Saturday, December 31, 2011


I like taking a page or two from Joyce, Carroll and Swift to make words up - long ones - especially in a time of abbreviated postings, texts and tweets....

I run by this part of the Potash Brook almost every week and as the weather has gotten colder (still no snow) the icestallations around branches, rock and leaves grow and begin to assume their own lives. I had intended to put my boots on and photograph them in their crystalline glory, but holidays and balmy weather conspired against me slipping away and into the icy waters. Today, I was pleasantly surprised by the way they assumed a new life, having been warmed, and then re-frozen...There are now opaque, dripping forms that had some crystalline, cellular structures overlaying that milky white interior. Where before, light could refract through them, to distort the images of what lay beyond, the icestallations had become their own and in doing so formed haunting colonies of the still and quiet suspended above the rushing and chaotic. That's a beautiful poem for me this New Year's, to stay close to the chaotic and powerful currents of life, and craft my form from that seductive energy.

Happy 2012!

Monday, December 12, 2011



 There's poetry to it. To me, the resemblance of limestone to human bone engenders a connection that's visceral and magical. As old sea beds, limestone reveals former inhabitants; shells, fish and other aquatic life. Like the wonder I feel when I walk on a frozen pond - I never tire of the sensation that I am walking where I would not have been able to walk before. This limestone has a creamy texture, slightly alkaline on my hands, a soft, soapy feeling that is novel in my ecosystem where acid and rough quartz dominates.This limestone came from Kansas, more exactly, from the sidewalk leading to an Opera House somewhere there. I smile when imagining people spilling out from Tosca, or Carmen onto these rectangles - their bodies filled with arias and stories set to song. I'd like to think that over the years, the music may have made it's way into the stone. I get the feeling that there's more Magic Flute than Ring Cycle in this stone.

The layering of story in the stone, the sea beds, the Opera, and now here, compels me. True, everything has a story. However, there's a power to hearing a narrative from someone, seeing evidence of that narrative in an object and then integrating it into an installation that just does not exist in many pre-fab or over-designed objects these days. The imperfections of chisel marks and wear indicate that these stones were connected to people, the ones that mined the stone and the ones that walked the stone. Salvage materials, antiques, slow food, herbal medicine, these are ways of connecting to deeply satisfying feelings of humanity and the powerful stories that we all carry within.

The limestone patio space is about 450 square feet. The generosity of the stone size creates a bold pattern that relates to the strong lines of the house. Having the patio at ground level creates a more instantaneous connection to the landscape than the previous wood deck did. The renderings illustrate the anticipated final result. The columns that resemble those on the front porch, would support red triangles of canvas that could be rolled and unrolled like a sailing jib, as the weather dictates.The following photos are at the intermediate stage of installation, as well as some details of the beautiful shells and chisel marks. I'll include photos of the finished installation in the spring.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Art Show

The art show at Meekins came down the other day. 

It's always easier to undo something like that than it is to put it up. Perhaps in amongst all the contributing elements to the challenge of installation are the butterflies so present before the opening of the show. I truly enjoyed the experience of seeing my work up and in the world. Pictures framed, in a dedicated space for showing and with others from the same series gives a new context to the work. Having them all there where I could see them from a distance and in different light gave me a new understanding of my work from my own perspective and, most importantly, from the feedback people gave me. It's funny how easy it is lose myself in the minutia of my mind. I loved hearing and seeing peoples reactions to the paintings - and I re-learned that those responses compel me to paint and make stuff as much as my personal need to understand and honor the world around me. 

So, Thank you to everyone who came to the show and helped get it together.