Ocean Park Archives | Page 2 of 2

July 25, 2016

13 paintings in 7 days

“Dyce Head in the early morning light,” 12X9, oil on canvas board, Carol L. Douglas

It’s unusual to come home from a week of painting empty-handed, but it just happened. I painted 13 works in seven days—seven at Ocean Park, six at Castine. Four are on display at Jakeman Hall in Ocean Park for rest of the season. The others have all gone on to new homes.

Every year, tiny Castine, ME (population 1366) turns out crowds of enthusiastic art buyers for Castine Plein Air. There are forty artists producing six works each, meaning there are 240 works on display. Somehow a majority of them get sold.

“Jonathan Submarining,” 8X6, oil on canvas board, Carol L. Douglas

As I walked into the Maine Maritime Academy student center with fellow painterBruce Newman, I commented that every year I think I’ve done good work until I see what my peers have done. He said he always feels the same way. Each year, new artists are juried in, so the quality is being distilled upwards. I get inquiries from enough out-of-state painters about this show that I know it’s ‘got legs’ in theplein air community.

“Wadsworth Cove spruce,” 6X8, oil on canvas board, Carol L. Douglas

On Saturday, Castine’s Witherle Library also held a used book sale. I have inside information about this event because my Castine hosts are the library’s president and treasurer. “There are lots of art books,” Harry told me. Sadly, the sale ended at 2, which was also our delivery deadline. Even though I finished painting earlier than I had ever done before, I still barely managed to set up on time.

“Wadsworth Cove garden,” 10X8, oil on canvas board, Carol L. Douglas

Despite my atrocious driving, I got to the library just as the signs were coming down. However, the Kaiserians took pity on me. Early Sunday morning, I went through the sale with Berna, even though I was sure Castine residents Philip Freedman and Karen Stanley had already nabbed all the best books. I found a book of Sir Stanley Spencer paintings. This odd English artist is one of my favorite painters. Score!

“The British Canal,” 12X16, oil on canvas board, Carol L. Douglas

I sometimes think we should have bought a home in Castine instead of Rockport. It’s so darn friendly. However, every mile north is a mile farther from my kids and grandkids. At times I feel those miles keenly. Such was the case on Sunday morning.

I have two ways of fighting sleepiness while driving. The first is writing in my head, but that only works when I’m mentally awake but physically tired. So I sang scales—creaky, raspy, cat-howl vocal exercises I learned in my youth. I don’t know if I’m kept awake because they sound so bad or whether they oxygenate the brain, but they always work as a last resort. They’re especially entertaining when driving through Camden with the windows down.

“J&E Riggins and Bowdoin in Castine Harbor,” 12X9, oil on canvas board, Carol L. Douglas

The physical crash, when it comes, is terrific. I find that the only cure is sleep—lots and lots of sleep. I crawled into my bed and slept the afternoon away, missing a visit by Mary Byrom and Marcus Gale to my studio. This morning, I feel almost perky enough to look at my calendar and see what I’m doing this week.

July 21, 2016

No side deals

“Ice Cream Parlor,” 12X16, is one of three pieces sold at last night’s show. The remaining four are on display at Jakeman Hall for the rest of the summer.

A very nice Canadian lady contacted me about buying my painting of Ocean Park’s ice cream parlor. Art in the Park doesn’t permit advance sales. One can, however, leave one’s credit card information with the office and the organizers will make the purchase when the sale opens.

I explained this to her. “But why can’t I buy it directly from you?” she asked. “Why do I have to go through the Ocean Park Association and pay them a commission?”

My final paintings, displayed at Ocean Park’s Temple.

Ocean Park, I told her, is an historic Chautauqua Assembly. The Ocean Park Association is the group responsible for its preservation, educational and cultural programming. They guard the special charm that makes Ocean Park a place people want to return to, summer after summer.

In addition, we artists couldn’t afford to paint there without the hospitality of residents who open their homes to us. The cost of a weekly rental would undo even the best art sales.

“I had no idea,” she answered.

To me, the work done by the non-profits who run plein air events is obvious: land preservation, historic preservation, arts education, community development, and more. But I work with these groups frequently. For someone who doesn’t, or someone from a country where they are funded in other ways, the importance of their fundraising may not be clear.

Anthony Watkins confers with budding driftwood artists.

It was a sweet last day of painting. Anthony Watkins was so tired he was barely standing. Still, he took time to counsel some young admirers on how to paint on driftwood. “We’ll pay you 25% of our profits if you let us use your paints,” they offered.

He deflected them graciously. “The trouble is,” he said, “these are the wrong kind of paints. You need to go home and see if you can find some house paint.”

Russ Whitten and I painted right up to the bell. Not that we were tired, but he lost his painting and I forgot to photograph mine. (Photo courtesy of Pamela Corcoran)

Russ Whitten sat on a bench painting a delightful nocturne from memory. (Sadly, he managed to lose it between there and the Temple.) A group of developmentally disabled adults surrounded us, enjoying their ice cream under the maples.

The carillon pealed the mighty opening bells exactly at 5. Sales were good, and we finished promptly at 7:30. Some painters headed home to a well-deserved rest. Anthony and I, however, loaded our respective cars and turned north toward Castine Plein Air.

I was approaching Belfast when I realized I hadn’t eaten since morning. After a quick stop, I pulled back on the road. Ahead of me was an old SUV with Maine plates. Despite the late hour, its driver was being annoyingly punctilious about speed limits.

Castine dreamed under a full moon as I finally arrived.

Castine slept under a full moon.

“Maybe I should crawl up his bumper to goose him up,” I thought. As I drew close, the vehicle looked awfully familiar. Was that Anthony’s old truck? I’ll never know for sure, but I followed it almost to Castine. The village slept in the gentle glow of the full moon. My hosts had left the light on for me.

By the time you read this, I’ll be on Castine’s village green, greeting old friends, making new ones, and discussing where we plan to paint. In short, it’s the start of a new event. This is a peculiar life: unpredictable, peripatetic, and often exhausting. Still, it’s a beautiful one, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

July 20, 2016

Far more fun than the convention

Come for the art show, stay for the full moon and balmy sea breezes.

Today is wrap-up day at Ocean Park’s Art in the Park. The wet paint show and saleis tonight from 5 to 7 PM. If you’re in Portland or points south, it’s a short drive to 14 Temple Ave, Ocean Park.

It’s a Perfect 10 day. You’ll see fine artwork in a beautiful historic beach town and you can stroll downtown for an ice cream cone afterward. Above all, nobody will be talking about the Republican National Convention.

Tour-de-force painting of the shuffleboard sign by Russel Whitten. I'm sure he finished this as perfectly as he started it.

Tour-de-force painting of the shuffleboard sign by Russel Whitten, in progress.

For the artists, the last day of an event means finishing work, taking photos, framing and packing. If there’s time, we might even paint one more piece just for fun. For watercolorists and pastel artists, the added work is even more considerable, since they must frame under glass and mount their work on acid-free paper.

Our workbenches are any flat surfaces we can appropriate for a few minutes. I have the luxury of a picnic table and fine weather today, but there have been many times I’ve framed on the back deck of my little Prius.

I started my morning yesterday by finishing my ice cream parlor painting from Monday. Anthony Watkins and Ed Buonvecchio chose the same subject, so we held an impromptu salon under the maples at the corner of Temple and Grand. All three of us like talking about painting almost as much as we like doing it.

“Goosefare sunset,” 10X8, Carol L. Douglas

An aspiring painter named Heidy sat down to watch me paint. When I realized she had her kit in her car, I suggested she paint with us in the afternoon. “You’ve chosen well, or badly,” I told her. “You’re surrounded by painting teachers.” It wasRussel Whitten who broke first and gave her an impromptu watercolor lesson.

Larry, Curly and Moe lost on a sand dune. (That’s really Anthony Watkins, Russ Whitten and Ed Buonvecchio.)

In addition to painting, Ed and I hawk Plein Air Painters of Maine to other painters. This totally-free association is a great resource. For most people, it’s important to have support and company in what is essentially a solitary pursuit.

“Curve on Goosefare Brook,” 8X6, Carol L. Douglas.

It’s not that common for event painters to move in a pack like we’ve been doing. I’ve really enjoyed it. For all our larking about, the work we’re turning out is of consistent high caliber. We’re all relaxed and having fun, and it shows in our work.

July 19, 2016

What could possibly go wrong?

"Ocean Park Ice Cream Parlor," 12X16. I'm heading down to finish it this morning.

“Ocean Park Ice Cream Fountain,” 12X16. I’m heading down to finish it this morning.

Early yesterday I got a call from Ed Buonvecchio, who is painting at Ocean Park’sArt in the Park with me. He planned to paint along the railroad tracks on the road into town. I told him it sounded, frankly, awful. I’d find my own darn painting spot.

Ambling along Temple Avenue, I ran into Frank Gwalthney, who was walking purposefully up the street. “Could you let me into Jakeman Hall to sharpen my pencils?” I asked.

“I need to run down to the tracks first,” he responded. “I got a call that Ed’s car is too close to the tracks. He needs to move it before it gets hit by a train.”

“Rising Surf,” 8X6, painted from the water side.

Happily, I can report that neither Ed nor his car was harmed, although he was close enough to the tracks that he seemed a little, well, stunned the rest of the day. I was so wrong about the subject. Ed’s painting is one of those rare things that make me think, “I wish I’d painted that.”

Art in the Park has been redesigned to be an invitational event with just five painters. This means we get to know our fellows much better than at the typical event, where 30 painters swarm across the landscape. I took my lunch break under a spreading maple with Christine Mathieu. Our paths have crossed over the years, but this was the first time we’ve ever really had a chance to talk.

The storm which rolled across Maine yesterday rumbled and threatened but eventually skipped over us. It arrived conveniently a few moments before our opening reception at Porter Hall. I enjoyed chatting with a woman who regularly reads my blog at home in St. Martins in the Caribbean.

Painting in the surf. I kept moving the easel toward shore whenever I felt it start slipping.

In the evening I took a few minutes to jump into the sea. “Why not?” I asked myself as I pondered how gorgeous the surf always looks from the water side. The tide was rising, so I had to move my easel every few minutes, but painting from the water worked just fine—until I tried to get the salt-water out of my tripod. It’s carbon fiber, so it isn’t going to rust, but I’m worried about the fittings.

Russ Whitten, Ed Buonvecchio and I painting nocturnes at the end of the day.

Russ Whitten, Ed Buonvecchio and I painted nocturnes at the end of the day.

We ended the day at the Temple, where Ed, Russel Whitten and I set up perilously late to paint a nocturne. (It helps if you do the drawing when it’s still light.) This was a little hard on Russ, whose watercolor paper wasn’t drying in the night air, and who has to “dance backwards,” leaving openings for the light areas instead of painting them in at the end.

The Temple, unfinished. I’ll finish it tonight.

The three of us grumbled and laughed about the absurdity of what we were doing but in the end we all turned out respectable attempts. Fourteen hours after we’d started working we folded up for the night. Today we do it again. It’s a fascinating life, although sometimes it’s grueling as well.

July 18, 2016

Augmented reality

Rachel Carson sunset, 10X8, oil on canvas

Pokémon Go has taken my family by storm. It has its critics, but I love the way it blurs the lines between reality and fantasy. They call this “augmented reality,” and I’m all for it. After all, augmented reality is what we artists are supposed to be all about.

I left home yesterday to start seven days of augmenting reality the old-fashioned way: with a brush. Until Wednesday, I’ll be in Ocean Park, ME’s Art in the Park. On Wednesday I decamp to Castine Plein Air.

That’s one full car.

While I’m only likely to paint ten paintings over the week, I can’t say for sure what sizes they’ll be, or in what colors, or even what subjects I’ll choose. I have a larger-than-usual assortment of frames and boards with me, plus clothes, paints and tools. My little Prius seems packed for any eventuality, but I still managed to spill ketchup on my one good shirt yesterday.

Ocean Park was founded in 1881 as a Free Will Baptist Chautauqua. It still functions as a Chautaqua Assembly 135 years later. Its grounds are graced with a series of lovely meeting spaces in the classic Camp Meeting style of the last century.

A duck family wandered through my scene.

I arrived at Porter Hall just a few minutes past the arrival time, and was actually the last expected artist to check in. My hosts are Ocean Park’s Education Committee Chairman Frank Gwalthney and his wife Helen. Although I’ve known them only for a year, they seem like old friends.

We sat and chatted until the sun started dropping. I went to Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge’s Goosefare Brook trail to paint while Helen went to the Temple to see PORTopera present Gian Carlo Menotti’s The Medium. That’s the Chautauqua experience in a nutshell: a whole lot of culture packed into a place of profound tranquility.

The fog dropped like a curtain across our view.

Ed Buonvecchio joined me at the mudflats. We worked fast against the sunset. Because I was looking directly west, I painted with my sunglasses on until the sun dropped below the trees. Then I put them on top of my head, only to accidentally shake them off over the bridge embankment.

Yesterday’s lesson was that climbing over guardrails and down concrete ledges was much easier 20 years ago. Nevertheless, I need those glasses. I managed to retrieve them without landing in Goosefare Brook, and decided that henceforth I’ll stash them in their case, not on my head.

The end of the road for painting last night.

A few minutes later, a thick fog started so swirl around us. It came up so fast and thick that I could do nothing but pack up and grope my way back to my car. Redolent of the sea, it was beautiful, soft and cool. And it’s here this morning, so my ideas for today’s first painting have changed just a little.