Join me in Ipswich, MA next week at the Hall-Haskell House art gallery, 36 South Main Street, Ipswich, MA. I will be sharing my latest works as well as some new amazing gift items for upcoming fall and holidays.
Hours:
Thursday, September 22 - Sunday, September 25
11-5
The Wayside Inn has been a historic staple of Sudbury, Massachusetts since 1716. Now it is named for the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow who ended up writing one of his most famous works “Tales of the Wayside Inn” almost 150 years later. Although the Civil War was raging, this Inn was already more than a century old with creaking floor boards and stories packed in every inch of the space.
Longfellow stayed at the Inn while he was mourning the passing of his wife and facing debilitating anxiety from the war, his loss, and his own writer’s block. Perhaps this is why I am drawn to this place now. There is something so relatable about this story of Longfellow trapped in his room at the Inn, waiting for the war to end, waiting for his heart to mend, and praying that his heart will heal not only him but others as well. Places like the Wayside Inn allow us to reach across time to relate to and connect with the people before us who thankfully memorialized the energy and culture of their day in their art so that we could internalize the lessons and co-create brighter days ahead.
There is so much that can be derived from allowing the natural organic expression of the surroundings to just be. Why have a fully manicured lawn when you can be surrounded by wildflowers and vines? Let…it…grow. This painting reminds me that it is okay to allow nature, people, the world, even myself to surprise me.
For this post, I am continuing on the journey of reflecting upon the paintings that rose up out of my heart this spring which ultimately became the Raindrops and Blooms collection. This painting was originally a study in composition and color. I wanted to see how to create feeling from the flow of a path or the direction of the flower. I tried different versions of this in black and white and sepia to try and learn more about tone and value. It was all very academic. And I think I’ve already fallen asleep, have you?
Then about half way through this painting I got frustrated. I began just feeling the need to add color in, to see the blues and yellows pour onto the page. I didn’t feel like being measured and precise about shadow and light. I realized very quickly I needed to allow this sudden burst of energy and emotion to move through me and onto the page without argument. What was once a tame garden became wild not because that’s what was planned but because that’s what was unplanned. The wildflowers needed to be there just as strongly as I needed to allow them to be. I watched a tame and prim little cottage and yard begin to grow vines and its path lit up with flowers and golden sun. It was as if the sun and flora had emerged through paint telling me to let go and surrender to the unknown of natural beauty. At the end I saturated my brush in blue and splashed it on the door. The door wanted to be blue and who was I to fight with the will of the paint? All of a sudden it felt complete and I could put the brush down at last.
