Wednesday, October 31, 2012
My Uncle Frank - mom's youngest brother - was really a kid in grown up clothing. The only exception was his uncanny ability to attract women. For some reason they flocked to him like sticky spiders - but that's another story. In the meantime, he spent some time with us when we were youngsters. He slept in my old bedroom, and come to think of it and for the life of me I can't remember where I slept in the meantime. Anyway, he had a TV in his room, so we would frequently barge in on him to watch whatever. The best part was we got to watch TV with him - he was an absolute blast. We loved him - still do. And he hasn't changed one single bit.
One night it was my job to call Uncle Frank for dinner. I walked down the hallway that led to the bedrooms and called out to him. I then walked back to the kitchen. After a while and with no Unk in sight, mom sent me back down the hallway to fetch him again. I called out louder, waited a minute at the head of the hallway, and when there was no response, marched down the hallway in a huff, threw open his bedroom door and called out to him again. He was sitting on his bed with a blanket over his head - his back was to me as he watched TV. This probably sounds strange to all of you, but whenever Unk watched TV, he would wrap himself up in a blanket. What was strange that night however, was that he had it over his head. I called a fourth time and when he didn't respond again I thought something terrible had happened to him - like maybe he had been inhabited by a zombie or something really funny like that. So I walked right up to him and shouted "Unk!" to try to scare the heck out of him.
Well just about the moment the "K" in Unk rolled off my lips, he threw back the blanket and revealed the ugliest, nastiest rubber Frankenstein mask ever made in the history of the universe and at the same time, growled a growl that has been forever implanted in my memory chip as the most realistic cross between a werewolf and a banchee I have ever heard. I jumped 12 feet straight into the air, screamed at the top of my lungs and ran breathless out of the room still a foot above the floor. It wasn't until I got back to the kitchen that I realized what had happened.
To this day I don't think I have ever been as scared by anything except the Excorist, The Shining and Jaws maybe. I will never forget that night and it happened at least 50 years ago!
I figured it would be fun to make some little kid's night out there just as memorable. Happy Halloween everyone. Here's to the greatest excuse to scare the hell out of someone you love.
Halloween Cat • 8" x 8" framed to 12" x 12" • $200
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
It would appear that Maine's tango with this Category 1 Sandy was less dramatic than it was for millions south of us. The sun was out earlier, and the winds have subsided a lot. We didn't loose electricity up here on the Hill, but our building sure swayed and shook for a while last night. I've been in our little, open, not self-bailing sailboat with winds gusting to 20-25. It's damn scary. On land 25-30 mph sustained, as it was yesterday, is not as bad unless you're dodging flying tree debris, which I was getting home last night. But, the thought of a 60mph sustained wind, or worse a 150 is beyond my comprehension.
The sensation I thought to be the weirdest was in the shower. I kept feeling like my body was, well actually, doing a tango, while my brain knew we weren't. Very strange. The toilet bowl water sloshed a bit too. That was more interesting - sort of like watching a micro ocean.
I hope all of those who have been effected by Sandy will get back to normal asap. This painting is a wish out to them for a much needed peaceful night.
A Wish For a Peaceful Night • 8" x 8" framed to 12" x 12" • $200
Monday, October 15, 2012
It also reminds me of how I could have lived away from the coast for so long. When I look up at those mountains I see infinity just the way I did when I looked out over the ocean as a kid. There's something about the concept of infinity that comforts me. Maybe it's because I know that as long as I can see infinity, I can see a way to blast off whenever I want to. It's also the mystical aspect - that there are still things out there we just can't grasp.
These days I am practicing how to feel infinity. I can feel it if I sit still, close my eyes and go into the universe that is my body. Some sources say there are over 50 trillion cells in my body. Others think there is closer to 100 trillion. In either case - it's infinity as far as I'm concerned. I practice this just in case I'm in a situation where I can't see it out there.
The Infinity That Is The Mountains • 8" x 8" framed to 12" x 12" • $200
Monday, October 8, 2012
Once in a while I wax nostalgic for the way I see Maine in my mind. I'm still stuck on the farms I saw when I first came to Maine as a teenager one summer over 45 years ago. There was a farm stand my mother used to stop by almost daily to get fresh produce. I'd never seen anything like it before - we always got our veggies at the grocery store. I was struck with the romance of it all. How special it was to be able to grow your own food - anybody could do it. Why didn't everybody do it I wondered? Of course I'd forget it all when I returned to Connecticut - glad to be back with my friends and the social life that was high school.
Since then I have had a garden whenever it could be worked out. I am still in awe of it all. I can't think of anything more incredible than picking my own veggie and eating it right there on the spot. Maybe it's the idea that the foot long carrot I am eating comes from a seed the size of a pin head. Amazingly, these little seeds don't eat like we humans do. They just absorb whatever they can from the dirt they are planted in. If you have the same notion and look at a handful of dirt at the same time, you too might think it's a freakin miracle.
Coming Into Fall • 8" x 8" watercolor framed to 12" x 12"• $200
Monday, October 1, 2012
Maine's undulating, zigzagging shoreline is 3,478 miles long with close to 3000 islands offshore. Take your pick and be in awe. This one was in The Reach off North Haven.
Islands in Maine • 8" x 8" acrylic framed to 12" x 12" • $200