Marshall Point, oil on archival canvasboard, 9X12, $696, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
If you paint at the Marshall Point Light, someone is bound to ask, āDid you know this lighthouse was in the movie Forrest Gump?ā Itās a lovely lighthouse and deserves its status as an American icon. Iāve painted it and its approaches many times. There is nothing wrong with painting lighthouses (despite what art snobs say). However, that doesnāt mean you have to be obvious about it. Spend enough time with any lighthouse and you start seeing other things that interest youāthe ubiquitous brick oil house, or the porch, or the surf spraying onto the rocky headlands.
Marshall Point Light stands on a bedrock outcropping that can be completely awash depending on the weather and the tide. Itās connected to the land and the keeperās house by a long wooden walkway. Visitors usually walk out to the white brick tower, stop at the steel door, and turn around and walk back. Thereās really nothing to see out thereāunless you lean over the railing and examine the bedrock.
A basalt dike.
Most of what is exposed is metamorphic rock that has been highly deformed by geologic pressures. Interlayered quartzite and gray mica schist are wildly contorted. Dikes of younger black basalt crosscut this metamorphic rock. Even though I donāt want to paint those formations in detail, Iām still fascinated by them every time Iām in Port Clyde.
On this day, Poppy Balser was visiting. We didnāt have a lot of time before the tide turned, so we set out to do quick sketches. Iām happy that I focused on the rocks.
How to paint a lighthouse
If I were visiting Maine Iād want to paint a lighthouse. Theyāre iconic, beautiful, and historic. As with any new subject, Iād start with a view of the scene in its entirety. Some lighthouses, like Pemaquid Point, or the Portland Head Light, have keepersā houses attached. These create a very pretty roofline rhythm. Others, like Owls Head or Marshall Point, have separated keepersā houses. After I did one overall scenic painting, Iād start looking for details that interest me.
The Late Bus, oil on archival canvasboard, 6X8, $435.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
āI want AI to do my laundry and dishes, so I can do art and writing, not for AI to do my art and writing so I can do laundry and dishes,ā wrote Joanna Maciejewska, in what is probably the most apt comment of our times. Iām inundated with AI images. Their funny imperfections are offset by internal biases that are downright scary, especially when casual observers canāt tell them from reality.
Deadwood, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072.00 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Wabi-sabi art says that the maker is human
Wabi-sabi is a Japanese aesthetic that embraces the imperfect, impermanent and incomplete. It is trending right now in interior design and in the preciousness of Meghan Markleās American Orchard Riviera, but thereās a legitimate heart call there. If youāve ever attended a wedding in a barn or had a drink in a Mason jar, youāve lived wabi-sabi art, American-style.
Wabi-sabi occupies the same position in the Japanese aesthetic as the Greek ideals of beauty and perfection have occupied in western art for more than 2000 years. Itās the perfect antidote to the increasingly slick imitation of reality that AI represents.
The Logging Truck, oil on archival canvasboard, 16X20, $2029.00 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Most of us, if we think about wabi-sabi art at all, think of it in terms of kintsugi, or the art of repairing broken things that makes them better than they were when perfect. Thatās cool, but itās only one aspect of wabi-sabi. How can thinking about the imperfect, impermanent and incomplete improve our art?
Thatās a real bummer if youāre painting in the hope that your fame will outlive you, but that goal is a trap. It stops us from focusing on communicating with our fellow men in the here-and-now. āYesterday’s the past, tomorrow’s the future, but today is a gift,ā as they say.
All Flesh is as Grass, oil on linen, 30X40, $5072 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Art history is replete with examples of paintings that never seemed to get done. Leonardo da Vinci picked away at his Mona Lisa for sixteen years; he only quit working on it when his hand became paralyzed. That is less painting than obsession.
āFinishedā presumes that all the questions are answered. That sounds boring to me, but luckily I canāt say Iāve ever gotten there. I just get sick of working on things.
Nothing is perfect
The more technology gives us perfection, the more we embrace imperfection.
This is hardly my idea; itās been the general thrust of painting since the advent of photography. Photography explains tangible reality faster and better than paintings do. What we do far better than AI and photography is reveal the hand (and therefore the psyche) of the maker.
Lobster pound, 14X18, oil on canvas, $1594 framed includes shipping and handling within the continental US. I drove by the place where this used to be on Friday; it’s so depressing to see a new building, now empty and for sale.
I like living in an old house. Itās small and worn, but itās also charming and durable. Itās only when I want to fix or replace something that it annoys. Nothing is straight. Some walls and ceilings are plaster-and-lath, some are drywall, and some are board. Channels have been cannibalized for water or power lines, so youāre never sure what youāll find inside a wall. For most of our remit here, weāve been able to hire professionals to experience those āoh, no,ā moments. But not for this project.
This house was a classic New England farmhouse: a barn was attached to the main structure through a series of sheds. In the 1940s, the barn burned and took out the sheds and the kitchen ell. Charring can still be seen in the main sectionās rafters.
Evening in the Garden, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
The owners replaced the barn with a detached garage on the same foundation. Other than a new service panel and new doors, it stands as built 80 years ago. Itās no straighter or less quirky than the house; itās large and has a plank floor. My friend Ken DeWaard suggested I use part of it for a gallery. This year, I dived in.
Most artists are good with their hands as a matter of necessity. That can be a rabbit hole at times; for example; Iāve wasted lots of time and money in making frames when itās just cheaper and faster to buy them.
But there are jobs you canāt get done in a timely way, and small construction projects are high on that list. My recently-retired husband is my helper. When Iām done, Iāll have a 20X11 space with new lighting to showcase my work. Thatās just about the size of my former tent gallery but it will be much nicer.
This is where I got to as of Friday afternoon.
Some of these jobs, like building window frames, Iāve done before. Some are new to me, like rough-framing and hanging a door. For those I turn to YouTube. Watch five videos and youāll see five different techniques, but common sense helps you sort them out.
Then there are the jobs that you wonāt find on YouTube because thereās no audience for them. The back wall of my new space is removable like a stage set. At the same time, it should be as solid as a real wall, as it will have paintings hanging from it. I wonāt take it down often, so a lightweight false wall seemed, well, cheesy. The whole thing is held onto a beam with a lot of lag bolts, and a couple of strong guys should be able to tear it down in an hour.
Can you take this approach with learning to paint?
Well, yes and no. There are lots of good how-to paint videos out there about specific techniques, like brushwork. Longer videos tend to be demos, which are fun to watch but not great at developing skills. Videos that deal with something I already know about are more useful than ones that deal with new concepts. For example, I watched several videos about stretch ceilings, but I still wonāt try putting one up.
Last light at Cobequid Bay, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Just as nobody would mistake me for a master carpenter because Iāve built some things after watching YouTube videos, nobody is going to learn to be a master painter from watching how-to paint videos.
When people tell me, āIām gonna take one of your workshops someday,ā I sometimes feel like asking them if they think Iāll live forever. Iāve filmed the seventh and last of my how-to-paint interactive classes this spring. Unlike Zoom classes or workshops, they have the potential to keep teaching long after Iām gone, unlike how-to paint videos.
Home Farm, 20X24, oil on canvas, $2898 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Iām off to an opening at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde this afternoon (4-7 PM) If you want to join me, drive to the foot of Port Clyde Road, turn right on Cold Storage Road and it’s on your right.
Having just returned from Britain, Iāve contemplated the 18th and 19th century estates that the du Pont family were copying when they dreamed up Winterthur. Winterthur started as a small Greek Revival mansion, expanded until it contained 175 rooms and more than 2600 acres of land, and is now a public museum. Thatās the same trajectory as followed by many British Great Houses, except that their transit took hundreds of years, not a mere century.
Henry Francis du Pont was a shy, awkward man. After studying horticulture at Harvard (really), he came home to manage Winterthur. Although he was an autocrat in many ways, itās to Henry Algernon du Pontās credit that he didnāt force his only son into the shark-infested waters of early-20th-century business.
The younger du Pont styled himself a farmer, and became one of Americaās premier breeders of Holstein Friesian dairy cows. But with 250 field employees, he didnāt have much in common with the typical American farmer of the early 20th century. That fellow and his family were doing grinding chores, often in terrible weather, and always one jump ahead of crop failure. In contrast, Du Pont was a gentleman farmer, insulated from disaster by his familyās wealth.
Winterthurās estate was assembled by buying up a few dozen local farms. By 1925, the estate was raising turkeys, sheep, chickens, hogs, cows, vegetables and flowers. Winterthur also had greenhouses, a sawmill, a railroad station, and a post office. There were the show-stopping gardens and the du Pontsā premier collection of Early American interiors.
The lovely stone house I painted above was the home of one of the farm managers. It is not the fanciest of the 90 outbuildings on the estate, but itās my favorite. I imagine it is far pleasanter inside than the manor house, which is now our premierĀ museum of American furniture and decorative arts. These artifacts, sometimes including whole rooms, were bought up and salvaged when nobody much cared about Early American design. That, rather than farming, was Henry Francis du Pontās great contribution to our culture.
Larky Morning at Rockport Harbor, 11X14, on linen, $869 unframed includes shipping in continental US.
Iām thinking about Camden on Canvas and an impractical location occurs to me. Itās a glacial erratic on Fernaldās Neck. It would be long hike with a large canvas and my gear (although not nearly as onerous as painting from the top of Bald Mountain. Even when I get there, Iāll be confounded by the composition, as itās just a huge rock by the shore. However, itās one of those subjects that always excites me when I see it, so this might be the year I do it.
Glacial erratic with my friend Marjean for scale.
The problem of choosing plein air locations is compounded when one is teaching or organizing an outing for a group. There are practical considerations that arenāt as important when Iām painting solo.
At Rest in Camden Harbor, 12X16, oil on birch, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Hereās how I approach the question:
Does the view interest and inspire? Thatās a moving target, but I look for places with interesting compositions and varied elements. That way thereās something for everyone.
Howās the lighting? I consider the time of day when itās possible to be in that location. And, of course, at midday, I generally encourage people to down brushes and rest.
Is it accessible? This is far more important for a plein air class or an event where you have spectators than it is for solo painting. However, with big canvases come big equipment, and thatās where park-and-paint can be very helpful. Thereās a famous location in Schoodic thatās now off-limits to groups. I never took mine there anyway; I judged it to be just too easy to tumble off that cliff.
American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Is the terrain negotiable? I donāt mean just for me, but for everyone in my plein air group. The best locations are ones where the agile can move out and explore, but others can paint from near their car.
Can painters set up chairs? I have a duff back, and I no longer stand to paint. I want a place I can sit, and where my students can set up chairs if they wish. Thereās no shame in sitting to paint.
Whatās the weather forecast? It behooves a plein air painter to know all the overhangs, bridges, gazebos and other places he or she can shelter from the weather. That includes the sun if itās blistering hot as it will be this week. A contingency plan is a must. In Maine, mine is my own studio as a backup location. In other areas, it can be a rented hall.
Do you have permission? I will never forget being yelled at because other painters who were not part of my group had trespassed on private property. Make sure you have permission before you go on someone elseās land. One of the hidden costs of my Schoodic workshop at Acadia National Park is the required permit (and a hidden cost for all my workshops is insurance).
Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Leave no trace. If you brought it in, bring it out. Police your workstation before you leave.
Are there amenities? We all need restrooms, food, and water. While I can fend for myself, I need to be clear with students about their options before we arrive. Thereās no Starbucks at Schoodic, and I hope there never will be.
Can I get help in the case of an emergency? If thereās no cell-phone reception, I want to be within minutes of a ranger or a road.
Can we get away from the crowds? In Maine (and other popular destinations) thatās not always possible, but I work hard to keep people out of the worst traffic jams. Some people like talking about painting, but others really want privacy in which to work.
Are there multiple points of interest? There are many plein air painting sites with one great view, but theyāre inherently less interesting than those with a variety of points of interest. Is there depth, with distinctive features in the foreground, midground and background?
I spend a lot of time scouting in the area in which I paint (and teach), usually with sketchbook in hand. You should, too.
The four locations in todayās paintings are all places weāll be painting during Painting in Paradise, here in Rockport.
Two openings this week:
Thursday, June 20, 2024, I’ll be at the Camden Art Walk, at Lone Pine Real Estate, 19 Elm Street, Camden, ME. That’s 5-7 PM, and the Art Walk is kind of a street party. It’s rather short notice, but I would love to see you there. Especially as my husband is threatening to bring his bass guitar and plunk away in the corner.
Friday, June 21, 2024, I’ll be at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde, ME, from 4-7 PM for the opening reception of their first seasonal show, Barns. I’ll have three of them in the show, and my fantastically-gifted student Cassie Sano has taken my spot in the cooperative. I’m curious to see what she (and the rest of my friends there) is up to.
Ever-Changing Camden Harbor, 24X36, oil on canvas, $3188 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This is one of the places I’ll be teaching in next month’s workshop.
Last week in my Color of Light class, the conversation turned to water-miscible oils. I havenāt used them in years, and only to test them to see if they were a reasonable alternative to conventional oils (yes, although I donāt like their hand-feel). Itās your turn to teach me, and answer the question raised by my students: do miscible oils hold up over time?
Several of my students described problems with cracking, inner layers that didnāt cure, paint surfaces sticking to other things, or paint softening after varnishing with Krylon Kamar Varnish. āBut the color is so much better when the painting is varnished,ā said the person whoād used the Kamar.
Seafoam, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed, includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Since Iām a novice on the subject, Iām hoping that those of you with extensive experience with water-miscible oils can share that, good or bad
Kamar is, according to its material safety data sheet (MSDS), full of solvent. At least two of theseāheptane and acetoneācan dissolve oil paint, so Iām not shocked that Kamar could loosen up the surface of a painting. Iām no chemist and Iām not interested in reading MSDS for every spray varnish, but it makes sense that spray varnish needs plenty of solvent to be sprayable. On the other hand, Iāve used spray damar varnish on conventional oil paintings with no softening of the surface.
Apple Blossom Time, oil on archival canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US. Or, go see it at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde this month.
Winsor & Newton makes a line of brush-on varnishes for their water-miscible oils, in matte, satin and gloss. I recommend my student try one of those.
Miscible oils are oil paints that are engineered to allow them to be thinned and cleaned up with water. The idea is to avoid using volatile organic compounds like turpentine, which are harmful when inhaled. A disclaimer, however: we havenāt been using turpentine as a solvent in this country in this century; itās been replaced with odorless mineral spirits, or OMS. In a sense, miscible oils are fixing an obsolete problem.
The typical way of making oil and water mix is to add a surfactant. Thatās how detergent works to remove oils from your clothes and dishes. For water-miscible oils, the end of the oil medium molecule is rejiggered to help it bind loosely to water molecules. The key here is loosely; you want the water to evaporate.
Sea Fog, 9X12, oil on archival canvasboard, $696 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
The top-tier oil paint manufacturers, such as Gamblin or Michael Harding, do not offer miscible oils. Rather, they have solvent-free systems for working with regular oils. To me that indicates that miscible oils cannot yet be made to the highest standards of oil paints. In fact, the biggest complaint I hear about miscible oils is that their pigment load is lower. I donāt have enough experience to answer this with authority. Do you?
The issue of paintings not setting up or cracking is far more serious. This may be a simple fat-over-lean question. (I think thatās why my Kamar-using studentās paintings were dull and lifeless in the first place.) Fat-over-lean is every bit as true for miscible oils as it is for conventional oils.
In addition, miscible oils can crack is too much water is used, for the same reason that acrylics degrade if excessively diluted. There must be enough medium present to form a bond.
Thatās all I know about the subject, so Iād love to hear from you painters with experience with miscible oils: do you like them? What problems have you had with them? Do you have paintings a decade or more old, and if so, how is the finish holding up?
Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I have paintings in Camden for the first time in several years. Theyāre at Lone Pine Real Estate at 19 Elm Street, which is a very good location indeed. Rachael Umstead, the owner, is one of my church buddies and the mother of two very entertaining boys. She and her staff have made a great success of the office. Itās downright swank, something I could never manage in a million years.
Camden harbor is a terrific place to paint boats, and I love bringing students there. You can get a hot dog (or something fishy) and a soda at Harbor Dogs, which has been there for more than 50 years. Ambience? None, if what youāre looking for is fine dining. Iām more inclined to sit in the sun and watch the schooners, the little kids fishing, and the ducks.
That painting under way.
Itās always fun to paint at the harbor after a stiff rain. Sailors will be busy bailing out their dinghies and raising sails to dry. That creates a lovely geometry of docks, sail and other boats.
I painted Drying Sails with my pal Bjƶrn Runquist. We were practicing our chip shots for Camden on Canvas, although I no longer remember why we felt that was necessary. I do remember that I encouraged Bjƶrn to paint one of the schooners, who waited until he was well underway and then dropped her frills. Sorry, Bjƶrn.
Another day, another iteration of the same subject. (Private collection.)
Camden harbor is one of the must-paint places for my students at my July workshop, which is right around the corner. If youāre considering it, you want to register soon, since itās both close and nearly filled up. My other workshops are listed below.) And if youāre coming from out of town, email me and Iāll give you some suggestions about where to stayāthe Maine coast fills up fast during the summer months.
Main Street, Owl’s Head, oil on archival canvasboard, $1623 includes shipping and handling in continental US. This is one of the places we go during our July workshop.
With some trepidation, I handed Monday’s Words and Pictures class over to my student Rebecca Bense. She led us in an impromptu neurographic art exercise. I know, love and trust Becky, but Iāve had enough therapy to be guarded about diving into my subconscious. By the end of the exercise, I thought it was a good way to dig deeper into the meaning of art. And, since I seemed to have drawn a hag-ridden self-portrait (below) I was startled by the result.
My first essay into neurographic art. I know it’s a self-portrait because of the corkscrew curl. Yikes.
Mondayās class is a very small group, and Iām teaching it because the content is important to me. If I used the customary pedagogical method and chased around questioning and critiquing, nobody would have a momentās peace. Instead, Iām developing ideas with, rather than for, the class. Itās fantastic fun for me, and I think Iāll probably learn something new about teaching.
A teacher is first a learner
I didnāt really have mastery of my craft until I learned to break it down in discrete steps and describe it to others. After all, that is what school is all about: repeating what one has learned. Not every artist is a good teacher; I know some very fine painters who are inarticulate. But when teaching is going well, itās a two-way street. Iām constantly surprised and amazed by what I learn from my students, as Mondayās class demonstrated.
Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US. This is a favorite place to teach and paint.
Why does anyone teach?
The obvious answer is that teaching provides a steadier income than just selling paintings, which can be a ācanary in a coalmineā careerāgreat when the market is up, dismal when itās down. But nobody survives teaching if their motivations donāt run deeper. āBecause you like telling people what to do,ā my smart-aleck daughter suggested. Thatās probably partly true.
Good teaching is akin to preaching. They both require a belief in and passion for the subject. Building on that, you harness communication skills, technical ability, and human connection, but theyāre all secondary to that passion.
Blueberry barrens, Clary Hill, oil on canvas, 24X36, $3985 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
True relationships
After a few decades of teaching and writing about painting, Iāve shared a lot about my life. My students have done the same. If a painter takes one of my online classes, theyāre signing up for 18 hours of ensemble learning. If they take one of my workshops, itās a full week. No, weāre not gossiping or chattering idly. We concentrate on painting, but that is a highly personal subject. We canāt help but make connections.
Although I once considered myself a private person, Iām now comfortable with this. For one thing, these days thereās very little anyone can blackmail me with.
Teaching has a long reach
I have students who have gone on to professional art careers. Some now teach, and some, like Cassie Sano, are successful writer-illustrators. Student Mark Gale works in an art program with homeless people in Austin, TX. Some, like architect Kamillah Ramos, will outlive me.
Like most artists, I went into art thinking I would make objects of lasting beauty. What if the actual product turned out to be future artists?
(I realize with a start that weāre within a month of my July workshop here in Rockport. If youāre considering it, you want to register soon, since itās both close and nearly filled up. My other workshops are listed below.)
Spring Greens, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $652 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Knowing why we do something helps us figure out how to do something. Today, I want to get down to the low-level programming of the art calling.
Why art?
I sometimes tell people that if I wasnāt a painter, Iād be a greeter at Wal-Mart. I no longer have conventional marketable skills. Iāve focused on painting for so long that everything else has fallen by the wayside.
That skirts around the real issue of what holds me here. Iām a visual thinker and a maker, and more than a bit didactic. The confluence of these can only be art.
Why are you compelled to create art? Your reasons will be different from mine, but are no less valid.
Apple Tree with Swing, 16X20, oil on archival canvasboard, $2029 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
Has what youāre doing ever been done before?
Not only has what I do been done repeatedly, it continues to be done by many painters who are just as competent as me.
On the other hand, nobody is doing exactly what Iām doing, because nobody has the same combination of brushwork and worldview.
As much as we prize novelty, AI points out the danger of putting all our efforts into style. Style can be easily copied. Content canāt.
I could drill down and tell you how my painting varies from my peersā in terms of focus, worldview, color, drafting and brushwork. Thatās a helpful exercise, especially when Iām feeling low.
How is your work unique? If you canāt answer this, is it because youāre drafting in a mentorās or a movementās slipstream? If so, what are you going to do about that?
Fog over Whiteface Mountain, 11X14, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
How do you work?
Iām a big believer in routine. It frees me up to concentrate on work, and I believe the human brain settles down into productivity fastest when it works at the same time every day. Others have told me this is stultifying.
What is the work style that works best for you? Do you go on painting tears, or do you work methodically? Why does your system work for you?
Whatās your ideal working environment?
Spaces like Francis Baconās studio make me agitated almost to the point of being physically ill. I need order to think. Tidying is, to me, a time when I let my subconscious mind resolve its confusions while my conscious mind does the important work of putting things away.
For others, this is unnecessarily proscriptive, and I know painters who never get past cleaning to do any work at all. Whatās your ideal working environment?
Owl’s Head, 11X14, oil on archival canvasboard, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.
What is your creative process?
For plein air, I look, do a value sketch, and then transfer that to my canvas. For studio work, I start with an idea in my sketchbook and repeatedly refine it. Only then come reference photos and the business on the canvas.
Iāve occasionally tried to mix this up by copying my palsā work system, but that has never worked for me. (Nobody ever called me a good student, just a good teacher.)
Do you have a rock-solid process? Are you willing to change it up? Is your answer a function of how long youāve been painting?
What do you want to think about next?
I think Iāll be perfectly content to paint landscapes until I die, but nobody can say that for sure. Right now, Iām interested in the nexus between words and pictures. If nothing comes of that, itās no loss. Iāve tried a lot of things that havenāt panned out, and I always learn from them.
If you were going to expand your media or subject matter, what would you add?
Home Port, 18X24,, $2318 includes shipping and handling in continental US.
I arrived at home, finally, at 5:43 yesterday evening. Iāve been gone for a long time and been to a lot of placesāto Manchester, Liverpool, Lancashire, Yorkshire, Edinburgh, Fife, and then home through Reykjavik and Boston. From there I went to Albany, NY, where I saw my family and collected my dog.
āWhy donāt you move to Vermont?ā my daughter asked me. (She knows I wonāt return to New York.) Iām extremely touched that my kids want me nearby, but I love my life here in Rockport.
When I was in Fife, I could feel my sinuses open with the sea air; I felt as if I were home again, for at least a few hours.
It was unbearably hot and humid on Wednesday in the Hudson Valley, reminding me powerfully of one reason I left New York. Itās just as cold in upstate New York as in Maine in the winter, but summers here are so much nicer. Itās that sea air, which moderates temperatures.
Yesterday morning, however, I hiked to a waterfall along Hannacroix Creek, where I let the dogs romp in the stream while I swatted mosquitoes. That reminded me of just how beautiful New York is. Itās a study in contrasts and always leaves me feeling conflicted.
Waterfall on Hannacroix Creek in Greene County, NY.
I arrived home to a beautiful thick fog and mizzle. It was 59Ā° F. and I could feel my dry skin relax and ease back into its usual healthy state. If you want to escape the heat of summer, I recommend Maine. (And if you paint, you can take one of my workshops.) If you have allergies, sea air is a balm.
I like Home Port for its view, but I also like its neighbor, a lovely lady whose house has figured in several of my paintings, including Forsythia at Three Chimneys. Sheās what I aspire to be at her age: self-reliant and forthright.
