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Tag: Camden on Canvas

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What to wear to an art show

Prom Shoes 1, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435.

I own one skirt and one dress, but I must combine painting and public events over the next ten days. I Googled what to wear to an art show to give myself ideas. The consensus was:

Men should wear a blazer or sport coat, dress shirt, nice trousers or dark jeans, and polished shoes. For contemporary work, they should wear trendy shirts, slim-fit pants or jeans, and stylish sneakers or shoes.

Women should wear a chic dress, skirt or stylish pantsuit, paired with heels or fashionable flats. For contemporary work, they should wear fashion-forward dresses or outfits, statement accessories, and stylish shoes. I don’t own any stylish shoes.

Libby and Sharon discussing the Neolithic stone circle at Beech Hill (okay, I made that up).

This all reminds me of Chelsea back in the day. My goddaughter and I had gone to Brad Marshall’s and Cornelia Foss’ openings, and were catching our breath on the street. We started to count how many people were wearing those heavy black plastic glasses that were then so cutting-edge. We stopped at a hundred. These people were deeply concerned with what to wear to an art show. Being seen is some people’s raison d’etre.

In Maine, people are not such slaves to fashion. This is a state where we have flannel and Sunday-go-to-meetin’ flannel. At any rate, I don’t care what you wear, just mark these three dates on your calendar, and come out and support us.

I am very grateful to Coastal Mountain Land Trust for being so welcoming to my students.

Friday, July 12, 2024: Painting in Paradise student show, 5-7 PM

I’m teaching my first of this season’s workshops this week. Since my gallerage (my own coinage, and I like it) is now open, I will be showing their work on Friday evening from 5-7 PM.

The gallerage is located at 394 Commercial Street, Rockport, and we’d love to see you.

This group is keeping me alert, as they’re all very able. I go home every afternoon wondering how I’ll organize the next day’s material to keep them interested. (I never want anyone to go home feeling bored, or worse, ignored.)

If you’ve ever wondered what kind of painting gets done in a workshop, this is an excellent opportunity to find out.

Frequent hydration breaks are a must.

July 18, 2024: Camden Art Walk

Galleries and shops are open all through town. I’ll be at Lone Pine Realty, 19 Elm Street (next to Zoot Coffee). Last month’s Art Walk was rained out, and I went home with cookies, wine, and lemonade, none of which are on my diet. This month, don’t make me drink alone!

Tired painters heading down the hill.

July 19-21, 2024: Camden on Canvas

“Twenty-one notable New England landscape artists will paint en plein air.” I like repeating that, because I am one of those painters. We’ll be at sites in Camden and Rockport from Friday morning, July 19, to noon on Sunday, July 21. I haven’t decided exactly where I’ll paint, but I’ve narrowed it down to either Curtis Island (bring your dinghy) or Fernald’s Neck, unless I change my mind. You can find out exactly where I and the other artists are by visiting the Camden on Canvas Information Tent outside the library’s Atlantic Avenue entrance. Or check my Facebook or Instagram feeds.

The wet paintings exhibit will be open to the public at the historic Camden Amphitheatre, Sunday, July 21, from 1-3 PM. After that, there’s a reception and live auction from 4-6 PM. Tickets can be purchased online for $75 each or by calling 207-236-3440. Proceeds are shared equally between the Library’s Campaign for the Future and the artists.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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Marine art finally escapes drydock

Brigantine Swift in Camden Harbor, 24X30, oil on canvas, framed, $3478 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

This painting benefitted from a good long spell in drydock.

I started it a few years ago on the docks at Camden harbor, for Camden on Canvas. That’s the brainchild of Colin Page, and it’s become a great venue for marine art as well as a successful fundraiser for the Camden Library. (I’m happy to say I’m in again for 2024.)

It was hot, I was parched, and for once the creak of wood and water wasn’t moving me. I threw down my brushes in disgust.

“I hate it,” I spat out as I scraped the canvas down. I almost never do that, but I was riled.

“I like it,” said Björn Runquist.

“It’s not that bad,” said Eric Jacobsen.

“What is the matter with you?” asked Ken DeWaard, who never cuts me any slack.

What’s the point of having friends if you never listen to them?

The only part I really liked was the filtered, haloed sun, but that wasn’t enough to hang a whole painting on. Still, I respect their opinions, so I didn’t use the canvas as a sail for my dinghy. Instead, it went into my giant pile of unfinished marine art. It was bigger than most of the others, so I was constantly catching it with my foot or in the corner of my eye. Gradually, it grew on me.

Its spars (the things the sails hang from) are so delicate that they look as if they couldn’t possibly survive the North Atlantic. Even worse, they looked cockeyed to me. “You’re a better draftsman than that,” I chided myself.

I almost never take reference photos, preferring to whine at my friends if I discover I need one. However, I did find a picture from the dock that day. Those spars looked just as cockeyed in the photo as they did in my painting. The only other square-rigger I know of at rest is Cutty Sark, in Greenwich, England. Her spars are perpendicular to the keel, but she’s not exactly docked; she’s more trapped, like an insect in amber.

Cutty Sark stuck in her permanent installation in Greenwich. She’s going nowhere. Photo courtesy of Ethan Doyle White/

I called my resident expert on all matters maritime, Captain John Foss. He told me that, despite the name, a square-rigger can, in fact, turn its spars. They can be angled from running straight across the vessel (‘square’), to a beam reach or even a close reach.

I learn something new every day, darn it.

Marine art is complicted

Many years ago, I was wrapping up a painting on the Camden docks when two young salts stopped to look at it.

“Should we tell her?” asked one, quietly enough that he thought I couldn’t hear.

“Nah.”

I might love painting boats, but I don’t think I’ve ever done a spot of marine art that didn’t include an error or omission. Sometimes they’re intentional, for compositional purposes. Sometimes they’re oversights, and sometimes they’re mistakes. I think this one is fine, but if not, one of my friends is sure to tell me.

I’m in Britain on another lovely, long, blister-inducing hike. I’ve turned my phone off and while I’m gone, Laura will be running the office. Just email me as usual if you have questions or problems registering for a class or workshop. (Who am I kidding? She fixes all that stuff anyway.)

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025:

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That show you want to get into, and can’t

Schooners in the fog at Camden, 9X12, private collection.

“How do you get into shows like Camden on Canvas?” a reader asked in response to Friday’s post. “It seems like I just keep getting rejected over and over.”

When I was young, I was very naive. I thought I could apply to prestigious shows and I’d automatically get in, because the jurors – of course! – would instantly recognize my genius. It didn’t help that I had some early successes, which were the equivalent of a new golfer hitting a hole-in-one. They didn’t signify anything about my skill, but they made the inevitable rejection that much harder.

Ketch and Schooner, 8X10 in a solid silver leaf frame, $652 includes shipping in the continental US. Lighter fog, 20 years after the above painting, my style has changed but the dock remains the same.

Today I’m no smarter, but I’m far more experienced. I’ve learned the hard way that the competition is fierce. We work our way up to big shows by putting in time and effort at smaller shows. Jurying is subjective, so you might win an award one year, and be rejected another year. (I’ve never had much luck trying to game the system by only applying to shows where I think the jurors will like my work.) Moreover, there are some factors you can’t know, such a gallery’s pressing need to have more of one medium, or artists of a particular demographic, in a show. You can’t take any of it personally.

It’s partly a game of numbers; the more events you apply to, the more you’ll get into. I’m a better painter than I was 25 years ago. I hope to be even better 25 years hence. My success rate is better than it was a quarter-century ago and I expect it will continue to improve.

Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed includes shipping in continental US. This is one of my favorite things I’ve painted in Camden in recent years.

Painting in front of an audience

“I hate painting in front of crowds,” a friend kvetched as we scouted locations. In the case of nerves, as I wrote last week, desensitization helps. But for most experienced painters, the problem isn’t nervousness but distraction.

That’s a harder nut to crack. We are supposed to talk to passers-by, engage them in the painting process, and encourage them to attend the auction or sale. However much that helps business, it can have a toxic impact on your work.

Sometimes I do two paintings: one is a serious entry for the auction, and one is theater. But that’s not always possible.

I cope with frequent interruptions by digging deeper into my process. That way, when I’ve lost the thread, I can go back over my mental checklist. And when I’ve gone completely off the rails, I take a break and go bother some other artist.

There are artists who simply can’t deal with the endless chatter. There are solitary perches even in Camden, where they’ll squirrel themselves away to paint. The downside is that they haven’t established a relationship with their audience, and that’s not good for sales.

Camden Harbor, Midsummer, oil on canvas, 24X36 $3,985 framed includes shipping in continental US.

What about the weather?

This has been a very unusual year. Fog is a beautiful part of our climate, but even lifelong Mainers have told me they’ve never seen this much dense fog.

Obviously, I’m not a meteorologist but since we’ve been in a fog pattern for months now, it’s unlikely to change by Friday. What’s a poor artist to do? Shorten the pictorial distance, play up the atmospherics, and, above all, count my blessings. It could be snowing.

Camden on Canvas features “twenty-two notable New England landscape artists [who] will paint, en plein air, at multiple local sites” from this Friday morning to noon on Sunday. Start your tour at the information tent outside the Camden Library’s Atlantic Avenue entrance. There, you’ll find information about us and a map showing where we’re painting. The tent will be open from 9 to 5 Friday and Saturday, and 9 to noon on Sunday.

The reception and auction will be Sunday, July 23, 4 to 6 PM, and features Kaja Veilleux, who’s the most entertaining and professional art auctioneer I’ve ever worked with. Tickets are available here.

Reserve your spot now for a workshop in 2025: