Here in Maine

Simply said

 there is no place

I'd rather be instead

quite out of the race,

than where I am

here in Maine

as happy as a clam

although, I'll admit, a bit insane.

Here in Maine • 8" x 8" acrylic framed to 12" x 12" • $200

claudia diller: Shanty

claudia diller: Shanty: Not so long ago there used to be a lot more of these little shantys along the shorelines of Maine's islands - we used to see them everywh...

Shanty

Not so long ago there used to be a lot more of these little shantys along the shorelines of Maine's islands - we used to see them everywhere we went sailing. Unfortunately, they are either slowly disintegrating, being renovated into Martha Stewart's "The Maine Fisherman Shack Edition," or being replaced by MacMansions - huge, horrible-looking edifaces exhibiting an insensitive disregard for the environment and community in which they sit. Wow - that was harsh, and actually this type of thing has been happening for centuries, so what's new?

Anyway - we passed this one a couple of weeks ago during our jaunt around North and Green Islands. I used to ponder throwing in the towel and taking up residence in something like this. You know - living off the land, no electricity, no heat, no running water, fishing, selling a painting once in a while to buy and maintain some chickens. That kind of thing.

Thank heavens I didn't. Someone would have found me mummified with my eyeballs plucked out by mutinous chickens. Though I write this in jest, it might have made for some interesting late night storytelling (in an otherwise pretty dull biography) for my grandsons, whose birth I would have totally missed now that I think of it.

It was lovely seeing this one holding its own in a tide of eminent change. Whether eminent ends up being good or not is in the arms of the future. In the meantime, I really wanted to witness and document something special the only way I know how, just in case it's gone the next time we come around.

Shanty • 8" x 8" acrylic framed to 12" x 12" • $200

claudia diller: Orange Cat on a Fence on the Hill

claudia diller: Orange Cat on a Fence on the Hill: As you can well imagine, there are all kinds of cats roaming around up here on the Hill. I've written about this before. Some are pretty t...

Orange Cat on a Fence on the Hill

As you can well imagine, there are all kinds of cats roaming around up here on the Hill. I've written about this before. Some are pretty tough looking with half their ears missing, matted fur and gnarly dispositions. Others have collars and seem to be well cared for. None of them seem to be too scrawny however, so there must be a healthy rat population or a lot of feline sympathisers.

This is a quick sketch of one of my favorite acquaintances. He or she doesn't have a collar and is a bit thin, but he must belong to someone because he's so darn friendly and I usually see him hanging out in the same area (I have changed his haunt to protect his identity and figured I might as well paint him in a place that I think best suits his personality).

Unlike many of the cats up here, this one always trots over to greet me. The first time I ran into him he was sunning himself on a fence. I really wanted to take more shots, but he jumped right down and mosied over to rub himself against my leg and cop a scratch. Now if I catch him somewhere and want to take photos, I have to pretend I don't see him, slowly walk by, snapping as I go or use my telephoto lens from outside his view.

Most of the time though, I stop and catch up on the local gossip. It's astounding what goes down up here, he says. I couldn't agree more, I reply.

Orange Cat on a Fence on the Hill • 8" x 8" framed to 12" x 12" • $200

claudia diller: Mackerel Fishing Off the East End

claudia diller: Mackerel Fishing Off the East End: Sometimes I don't get to the post office until later in the afternoon. I generally walk down Congress Street to the Forrest Avenue statio...

Mackerel Fishing Off the East End

Sometimes I don't get to the post office until later in the afternoon. I generally walk down Congress Street to the Forrest Avenue station. It takes about a half hour and is always illuminating. Congress is like a human street fair - there’s all kinds of bizarre stuff going down all of the time. (Oops, I seriously didn't mean to imply that all kinds of bizarre stuff was going down in THE Congress).

On my way back, I'll sometimes stop at the museum if it's still open to get a little cultcha, then head down High Street, cut through on Pleasant to Fore and down to Commercial Street to observe the touristas. Commercial is a different kind of scene from the one up on Congress. It's not as freakish but a lot more amusing. When the bait trucks used to load up at the docks, it was always great fun to catch a tourista dry heaving to the aroma of rotting fish. Even more fun nowadays is watching a gull flipping a dead fish around in the middle of the street. The reaction of those in search of their idea of the real Maine, to the actual real Maine, is always a good show.

Eventually I'll meander back up to the Hill along the river by Portland Yacht Services to check out the boats and what the local fishermen are catching. Casting off the rocks for mackerel, and once in a while a striper, these local fishermen are by no means the romantic version or vision with their coolers and brown bags. But it's kind of mesmerizing to listen to them cussing at each other in anticipation of hooking one before the other does. 

Mackerel Fishing Off the East End • 8" x 8" framed to 12" x 12" • $200