A weighty gray November day. Our small house on the hill is encased in a shroud of fog. Heavy rain falls. Off and on. No snow. Vermont in December is destined to be bathed in white and not mist…
Working in my studio this Saturday is not unlike many other weekends. Signs of a busy artist or simply a busy mind surround me. I suppose one is a requirement for the other. The warm glow of my grandfather’s “vintage” desk lamp comforts me as I lay out my palette…
A large painting awkwardly rests on my easel. Burdened by the size two tables are employed to support the oversized canvas. I adore painting on a large surface. The opportunity to explore the expanse of pastures and mountains offers an energy that I can’t put into words. A special commission for a local friend. The composition boasts a dreamlike pastoral quality. Telling the story will require an unknown number of hours but the artistic journey to capture the moment will be magical…
My printed short story decorated with an editor’s notes is splayed across my desk. Expanding scenes and rearranging paragraphs is yet to be accomplished. Drafts and rewrites. A collection of short stories. Loosely capturing moments in my own life. Fiction…
Spread across my studio’s hickory wood floor are charcoal drawings. Studies. My granddaughter illustrated during various moments of her young life. Captured in charcoal. Easily they could turn to dust. I am reminded to “fix” them. Precious moments. A few weeks ago, while in my studio wearing her footed flannel pajamas, she approached the drawings and was delighted by the number of images she saw. Belle’s eyes sparkled and with her small hand pressed against her chest she excitedly exclaimed “me!”
Since before my granddaughter was born, I was determined to document moments in her life for however long I am granted to do so. The simple moments captured in writing and in paintings. A moment in her mother’s lap reading. Holding her father’s and a grandfather’s hand as they walked down the street. The essays will never be on bookstore shelves and as for the paintings they will hang on family walls only…
“It was an unforgettable painting; it set a dense golden halo of light round the most trivial of moments, so that the moment, and all such moments, could never be completely trivial again.” ― John Fowles, The Magus
