Friday, September 18, 2020

#398 • Frozen in Sweat

  

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You gotta love the seasonal change here in Maine. One day you're drowning in your own sweat - the next you're encased in it. I would suspect that the next surprise will be a week of 90 degree temps in October. We've seen it before.

Does Mother Nature suffer from multiple seasonal personality disorder - a result of our meddling in her affairs? Or do we human beings simply refuse to believe we don't control everything and continue to be amazed and surprised - in denial, every freakin' year that when things don't go as we think they should, there is something terribly wrong? 

 Such a great life lesson - every year!

Frozen in Sweat • 8" X 8" watercolor framed to 12" X 12" • $250

Thursday, September 3, 2020

#396 • Face Masks

 
 

I've seen some beautiful face masks lately. For a long time I wore those disposable phthalo blue green shade medical masks. They are everywhere in my spaces, appearing, disappearing and re-appearing like socks in the dryer. At this point I'm guessing some of them might be months old. Nevertheless, I now own two cloth masks. The patterns weren't my first pick - I got to the sale basket too late, but they're pretty cool anyway, and I'm supporting a local entrepreneur. 

In the meantime, I'm seeing Mother Nature in her mask. She's protecting herself from us I think. She's wearing a lovely one right now - a lush green abstract against a blue bird sky. She's trying to set an example for visitors to Maine this long Labor Day weekend. Stay socially distant and wear your masks folks!

Face Masks 8 8" X 8" watercolor framed to 12" X 12" • $250

Monday, August 17, 2020

#395 • A Safe Place

 

 

Everyone is looking for a safe place these days. Kind of feels like Maine is being sucked up by ETs who are trying to escape the ruined planet they left behind - leaving their less fortunate neighbors forced to deal with the aftermath.

For those who have been working on their spiritual programs for a while, our safe place, we are told, is in our heart and mind first, and then from there we now have the tools to create it "out there." But what if your "out there" safe space is no longer safe? What if no "out there" space is safe no matter where you run to. Scary isn't it!

Can artists help deal with fear by creating safe looking spaces for those who can't or don't know how? Does that help, or are we perpetuating a Ozzie and Harriet image that doesn't exist, and never did? Do we comment on the scary stuff - document it so it doesn't get repeated in the future. Or do we artists need to simply share our own truth - how we deal with fear. 

I've seen places like the above. I know they aren't what they appear to be, but they make me feel better when I imagine them. Is that okay? Can we just imagine these places as a possibility? Can they help us remember, albeit naively, what a safe place might look and feel like? Do these images help us all aspire to re-create this planet as a safe place for everyone?

I hope so.

A Safe Place • 8" X 8" watercolor framed to 12" X 12" • $250

Monday, August 3, 2020

#394 • Life's Too Short



I've been kind of screwing off this summer. Sailing and gardening a lot, though gardening does have some redeeming qualities. I would argue sailing does too because it inspires me to do what I do for work. I think it's a COVID thing - life's too short.

Life's Too Short • 8" X 8" watercolor framed to 12" X 12" • $250

Monday, July 27, 2020

#393 • Chawing

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I have no idea where this whimsical little sketch of two fishermen chawing, especially during a less than whimsical time, came from. Maybe I'm trying to balance myself out.

Chawing • 8" X 8" watercolor framed to 12" X 12" • $250

Tuesday, July 21, 2020

#392 • Coastal Memory

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It's been a foggy summer along the coast of Maine this year. We've tried to get used to navigating through it, but you never get used to the fear of hitting something out there.  It's a bit freaky to hear a ferry boat but not see it, or be surprised by a big white sail as it suddenly appears out of the fog without a sound like a ghost ship.The worst is sailing through one of those shipping lanes that crisscross the bays. You hope to hell they are making a lot of noise because they're certainly not going to consider us anything more than a speed bump.

So...this sketch is one of my mental meanderings trying to remember what the coast looks like on a good day along the coast. We call them real estate days, and this is one of those paintings that sell real estate to unsuspecting folks from away, sad to say!

Coastal Memory • 8" X 8" watercolor framed to 12" X 12" • $250