Better Later than Never

Look what I picked up from my studio table today—a paint quilt exercise I did in 2016!

monostripes paint quilt; exercise for online Jane Davies course
October 2016

I'd uncovered it two weeks ago—in a folder in a stack of folders in a drawer—and set it on the table. When I received a postcard from my granddaughter Emmy two days ago, the exercise jumped off the table and begged to be prepped for her.

Here's what I wrote when I created this start three years ago:

In traditional pieced quilts, fabric is used from cast-off clothing that is still good enough to be repurposed. The quilts are a means of making something useful and often beautiful from leftovers. They are improvisational in the sense that the quilt maker does not buy new fabrics for the quilt.

A 'Paint Quilt' such as the one featured above is a piece made from leftover paint from another painting. No planning ahead, no squeezing out fresh paint. I was directed to use only paint leftover from the monochrome-stripes lesson I'd worked on.

As I noted at the time, I didn't 'finish' this piece in any way, and it read as unfinished when I looked at it.  My intention was to play with it further, possibly cheating by squeezing out new paint, and for sure using ink or pastels before later sending it as a postcard.

Well, sure enough, today I 'played with it further,' and made it into a postcard—three years 'later.' No new paint per se. Just paint markers, pastels, and collage. Off it goes to Emmy!

Life's Simple Pleasures
4 x 5" postcard, acrylic, pastel, and collage on card stock
abstract
2019

The Quantum Leap

Here's what's resonating, lifting me up:

To tap into the creative power 
of our minds, 
we must release 
our belief that
we need to know 
how 
first. 
We must make a quantum leap 
from separation thinking 
into the unified mind 
where all things are known.
As we make this leap,
we must trust that, 
in the moment we choose it,
we will create, receive, 
or teach ourselves
the tools we most need to learn.
                              —Tatiana Sakurai

I am trusting.

Monhegan Island work in progress,
incubating

Monhegan Island work in progress,
incubating

Monhegan Island work in progress,
incubating

Up the Dirt Lane

For three mornings, this was my practice: walk up the main dirt lane of Monhegan Island from my cottage to artist Judy's with complete sensory delight in early morning sun and early morning air; paint and talk and observe and ask questions and stumble along with brush in hand on the big tarp-covered deck in summer’s full glory, barefoot, with salt air and the sun's keen warmth kissing my skin; and two or so hours later walk part-way back down the lane to meet my dad for coffee at the Black Duck Emporium. 

on the way to Judy's

on the way to Judy's

on the way to Judy's

on the way to Judy's

I intentionally brought not one single supply other than a pad of Canson paper, opting to step out of my usual habits and away from my default comfort zone. 

I landed precisely in my discomfort zone. 

I felt awkward, herky-jerky, at sixes and sevens. But I got some paint on paper. 

some paint on paper

some paint on paper

The Story of Artist Judy and the Ice Cream

One day last August on Monhegan Island with my dad, we met a friendly outgoing woman—an artist named Judy—who struck up a conversation with us as we walked down the lane and she walked up. She invited me to visit her where she was staying. The following day I ventured back along the route to Lobster Cove to find Alison Hill Studios and reconnect with Judy. We had a grand time talking art for about 45 minutes. Fascinating woman, about 75 y.o. She and I nurtured an ongoing email friendship during the year. At one point this spring she asked if we’d be returning to Monhegan and I told her that if we did it was my fantasy that she and I’d arrange to paint together. She immediately said yes. My dad and I did decide to go to Monhegan again, and Judy and I made plans to spend some time each day painting together.

She stays for three weeks on the island, traveling up from Philly, and ships all her considerable art materials to and from the island. I wrote to ask her what she'd recommend I bring by way of supplies since I'd be carrying them by hand on the ferry with the rest of my luggage. She wrote back, suggested a particular brand, size, and type of paper, said please use any and all supplies I will have, and went on to enumerate all her supplies. 

Whoa! 

In response, I thanked her for her open heart and generosity and asked how I could honor her generosity in return: cold hard cash? a gift of some supplies to greet her when she returns home? some other wish I might fulfill?

She replied immediately: 

cheers, indeed. yes i do have a wish list. and you are going to laugh out loud. i would like you to carry a freezer filled with as much as possible gifford’s peppermint ice cream with chocolate jimmies. it has to be gifford’s or nothing at all. that would so make me happy if you could bring me my most favorite childhood treat. thanks and thanks again.

 

Holy moly! 

She named a few suggested places to try but they weren't on the route we take! So I did a bunch of crazy research, leading to phone numbers no longer in service, stores that have closed, stores that used to carry Gifford's but switched to Hershey, stores that sell Gifford's but not peppermint, etc. My search took me farther and farther away from our Port Clyde ferry slip, meaning more and more hours to keep ice cream from melting. 

Yikes. 

In the end, I connected with Michelle at Sugar Shack in Bethel where my dad lives, and I knew Michelle was my gal. She totally got the mission and became my partner in crime. When I went to Sugar Shack once in Bethel, my order was right there waiting for me. Michelle had frozen it hard for 24 hours at Sugar Shack and even supplied me with freezer packs. I tucked it in my dad's freezer overnight, packed it last minute in a cooler surrounded by ice packs, duct-taped the cooler shut so it wouldn't open when tossed around by those loading the ferry, and crossed my fingers that it would weather the nearly six-hour trip ahead.

Judy met us at the dock on Monhegan and I delivered the goods.

The next morning Judy and I met to paint. Results of ice cream mission: SUCCESS! Judy reported that:

(a) the Gifford's peppermint stick confection was just slightly soft at the very outer edges, and

(b) she indulged in her first serving of delight almost immediately, holding it right under her chin so as to minimize the amount of time and effort needed for each spoonful to get from bowl to mouth!

Judy's painting space and works in progress

Judy's painting space and works in progress

my own work in progress #1, responding to first marks

WIP #2, responding to first marks

WIP #3, responding to first marks

Landed in a Lively

You may remember that I vacationed on Monhegan Island in Maine a year ago with my dad, that we landed in a lively conversation with a woman we passed on the lane who turned out to be an artist, that she invited me to pop over to her outdoor studio space—which I did.

Just returned from a four-day repeat vacation on Monhegan Island in Maine with my dad during which I spent parts of three mornings on the tarp-covered deck at Alison Hill Studio in magical summer-sunshine-summer-sky-summer-breeze, painting with artist Judy of last year's lively conversation on the lane. The lively conversation continued, and paint started finding its way to paper.

First marks:

Winging, Wondering

What does it mean to have a painting style?

I don't know.

Accustomed to a Chorus of Meadowlarks Over the Blackjack Hills
4x6" postcard; acrylic, pastel, and collage
abstract
2019

Steadfast

These homesteaders fought long and hard to get and keep a toehold on this patch of land, fending off wreckers, developers, and other bullheaded, short-sighted demolitionists hell-bent on 'progress' and 'improvement.' With patience and the long view they turned the earth, seeded, reseeded, tended, cultivated, and protected, called to steadfast stewardship, never wavering when it appeared that all might have been lost.

Everything There Seemed to Belong Where It Was
4x6" postcard; acrylic, pastel, and collage on drawing paper,
mounted on card stock
abstract landscape
2019