Motel on 302 (study)

Starting a new painting requires "confident groping", or maybe it's "tentative decisiveness". That's the acceptance that there'll be moments of abject uncertainty about both the image conceived, and the ability to develop that image to a successful completion, while at the same time believing absolutely in an idea that exists only in mind's eye.

Woman in a Garden

Now that I'm home again in my studio, here's one last painting (an experiment in the style of the "Douanier Rousseau") brought back from the past before I dig in for a new series of work and a long winter.

Floodline

A gray day, and piles of dead wood pushed by high waters against winter's trees.

Vine and Bramble (detail)

While I've been going through some things at my mother's house, I've come across reams of my drawings from art school days. Here's a painting of seed pods brought in from a field I've now forgotten, years ago, in another autumn.

Sunday Sketchbook: Road Trip

I'm on my way to Washington, DC to deliver the NRECA commission--and hopefully have some time to explore museums. It's a beautiful cool, sunny day, perfect for a drive down Route 2, through the Mad River Valley, and due south.

NRECA Commission

My approach for this mural is "WPA Meets Post-Impressionism"--a stylized landscape combined with vivid color shapes. Click here to see more images from this project.

When I'm in Paris this spring, I'm going to see Raoul Dufy's mural about the history of electricity, and try to figure out how he managed to design a similar narrative in his wonderful decorative style--that's over 120 feet long!

NRECA Commission

For the next ten days I'll be an artist resident at the Vermont Studio Center, where I'm working on finishing a commission for the National Rural Electric Cooperative Association. My painting is a forty foot long landscape with a winding road (with power lines!) spanning coast to coast. I've enjoyed the chance to work like a WPA artist, finding a stylized, decorative language to state the organization's goals and history.

Sunday Sketchbook: Montreal

I've been leading a workshop with Karen Kane in Montreal this weekend, touring studios and painting exhibits with a group of fellow art lovers. We've seen varied and exciting work, from academic realism to installations--and we also enjoyed sampling the wonderful selection of food that Montreal has to offer. It's an accessible, vibrant city that I hope to keep exploring in the coming years.

Sky and Maples

Looking up past a bank of orange foliage, towards blue sky and cumulus clouds.

Mom Napping

I drew my mother many times over the years, sleeping, knitting, reading, or just posing patiently. The dress she's wearing here, 25 years ago, the gesture of her hand in her hair, the turn of her leg--all bring her back to me so vividly.

Portrait of a Woman

In loving memory of my mother, Ruth Grace Abbott.
March 19th, 1920-October 14th, 2009

Fields and Mountain, Stormy Morning

A constantly changing sky creating constant shifts in light and shadow across the landscape.

Bowl of Plums

A paper bag of plums bought from an elderly lady with an old fruit orchard in her back yard; a bowl from an Iowa hardware store; a handkerchief from a thrift shop in Vermont. Maybe objects can speak their memories in a painting.

Bend in the Road

A look up Hollister Hill Road on an October afternoon.

River through Plainfield

I painted this as a demonstration for my landscape workshop that finished yesterday. When I teach, I'm always harping on the point that art is a process not a product, and that for even the most experienced artists, every painting is a touch-and-go experiment in coaxing form out of the nothingness of white paper or canvas.

Pond and Rocks

All of a sudden the color of maple, aspen and birch are at their most vivid, and we're in the midst of brief and beautiful autumn.

Cloud Shadows across Mountain

Fast moving sunlight and shadows across the mountain during a morning break from cloudy weather.

Clouds and Marshmallows

Changing leaves, changing weather, and hay bales waiting for winter.

Between Trees

Autumn has arrived since my last "From the Hill" study, and with this season there's a whole new range of oranges, violets and greens to mix from three primary colors.

Sunday Sketchbook: In Transit

I'm in Vermont after weeks of travel and teaching, and looking ahead to some more of both--but today I'm happy to be home on a damp autumn Sunday. I'll make sauce from a bushel of my apples, dig the last bed of red potatoes, and then come in, pick up my brush and see if I can find my way back to painting again.

Arbor in Sun

The stone bench seen from another angle, and with another way of looking.

Stone Bench and Faucet

There are many lovely views at the Riverfarm gardens in Alexandria, but what grabbed me were these angles, curves, planes, and half-hidden coiled hose.

Garden Paths

This week I'm teaching a landscape class in Alexandria, and, as is usual, my theme is "truth is stranger than fiction". There's so much more color, pattern and form in nature than we ever imagine, until we go out and start looking.

Sunday Sketchbook

I'm in Washington, DC teaching for ten days. This weekend it's a travel sketchbook class, which is always a reminder for me of how much I like the voyeurism of looking at other people's journals.

Apple Trees

Morning light on the little orchard planted when I first moved up here on the hill.

Trees and Goldenrod

From the lower meadow, looking up and over a bordering ridge.

Looking West

In the early 1800's the great British landscape painter John Constable said, "There is room in the world for a natural painter." I think that's still true today. So in the spirit of the master Constable's plein air paintings, I'm starting a new journal series, "From the Hill." My rules: all work is outdoors and subjects within walking distance of my studio; pigments used are a triad of oil colors (any three primaries); size is 6" x 8" or smaller; and paintings are finished in under two hours. My goal: a regular meditation of sitting quietly and looking carefully.

Harbor Fog, Maine

Forms emerging from the water and sky, pushed slightly into color.

Maine Marsh, Early Evening

I've been reading a "how-to" book for writers, curious about whether their process compares with the ways painters work. The mantra of this manual is "edit, edit, edit." I was thinking about that lesson, and about how difficult it is to communicate the simple but powerful things I see (like marsh grass lit by the last of the day's sun) as I was painting this.

Seal Cove, Late Afternoon

Coral sky, sunset rock and celadon water.