried to rebrand fine art as an intellectual discipline, (although its practitioners generally remain stubbornly practical). Because of this, fine craft, illustration and commercial art have been perceived as lower art forms. This is an absurd distinction, and one that has led us to the worst excesses of conceptual art.
I’ve been both a commercial and fine artist, and I pursue some crafts. None is inherently better than another; it’s all a question of what you’re called to do.
The Pine Tree State, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I have a wicked TJ Maxx habit. It’s all fun and games until one of my kids pulls me into the so-called ‘wall art’ section. That’s mostly dreck, and it’s not cheap. A savvy customer could buy real art for just a little bit more money, and end up with an asset that appreciates, rather than something destined for a landfill.
Many young people haven’t a clue how to start collecting art. Those of us with mature collections can help them overcome this by giving them artwork. I’ve given paintings (mine and others’) to each of my four children. Two buy art themselves, one is saving to build a house, and one just isn’t interested. That’s not a bad result.
The Road to Seward, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.
If you’ve never collected paintings, here are some tips to get you started.
Define your interests: Visit galleries, museums, and art fairs to see what resonates with you. Don’t worry overmuch about matching your décor; that will change over time. Instead, look at the work in its own right. Is it catching your eye because of composition, content, or color?
A little knowledge is an excellent thing: I have written about the basic elements of design here. An art history or art appreciation course is a great way to start developing a critical eye.
Set a budget: Determine how much you’re willing to spend on art. You might be shocked to realize that you can build a decent art collection for the same amount you currently spend on tchotchkes, shoes, or avocado toast.
Beware cheap prints: These are not to be confused with fine art prints, which are made by artists in limited editions, and works of art in their own right. Prints are cheap in the short run, but they will never appreciate in value over time.
Attend art events: Go to gallery openings, auctions, and art shows. This will teach you a lot about the art world, even if the wine and cheese are terrible.
Buy from emerging artists: Collecting from up-and-coming artists can be a cost-effective way to start your collection while supporting new talent.
Think about where you’ll hang the piece: While I don’t think you should buy art to match your couch, some idea of where it will end up is helpful. When I was younger, my furniture was terrible, and I moved it and art around constantly. Today my furniture is mostly still terrible, but I don’t bother rotating it; I do still move art around.
Buy one good piece rather than a lot of subpar ones: Your mother told you the same thing about shoes, and it’s good advice. Just as there’s fast fashion, there’s fast art.
Write it down somewhere: Document your purchases, even if that means sticking a note in the back of the frame. Someday, the provenance of that painting might be extremely important.
Stay openminded: Just as my own painting has changed over time, so has my taste in art.
Toy Reindeer with double rainbow, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435 framed, includes shipping in continental US.
Sunrise, City Park, by Carol L. Douglas, 18X24, oil on linen, available in Artworks for Humanity auction.
This summer I ambled up to Belfast with Ken DeWaard, Peter Yesis, and Stephen Florimbi to paint for the third annual Artworks for Humanity. As usual, we puttered around but nothing stuck. I did, however, learn what a captain’s gig is: a long narrow boat with both a slew of oars and a mast and sail. And I did several starts, which I may or may not finish.
From Harbor Park, Alison Hill
I can only wonder why Stephan Giannini loves to paint nocturnes, but he’s very good at it. I only like nocturnes if I can start them just before dawn, as I’m very much a morning person. Luckily, my subject, City Park in Belfast, looks great at dawn. It faces east.
McLaughlin’s Lobster Shack, Lincolnville, Stephan Giannini
I’ve given you just a sample of this year’s paintings, but the full complement is viewable here. There are 25 lots in all; just click on the main image to start scrolling. (I’m lot 20.)
Goose River Morning, Peter Yesis
These paintings will be auctioned to support Habitat for Humanity of Waldo County. Sadly, I’ll be out of town. If you too will be away from midcoast Maine I urge you to bid on your favorite painting by contacting Kim at Waterfall Arts. She will take your information in advance and Habitat will have stand-in bidding on your behalf, up to your maximum bid.
In recent years, affordable housing has become difficult to find in coastal Maine. Visitors are affected just as much as full-time residents, because this disproportionately impacts service-industry workers. Buying a painting in this auction does more than just give you a lifetime memento of the place you love.
Afternoon Light, Björn Runquist
The public is invited to view the work in the Bayview Room of the United Farmers Market of Maine between 2:30-3:30 on September 28th. A ticketed reception with the artists will run from 4:30-5:30. The auction, by Belfast Mayor Eric Sanders, will begin at 5:30.
Belfast Morning, Eric Jacobsen
Harbormaster, Dan Corey
Visit www.artworksforhumanity.org for more details. Tickets can be purchased online, in advance at the office of Mailloux & Marden, P.A. (151 High St., Belfast), or at the door.
Yesterday’s outdoor church service and picnic, drawing by Carol L. Douglas. I knew I didn’t have time to draw each figure, so I made them a single mass.
On Sundays, I have between 35 and 40 minutes to draw, because that’s how long Quinton Self will preach. After decades of drawing in church, I can tell you exactly where the pastor is in his or her sermon; I almost always wind up at the same time.
It’s helpful to know how long you have to draw, because you can choose your level of finish in advance. A 30-second gesture drawing and a three-hour portrait can both be stylish, finished drawings that tells the viewer something about the subject. But for either to work, they must be planned.
A preparatory drawing for a painting.
What’s the difference?
Gesture drawing captures the essence and movement of a subject quickly, focusing on flow and rhythm. A finished drawing involves refining details and form for a polished representation. The technique in gesture drawing is loose and spontaneous, whereas finished drawings require precision. Gesture drawings may take just a few seconds, while finished drawings can take hours or even days, depending on complexity and detail.
A quick sketch, not more than ten minutes.
Why draw in the first place?
I primarily draw as the first step in designing a painting. It’s far faster than sketching out the idea in paint, only to realize that the composition I had in mind is weak. I’ll draw when I don’t have time to paint or it’s not appropriate (as in church). But all that implies that drawing is somehow lesser than painting. Drawing is a powerful form of expression on its own.
Sometimes I’m the only one who’s amused. From a poem by John Betjeman.
How long does it take to get good at drawing?
It’s a disservice to beginning painters to not insist that they first learn to draw. It’s also a disservice to let them think that drawing is a magic trick or something we’re born knowing innately. Anyone of normal intelligence and vision can draw; they just need to learn how.
It doesn’t take long at all to learn. I taught my friend Amy Vail to draw in one short session; a week later, she was drawing like an old pro.
And sometimes I’ll work out something I don’t plan to paint.
From sketch to realized work
Sometimes you need to sketch before you can draw. Finished drawings require composition, proportion, lighting and perspective, just as finished paintings do. Andrew Wyeth created many drawings before he dragged out his paint kit, and many others just for the sheer joy of drawing.
Knowing how long you have to draw is your best tool to finish strong. That’s not always possible; for example, you will never know how long you have to wait at the doctor’s office. But when you do, you can direct your pencil to what matters in a sensible way.
I don’t have a drawing class scheduled, but if you want to take it next time it’s offered, email me here and I’ll put you on a list.
An apology
Right before I left to teach aboard American Eagle last week, my laptop converted itself to a brick. (That happens to me frequently, and I can’t really explain why.) Friday’s blog post was written on my phone, and it reads like it. Sorry about that.
When I got home, I told my daughter I needed to order a replacement. “Don’t do that!” she said. “Your new one is already there!” I’m typing on it now, using remote desktop. Any bumps in the road going forward are just from reinstalling software and restoring my last backup. I hope this one lasts longer than 29 months I got out of the last one. Sigh.
I just finished teaching aboard the lovely and gracious American Eagle, now in her third year under Captain Tyler King. It was a week filled with painting discovery, adventure and great food (did I mention lobster?) and my students all progressed by leaps and bounds.
I had time to whip off these two fast watercolors on Yupo. No, they’re not for sale but I thought you’d enjoy seeing them.
These were painted with genuine Gulf of Maine seawater, which is my standard practice whenever possible. It creates granulation patterns and it’s often easier than lugging a jug of freshwater around. However, I don’t activate my paint with saltwater, because it seems to break down the binder. And it’s important to rinse my brushes with freshwater when I get home.
I haven’t been back to Castine since my friend Harry’s memorial service, and I was hesitant to go ashore. “All my friends are dead,” I told Tyler in the most self-pitying voice I could muster.
I’m glad we went, because it was an opportunity for my students to practice perspective drawing. Every artist should understand two-point perspective, and then never use it again. Understanding it prevents many gaffes, not just in buildings, but in the sky as well. (Clouds follow the same perspective rules as everything else )
“I’m cured!” I announced when I climbed back aboard. I was being melodramatic, but it’s true that I was reminded of just how much I love Castine.
I have one more workshop this fall, an intensive that includes figure in the landscape and a trip to the Farnsworth. (While I normally include links in the text, I’m tapping this out on my phone.)
Brigantine Swift in Camden Harbor, 24X30, oil on canvas, framed, $3478 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
If you’re looking for me this weekend, I’ll be out on Penobsot Bay, teaching my Art and Adventure at Sea workshop aboard American Eagle. That means no connectivity and therefore no blog post on Wednesday. One of the most common questions I’m asked is, how do you paint water. Water is so immense, slippery, and mercurial, that it is impossible to nail it down into a schtick. Instead, the painter must rely on observation.
Heavy Weather (Ketch Angelique), 24X36, oil on canvas, framed, $3985 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Is the ocean a reflection of the sky?
Reflections are a distortion of the surrounding environment. That’s true whether you’re painting them on the ocean or in a glass of water. These reflections are never going to be consistent but they will follow the laws of physics.
Imagine an ocean that is perfectly flat, and that you can walk on water. Looking at your feet, you can see straight down into the water. It’s not reflecting anything. Looking at a rubber ducky floating ten feet away, you’re looking at the surface at about a 26° angle. You’ll see a reflection of the ducky, the sky, and a glimpse of what’s under the surface. As you look farther away, the angle gets smaller and smaller, and all you see is the reflected sky.
Reflection involves two rays – an incoming (incident) ray and an outgoing (reflected) ray. Physics tells us that the angles are identical but on opposite sides of a tangent. This is why the reflection of a boat needs to be directly below the real object in your painting. You can add other colors into that area, but the reflection can’t be wider than the object it’s reflecting.
Breaking Storm, oil on linen, 30X48, $5579 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Water is transparent, but it has a shiny surface. Some rays of light make it through and bounce back at us from the sea floor. Reflections in glass work the same way. You can see through the glass in the surface that’s facing you, but the curving sides reflect light from around the room. Because glass is imperfect, these reflections will be distorted.
The ocean complicates matters by being bouncy. Even on the calmest day, the surface of water is never perfectly flat; it’s wavy or worse, just like a fun-house mirror. Waves are a series of irregular curves. How they reflect light depends on what plane you’re seeing at that nano-second. It seems like the easiest thing to do is to capture it in a photo and paint from that, but what we see in photos is sometimes very different from what we perceive in life.
Instead, sit a moment with and watch how patterns seem to repeat. They’re never exactly the same, since waves are a stochastic process (think random but repeating). But they’re close enough to discern general patterns.
Beautiful Dream, oil on archival canvasboard, $1449 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Solid objects can also trip you up in their reflections. Consider the humble spoon. It’s concave. That distorts its reflections. There’s no point in trying to predict what you might see; it’s best to just look. Likewise, a mirror only reflects straight back at you if you’re in front of it.
There are times when the ocean makes no reflection at all. Only smooth surfaces reflect light coherently enough to make reflections. That’s why burlap has no reflections. Sometimes, when water is being wind-whipped, it doesn’t have reflections either. To paint such a sea, keep the contrast low. A grey, windy day, or a turbulent sea will have a surface too broken up to reflect anything but the most general light.
Some people say that reflections should be lower in chroma than their objects, but I don’t think that’s true. Often, the ocean seems to concentrate color. Sometimes, the water will be lightest at the horizon; other days there will be a deep band there. However, the farther away, the more its colors shift toward blue-violet.
Paintings by Ray Roberts, courtesy the Page Gallery.
High Surf, 12X16, oil on prepared birch painting surface, $1159 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I always mean to go to Perkin’s Cove for its annual plein air event, for no other reason than to see my friends and paint along the Marginal Way. (I could do that any day of the week, but sometimes you need a spur.) This year, I finally fit it into my schedule. Of course, it wasn’t until I was a few minutes out of Ogunquit that I remembered to call one of those friends: my buddy Bruce McMillan. As we were talking, I passed him on the roadside, hauling his kit to the Marginal Way.
Surf’s Up is 12X16, on a prepared birch surface. $1159 includes shipping and handling in the Continental US.
Me, living in the past? No way!
Ogunquit is a place of fond memory for me. I used to take my kids there every other summer when they were small. They’d spend the day paddling in the surf, eat pink hot dogs at Barnacle Billy’s, and then we’d walk along the Marginal Way in the evening. We’d stay with my friend Jan. These days, I drive past her lane and avert my eyes; where there were once small, rustic, seasonal cottages, there are now million-dollar vacation homes.
When my twins were about six, I took them out on boogie boards to a sandbar on the north end of Ogunquit’s ‘puddle’. We had fun playing in the surf, until it was time to go back. The tidal pool that had been ankle deep when we went out was now over my head, and the surf was rolling. I’m a strong swimmer and both girls were good swimmers themselves, but it was all I could do to get them back to shore. I woke up in a cold sweat about it for months afterward. And Ogunquit’s beaches make rip currents and undertows when they feel like it.
Bruce took this delightful picture of me painting.
Look to the sea
I have been back to the Marginal Way to paint occasionally, and when I face toward the sea nothing has changed. Nor will it, if Nature has its way.
Bruce painted spray in watercolor and I painted it in oils. Every few minutes we would stop and stare openmouthed at the towering surf. It cut down on our productivity, but it was a transcendent experience.
Come see me tomorrow at 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, ME, from 5-7 PM. I promise I’m not cooking.
Come see me this evening
I’m not cooking, for which you can all be grateful, but my husband has offered to make his signature bean dip.
Grand opening Carol L. Douglas Gallery at Richards Hill Friday, September 13, 5-7 PM 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, ME 04856
The Late Bus, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
“In the Rock-Paper-Scissors scheme of things, does acrylic ever top oil in terms of being taken seriously by collectors and curators?” Cheryl Shanahan asked me. It’s a great question. Although acrylics have been around since the middle of the last century (like me), they are not as commonly used as oils by the top tier of painters.
There are, of course, some acrylic painters who’ve been taken very seriously indeed: David Hockney, Robert Motherwell, Mark Rothko, Helen Frankenthaler, and Roy Lichtenstein, to name just a few. Acrylics lend themselves more to color field painting than they do to fine modeling. And until the advent of retarders, acrylics were difficult to use en plein air. Standard heavy-body acrylics are a constant struggle against premature drying when used outdoors.
Early Morning at Moon Lake, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
What makes a painting valuable?
The value of any work of art rests mostly in the name of its creator, a fact which has infuriated artists since the advent of art. Of course, if he or she is dead, the supply of new work has dried up, which drives prices up. That’s why I’m so tempted to fake my own death.
In 2019, an exhaustive study of the works of Joan Miró noted, “Miró’s works command higher prices, ceteris paribus*, when they were painted on canvas, were sold at Sotheby’s and in New York City or London, were traded during the evening session and depending on the period in which they had been painted, the size of their surface area, the number of words used to describe the respective lot and whether they had appeared in an art book. The prices of Miró’s paintings increased substantially between 2003 and 2008 and then declined, coinciding with the global financial crisis of 2009.” You can’t discount market manipulation when considering what makes a painting valuable.
Last light at Cobequid Bay, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
There are oil painters who will tell you there’s a hierarchy of mediums. “I had a watercolor friend who attended a plein air convention and she felt as if the oil painters were dismissive,” Cheryl said. “I listened to another oil painter friend on a podcast, and she was poo-pooing acrylics a bit. Her take was that galleries she was interested in were showing only oils.”
In my experience, many gallerists are already saddled with too many artists and will tell importuning artists the first thing that comes to mind to get rid of them. No gallery would reject a tempera painting by Andrew Wyeth, a watercolor by John Singer Sargent, or a house-paint drip painting by Jackson Pollock.
Having said that, there is some justification for the price differential between media. Some mediums are more time-consuming and the materials cost can be higher.
No Northern Lights Tonight, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Having taught many students in oils, acrylics, watercolor, and pastel, I have never been able to figure out what makes a person gravitate to a specific medium. They’re each capable of being either painterly or linear. But although I’m reasonably facile in them all, I gravitate to oils, followed by watercolors. It’s not that I think they’re better; in fact, if I were twenty again, I’d probably be using spray paint. It’s simply that it’s easiest to pick up the same kit day after day. If I flitted between them, I’d spend all my time setting up and none of it painting.
*That’s just a fancy way of saying, ‘everything else being equal.’
Mark next Friday on your calendar
Grand opening Carol L. Douglas Gallery at Richards Hill Friday, September 13, 5-7 PM 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, ME 04856
