B L O G

THE CHOSEN ONE

Fri, 3 Feb 2012 07:30:11 -0500

Have you heard the new adage “children know best”... My son Finn (19) suggested that I begin the new year of posts by reflecting on the last. “Which painting or paintings stand out for you Mom, and why?... you know... I think people might like to know that”.

That is a difficult question. Not only because I feel strongly about many pieces, but also, there are a couple paintings that, as they have gone and come back from shows, I’ve become attached to. I would also prefer to let you come to your own conclusions and let the paintings speak from themselves. But here goes anyway--

Before I wrote these, I reread some of A.Wyeth’s comments about his work in ANDREW WYETH AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Brutally honest, he tells you things a museum docent doesn’t... “I like to paint in places that are not too nice. That’s why I like painting Helga. She’s not in love with the neatness of life or things.”
or “I painted a few pictures of pumpkins. But after I saw all the pumpkins that other people did, I stopped painting them. That ruined it for me. I don’t think I’ll do any more nudes either. I’ve seen too many since Siri and Helga. The imitators quickly take the charisma out of it.”
For me, not an entrenched Wyeth fan, this book actually made me more respectful of his work. I will try to be as honest.

(within the last year+)
WINTER GIFTS 1 AND 2
Walking in the early morning following a dusting of snow, there they were, bright red in contrast to all the grays and blacks of winter, berries between the smooth snowy rocks. It stayed with me and poured out almost like I was painting a figure, an elegance and curving in the berries and the stones.
(1 has sold, 2 is here)
VH WIND 2
Serene, calm, “my nature to want things less cluttered”, this glimpse from atop a wind turbine speaks to all this. It is the painting that Finn looks at from his bed (shown above) and gave me permission to share, even though “if anyone sees it in this space, they will want to buy it” he tells me.
(VH WIND sold, 2 is here)
ONE YEAR
Inspired by the swaying stand of trees surrounding us on the ridge, this painting swallowed me up and I wasn’t even aware I was painting. Thrilling. It needs to be seen in real life.
LESS
Came out of a dark time actually, feeling down and yet, it is so bright and warm, like feeding my soul something it needed.
(this has sold)

Honestly, I could keep going.
---------------------
At the risk of this week’s post being too long...
this weekend is Superbowl weekend. For those of you who could care less, it’s not too late to give it a chance. I know there’s a lot of hype and perhaps the world could and should be focusing on something more productive, but I am a believer in sports. Without sports, some children would have nothing to feel good about, to help them get strong, grow, gain confidence, learn resiliancy...
"Sports remain a great metaphor for life's more difficult lessons. It was through athletics that many of us first came to understand that fear can be tamed; that on a team the whole is more than the sum of its parts; and that the ability to be heroic lies, to a surprising degree, within."  ---Susan Casey
I may not think the game of football is as beautiful to watch as a game of lacrosse which to me is poetry on the field, but it’s got strategy and tactics like a chess game and watching the guys who love it play is incredible. For any naysayers (or fans), this is a great article:
http://therumpus.net/2012/02/a-super-bowl-preview-for-people-who-don’t-watch-football/

I owe you a simple painting post next week. Cheers and GO PATRIOTS!

NINETEEN

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 09:20:55 -0500

2012© 24X48 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL

Today marks the completion of 2 years of weekly posts. The painting above was one that I started (and shared its beginning with you) in September of 2010 when Ilka was 19. I got to a certain place in the piece where I was stuck and feeling unsure, so I put it away, in the closet. It came walking into my mind recently, I knew exactly what to do.

Committing to this “sharing” with you is a wonderful experience. The sharing that you do back, a simple “hi”, a critique, poem... keeps me going --in the right direction! Thank you.

I think the quote from a year ago deserves repeating. It speaks to all, not only artists.
...”if you do not express your own original ideas, if you do not listen to your own being, you will have betrayed yourself.”

Rollo May, The Courage To Create

Listen, be well, dance often.
Laurie

CIGAR BOX #6 SNOW WOODS ©2012

Fri, 20 Jan 2012 14:57:55 -0500

7 1/4”X6 MIXED MEDIA
WITH SNOW TREES LITHOGRAPH
WITHIN

When the path is shoveled to your front door, the animals are fed, the bird feeder is full, you’ve told your children you love them,
then make a fire in the woodstove,
pour a cup of tea
into your favorite china cup,
read a poem.

The Winter of Listening

No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire,

what disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.

Even with the summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.

All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.

All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.

And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.
Silence and winter
has led me to that
otherness.

So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own.

~ David Whyte ~

RISING 1

Fri, 13 Jan 2012 13:46:38 -0500

2012© 6X6 OIL/BIRCH PANEL 150.

At the blink of your eye it changes,
but yet is still, like the line in T.S. Eliot’s poem,
“the still point of the turning world”.
We dread these short days
yearn for the light,
celebrate the passing of winter solstice.
But, this shortened window of time with light,
is an opportunity
to witness
the rising and setting
and all its beauty.

GROWING WILD ©2011

Fri, 23 Dec 2011 08:49:17 -0500

There’s something about the simple shapes of winter,
a leftover apple on a branch,
a poplar leaf holding on for dear life,
a red berry in a page of white.
Joyous color dancing on a calm and lovely December palette.

Thank you for your interest in my work and for your thoughts. I hope you’re enjoying this day, this moment!

3’7” x 2 1/2’ ACRYLIC CANVAS CLOTH

something stirring STILL

Thu, 15 Dec 2011 08:44:40 -0500

How do you overlook something so magnificent
day after day
welcoming you with a palette
so outrageous
a composition
so unique
But then how
do you make it any more amazing
by painting it
or trying to tell its story
without
seeming
trite
It may need to
just be.

ridge rising suns 8 days . lh . 2010©

dawn

Fri, 2 Dec 2011 15:35:52 -0500

For nearly a month I’ve been photographing the morning view from our hill.
It’s stirring.

I don’t know what will come of it, but I know something will,
sometime.

DRAWN ALONG THE SHORES OF MAINE

Tue, 22 Nov 2011 13:27:26 -0500

A little collection of drawings to keep you up to date. The calendar mearsures 5 1/2 x 4 1/4 and stands in a black metal easel. I like mine next to my computer! $10.50 (incl me tax). To ship, add 3.00. or, if you are close by, I’ll deliver to you.
Fine art cards available also.

AND UPCOMING SHOWS

POP
Dec 1st until Christmas
100 Commercial.Portland...
Artists to include Elise Ansel, Cynthia Davis, Joshua Foley, Lindsay Hopkins Weld, Winky Lewis, John Knight, me... and more!

5th ANNUAL CREATIVE ECONOMY SHOW
Nov 25-27 10-6:30 daily
Featuring the work of 48 artists/artisans in festive gathering.
21 Pleasant Hill Road.Freeport

COLD BLUE 2

Sat, 12 Nov 2011 13:21:44 -0500

COLD BLUE

Fri, 4 Nov 2011 12:28:12 -0400

The first snow
with it
a thousand
memories
flooding in
the still quiet white
telling stories
of angels sweeping arms
cold sliding cheeks
drooping pine branches creating
magical caves
as we walked
carefully with snowshoe feet
not wanting to talk,
too perfect
to disturb with
words.

LHadlock

©2011 7 3/4X7 3/4 oil/birch panel 200.

OCTOBER

Fri, 28 Oct 2011 12:02:53 -0400

©2011 18X36 OIL/BIRCH PANEL 1000.

“It is absurd to think of artists simply as ‘painting nature,’ as though they were only anachronistic photographers of trees and lakes and mountains. For them, nature is a medium, a language by which they reveal their world.”

Rollo May, The Courage To Create

And a poem for your thoughts on this clear fall day:

What to Remember When Waking
  In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake, coming back to this life from the other more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world where everything began, there is a small opening into the new day which closes the moment you begin your plans.  What you can plan is too small for you to live. What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough for the vitality hidden in your sleep.  To be human is to become visible while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others. To remember the other world in this world is to live in your true inheritance.  You are not a troubled guest on this earth, you are not an accident amidst other accidents you were invited from another and greater night than the one from which you have just emerged.  Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window toward the mountain presence of everything that can be what urgency calls you to your one love? What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky?  Is it waiting in the fertile sea? In the trees beyond the house? In the life you can imagine for yourself? In the open and lovely white page on the waiting desk?
David Whyte ©1999 Many Rivers Press

UNTITLED

Sat, 22 Oct 2011 11:11:45 -0400

©2011 5 7/8 X 9 3/8 CIGAR BOX

“We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric;
but out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry.

W.B. Yeats

CAMERON AND CARROTS

Fri, 14 Oct 2011 11:29:23 -0400

THANK YOU STEVE JOBS

Fri, 7 Oct 2011 07:08:45 -0400

I’m sitting at my imac writing to you via iweb to say thank you to a creative soul that gave us a gift.

I have had many exciting moments watching something come to life before my eyes thanks to his creations. It is even more striking when you enter a media lab, such as my daughter Ilka uses at St. Lawrence University... state of the art apple systems waiting for inspired creators to go crazy.

In the project I’m sharing with you today, Ilka used her ipod to play music from itunes, imported the individual pics to iphoto, and used imovie to build an awesome video. I hope you enjoy the 3+ minutes of crazy fun.

I hope he knew how much joy he has brought the world.

“Follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

Steve Jobs

PEAR 1&2 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 6X6 100.EA

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 09:31:39 -0400

“Fruits... like having their portrait painted. They seem to sit there and ask your forgiveness for fading. Their thought is given off with their perfumes. They come with all their scents, they speak of the fields they have left, the rain which has nourished them, the daybreaks they have seen.”
Paul Cezanne

FOG’S EDGE

Fri, 16 Sep 2011 16:13:18 -0400

©2011 16x16 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 600.

I like this about Milton Avery...

“He learned by the process of creating, and not everything was always planned out in advance. ‘In order to paint,’ Avery reflected, ‘one has to go by the way one does not know. Art is like turning a corner. One does not know what is around the corner until one has made the turn’”.

Hobbs, Robert. Milton Avery. Hudson Hills Press, Inc., NY, 1990.

As summer comes to a close, I’m thinking about open skies, simple, stark, lovely views, snowy mountains... what’s to come.

MORNING ROWS

Thu, 8 Sep 2011 10:08:16 -0400

Where have you been?!
On morning rows, sails, soaking up my kids who have now gone off to college... adjusting to a different life.

During my first 2 years of art school, we had life drawing every other morning... or was it every morning? I would take that brisk walk or bike to the Calderwood building with giant portfolio in hand, enter the white walled echoey old bakery which was filled with the smell of strong coffee and toasted bagels, and an energy that crept into every inch of your body. Standing at that easel for 2 hours, I would disappear into a pool of contentment. My favorite drawings were the ones that our instructor, Veronica Benning, would say “20 seconds”. Pow. 20 Seconds. That is when it becomes only a stream from within. You do not think. You draw. And that immediacy is what you strive for so often, but miss it.

Nearly every weekend of the summer, we stay on our boat. My early rising husband leaps out of our bunk, makes a cup of coffee for me and then we go for a row in the peapod, sometimes circumnavigating islands that can take us 2 hours or more. I sketch. He rows. Dog Zoe gets to swim and run along the shore. We’re all happy. The drawings are tiny glimpses of what I see as he rows smoothly and briskly and, like my favorites of Life Drawing, they are quick. The view before me is there so briefly. It is these little compositions that sometimes evolve to larger pieces, sometimes abstract, sometimes the simple shapes or the juxtaposition of the forms which call out.

A little window into the process... new work coming soon.

PS
MY WORK IS INCLUDED--
“CELEBRATE WOMEN ARTISTS IN MAINE”
OPENING - THOS. MOSER SEPT 14--6-8pm
http://www.thosmoser.com/news.detail.php?news_id=239

VH SHORE

Thu, 18 Aug 2011 10:52:34 -0400

©2011 24X24 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 500.

While visiting Islesford recently, the Postmistress (is that the correct title?) told a story about her love of reading, how it began with a love of mail and receiving a monthly subscription to a writer’s magazine. It was through this publication that she was introduced to Hemingway. He became her favorite writer. Her enthusiasm was captivating--she embodies, as her name announces, Joy!
Joy then went on to tell a story about Hemingway dining out with fellow writers. A bet was made that he could not write a 6 word story. He picked up a napkin from the table and wrote:
“For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”

From there, you can take off. Oh the possibilities!
In words, in paint, it’s about the essence.

If you find yourself writing 6 word stories all day today, I’m listening.

L

HORIZON LINE ©2011

Fri, 29 Jul 2011 13:04:00 -0400

36X18 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 2000.

I hope I haven’t already shared this with you... and, if I have, it won’t do any harm to reread it. It’s pertinent to many things we might be stumbling over/hesitant about-- writers, artists, builders... it might help you in whatever task you’re facing today!

It was written by Anne Lamont (on writing):
“So after I’ve completely exhausted myself thinking about the people I resent most in the world, and my more arresting financial problems, and, of course, the orthodontia, I remember to pick up the one-inch picture frame and to figure out a one-inch piece of my story to tell, one small scene, one memory, one exchange. I also remember a story that I know I’ve told elsewhere but that over and over helps me to get a grip: thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he’d had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead.
Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother’s shoulder, and said, ‘Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird’”.

LESS

Thu, 21 Jul 2011 11:34:08 -0400

and more.

©2011 16X16 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 400.

PIONIES ©2011

Fri, 8 Jul 2011 12:48:47 -0400

Foggy day.
Vinal Haven.
painting retreat.
the view
of
vibrant
peonies
stood
dancing
before me!

36X18 700.

ART SHOW

Fri, 17 Jun 2011 16:54:12 -0400

a varied and exciting show at a beautiful barn and home.
hope to see you.
L

FIELD JUNE ©2011

Fri, 10 Jun 2011 14:49:00 -0400

Fields...
A sea of buttery yellow.
Like never before.

24x36 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 600.

SPRING IN THE YEAR OF 2011

Fri, 27 May 2011 12:49:50 -0400

For many of us, spring marks a time of “working on boats”--it is certainly true for me. The canvas is teak rails, thwarts, soles...
My paint becomes “spar varnish”. So I’m failing you with a painting (on canvas) this week. Instead a picture of my brightwork and another message of spring...

Graduations. In fact this year our son Finn will be graduating and heading off to college in the fall. As I know all of you who are parents know, this time has been incredibly precious. It has gone by much too fast. And I’m happy and sad at the same time--a great combo for tear making!

During graduation time, there is this hum of advice all around-- commencement speeches, cards, and my favorite--the backs of yearbooks. Words of wisdom, poems, quotes, and notes are there just waiting for an earnest soul.

I went searching for one of my all time favorites this morning. We can all use a little well-wishing now and then, so this is for you.

“I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you want to go,
And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' till you find the window,
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,

But more than anything, more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

I hope you never look back, but you never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And you always give more than you take.”

Rascal Flatts

MIDNIGHT

Fri, 20 May 2011 07:36:00 -0400

©2011 36X36 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 2000.

I’ve loved working on this painting the past few days. It had sat unfinished in the studio for awhile (post 4/22) and I couldn’t wait to get back into it! The many days of fog and rain, though lovely in its own way, can sometimes take its toll on our spirits. But here I had these bold hues and warm movement before me, giving me great and beautiful “qi”!

The rainy days of this week have also brought back memories of sofa time with my kids reading a stack of books. Blanket in hand, Finn on one side. Head resting on my shoulder, Ilka on the other. Both completely still and listening intently. We would peer at cheerful illustrations of happy animals in imaginary lives and read words that just made you smile all over...
like this (from Pooh) for example:

“Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.”

Yes, a happy book and a sofa, two good things.
Take care.
L

THE SANDPIPERS

Fri, 13 May 2011 10:08:47 -0400

They are
joyous
in their scurrying.
They just have to be.

24X30 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 1000. ©2011
dedicated to ilka on her birthday week,
another joyous being who loves to scurry along the shore

SELF PORTRAIT

Fri, 6 May 2011 11:04:46 -0400

DEPARTURE

Sat, 30 Apr 2011 18:37:18 -0400

Once in awhile I feel the need to stare, see the light and hues and shadows before me, and paint. Simple joy.

LIME 6x6 acrylic/birch gallery panel 75. ©2011

MID STREAM AGAIN

Fri, 22 Apr 2011 17:16:53 -0400

A couple summers ago, our annual painting retreat was at a farmhouse on Vinal Haven. There was a long and wide front porch overlooking a sweeping meadow with a well worn path leading to a pier reaching out to the Fox Island Thorofare. How is that for breathtaking?! Every morning I would go out and set up my easel and paint from that vantage point, taking in the clear blue sky, the blue-green water, the veridian spruce trees edging the property.

My friend Annie, an incredible painter from Brooksville, came around the corner one day with all her supplies in hand and stood looking out at this resplendent scene for several minutes. She thoughtfully gazed and stared, contemplated, gazed some more, and then... she left. She turned around, went back inside the busy kitchen, full of color and streaks of warm sun. “It’s just too blue out here.” she said as her footsteps faded.

Yes, I have been referred to as the “blue lady” when people are wondering which artist I am at a group show. I love the calm, the cool, serene blues. But this week I am consciously seeing the warm in my surroundings. I’m thinking of Annie.

Last night is the perfect example. I woke up at midnight, the moon rising, a sea of red surrounding it. My painting is only just beginning, but I’m having fun.
Should I really show you paintings “mid stream”?! Not sure.

L

FAREWELL ©2011

Fri, 15 Apr 2011 13:44:33 -0400

This is a quiet painting. It is sort of an ode to winter, a goodbye for now. I’ve enjoyed the views atop our hill,
oaks and maples standing tall,
swaying gently,
the open sky.

Robert Frost said the trees
“have it in their pent-up buds /
to darken nature and be summer woods.”

36x36 acrylic/birch panel 1800.

STUDIO PEACE

Fri, 8 Apr 2011 13:43:17 -0400

As Eric Hopkins says, “I like the music crankin’ and I don’t think when I paint”.
That’s bliss I say.

As you can see I’m not really ready to post today, but here I go. As I was painting this morning and thinking about this I remembered, when I read Andrew Wyeth’s autobiography years ago, how honestly he laid down his words, flat out. No polish. I went to the bookshelf, opened ANDREW WYETH, a random page, and there it was, all relevant to my scene today. I was supposed to tell you this. Read it all. It’s good.

“...Betsy was amazed at the mess in my watercolor box--’I don’t know how you can work without knowing that all the tubes are in the correct place. Don’t you have to know where the reds, the blues are?” I said, “Ah, but not knowing is my secret.’
I like to be surprised when I pick up a tube. ... For example, once I grabbed a tube of Chinese white when I was looking for blue. I simply found the blue and used some Chinese white, too. The mixture produced a quality that was unbelievable.
This is something you could never tell an art student. ... You’re in the lap of the gods--almost like painting with you eyes half-closed. Sometimes I don’t want to see too clearly. You build up a kind of color that is purely an interpretation of the truth. Anything to get away from the predictable. ... Painting is all about breaking the rules. Art is chance. It’s like making love. Hell, you don’t have a written book for sex; it’s always spontaneous.”

Stay in touch.
L

110º ©2011

Fri, 1 Apr 2011 14:12:08 -0400

36X24 OIL ON CANVAS 1100.

“There is wind in the tree, and the
gray ocean’s
Music on the rock.”

-Robinson Jeffers

CAPTIVA

Fri, 25 Mar 2011 14:13:55 -0400

24X24 ACRYLIC/CANVAS 600. ©2011
it’s all about the sound.
it’s about the power, the motion,
the unpredictability.

it’s the c o l o r !

Just back from the Gulf of Mexico
on a borrowed boat,
with my wonderful family.
I missed you last week--hope you are welcoming the sounds of spring.
L

WRITING, MUSIC, ART / thoughts on

Fri, 11 Mar 2011 12:38:17 -0500

SNOW TREES 6X6 LITHOGRAPH ©2010

You know I often talk about music affecting my painting and it’s when the musician is letting go that I am swept away.

Last night I was in search of something captivating to read and it struck me, writing is no different. Not everyone can write in an honest, gutsy way that will take the reader to a different place or take them to the same place, but in a new light.

And, of course, the painter/artist is the same.

When you are in the creative realm,
you cannot be hesitant or free of risk.
When writers, performers, composers, painters...
step outside their comfort zone, but still proceed boldly with confidence, baring their soul, then (and I think only “then”) will the piece be compelling. It will be great.
And honest.
You will feel it. Something inexplicable will run through you.

I didn’t begin a new book, but I remembered a book from long ago that took hold in the first few sentences.

“The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them--words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”

Isn’t that a wonderful paragraph?
Let me know if you recognize it.

ps Admittedly, his books are not my usual reads and I didn’t finish it,
but the writing? Great!

POSSESSED

Sat, 5 Mar 2011 08:32:32 -0500

For the past several days I have been lost (immersed) in creating a movie for my son Finn’s hockey team. To me, movie making is a wildly exciting art form that touches many senses... the sound, the imagery, the story all coming together to take you away.

There was no time to paint. When I’m building a movie, it’s on my mind day and night. I lay awake thinking of options and what if’s. I sit at my computer on my big ball moving back and forth spellbound. “Possessed” my family calls it.

My one parameter -- “use lots of highlights” (said the boys). They love being on the outside looking in for a change. This made for a longer movie so don’t feel obligated to watch it all. But if you take a peak at parts of it, I hope you’ll get a sense of the joyous energy producing it evokes and the “love of the game” these boys have. It’s a sport of dedication, teamwork, speed. There is an amazing bond between the boys and the parents, the commitment is unyielding. Building these pieces into an art form was pure fun!

L

TO VIEW the movie in its entirety, go to:
http://gallery.me.com/lhadlock/100039

THE SOUND

Sat, 26 Feb 2011 14:07:58 -0500

DIFFERENT DAY 2

Fri, 18 Feb 2011 11:37:33 -0500

30X20 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL ©2011 1000.
It began as a quiet painting then, as my husband would say, “the sea breeze kicked in”.

My friend (and artist) Jenny is a master at thoroughly exploring a subject/place/interest. She will prepare her paper or canvas in advance knowing that she may work on 20 paintings that embody a common thread. This way of working allows you to open many doors, stay open to the process.
Though I don’t always work that way, I carry this image of her diligently following a path and it often influences me. The past few weeks I have painted from the same little sketch and photo and let the painting evolve.

Thank you for viewing.
And thank you to everyone who came to the opening at Thos. Moser! It was thrilling to see so many people gathered to look at art (and sip wine).

note:
Jenny’s current work is at June Fitzpatrick:
http://www.junefitzpatrickgallery.com/junefitzschedule.html

A DIFFERENT DAY

Fri, 11 Feb 2011 14:41:37 -0500

30X24 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL ©2011 1000.
My husband walked up to the painting I was working on last week and said, “Well, I really like the painting, but it doesn’t feel like the White Islands... you know that feeling when you’ve sailed from Muscle Ridge, 110º, with can #15 abeam, and there it is, that foamy green water, the motion, the color of the rocks just beneath the surface... that’s the White Islands”. Yeh, I know.

And he knows me, knows that it has everything to do with the essence of the place, ... and nothing to do with the shape of the tree of the point or the precise image I could steal with my camera anyway.

I’ll get it. It’s in my mind now. But then, I kept going in the direction I was going because it was a kind of edgy place and a friend wrote me saying the “little piece” I had attached last week was “hauntingly beautiful”. I had to stay there. It was a different day.

L

IT HAPPENED

Sun, 6 Feb 2011 15:46:33 -0500

I was painting. I was painting for an entire day and into the dusky part of the day when my hues seem warmer than they really are. When I saw the painting the next morning, only little pieces of it felt alive. I walked away. Sometimes you just have to. (note: I’ve posted one of the “little pieces” above.)

And so, now before me is a white, open, quiet, peaceful, welcoming panel to start anew. I deliberated in my mind--maybe no post. But, no, just checking in with you is a good thing.

The truth is I think I was being enveloped by winter and winter memories and not letting it into my work this week, thus an inner conflict. So I will embrace it for a moment and share some words I know will spark your own memories, an excerpt from Learning To Fall by Philip Simmons:

“Stevens had it right: ‘Snow sparkles like eyesight falling to earth’. Walking out to the top of the sloping field, my younger brother and I with the neighbor’s kids, we filled the night with our noise: boastful chatter, the dull booming of our molded plastic sleds held and struck like gongs. But there came a moment at the top of the field when we fell silent, looking down over that creamy slope toward the dark woods waiting at the bottom. In silence we lined up our sleds, lay flat on our bellies, noses just inches above the the snow. It was a sobering business, and that was how we wanted it. ... When the run was over, and I lay bruised and torn and unbearably happy, the silence would fall. And that’s when I would hear it: the winter wind, breathing from the mile of forest at whose edge I lay, that chill spirit mingling with my own breath rising in plumes toward the brilliant moon, the cold stars. ...
At such times I would know what Stevens wants us to know in another of his poems, ‘The Snow Man’: ‘One must have a mind of winter.../ And have been cold a long time...not to think/ Of any mystery in the sound of the wind’”.

L

including my recent work • THOS. MOSER . “Celebrating Freeport Artists”
opening . THIS Thursday . February 10 6-8:30
Hope to see you!

ONE YEAR ©2011

Sun, 30 Jan 2011 15:49:29 -0500

36X36 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 2400.
It has been one year and one day since I began posting a painting a week. My first “p o s t” was called “Connectedness”, painted in my mind, it roared onto the canvas with welcomed energy (I can’t always tap in to). This painting “One Year” has the same current. I’ve been at the easel without knowing it. You really have to stand in front of this, breath it in--in real life.

Like putting the screen door on each summer, this post marks the passing of time, a time that has gone by too quickly.
I have a paperback from MECA/PSA days The Courage To Create and within its yellowed, dog eared pages it says
...”if you do not express your own original ideas, if you do not listen to your own being, you will have betrayed yourself.”
I think I should keep going!

One year later, thank you all for your shared thoughts, poetry, simple hellos. It is tremendously inspiring! In fact, another kindred spirit shared this with me after reading the “Work in Progress” post.
I was going to save it for another day, but I can’t.
It’s too beautiful.
Enjoy! Be well and dance often.
L

(from dear Sue)
by Elinor Wylie-*

“Down to the marrow of my Puritan bones.....

I love the look, austere, immaculate,
Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones
There's something in my very blood that owns
Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate,
A thread of water, churned to milky spate
Streaming though slanted pastures fenced with stones.

*( a very long poem, Wild Peaches)

Fri, 21 Jan 2011 15:10:32 -0500

36X36 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 2400.

One day, a long time ago, I stood waiting in a windy field in Corinna, Maine holding on tightly to my Mother’s hand. I think I was probably 4 years old, since 3 seems to be my earliest memory and this is zooming into my mind not long after. It would have been 1962 (if so) and it was my grandmother Nana Bird’s home town Sesquicentennial celebration. I remember wearing a bonnet, riding in a parade, listening to local musicians, and generally feeling excited... and then-- in the field, worried. We were not world travelers and, at that point, I doubt I had even left the state of Maine. So my grandparents thought we should at least see our landscape from above. One of the many events going on that day was helicopter rides and there I was, waiting to be lifted high up over the wide fields and lakes.

The simplicity and pattern has remained forever etched in my mind. The precise stone wall lined fields looked like a quilt. I stared bewildered at little white dots in the middle of green squares and finally got the courage to ask what they were. Sheep. The lake was a smooth pool of blue.

It was serene. It was breathtaking. It was calming. Every time I’ve flown since, the memory vividly returns to make me smile.

Whenever possible I seek out glimpses from higher points. It’s my nature to want things less cluttered. You saw the beginning of this piece last week in my studio and today it comes to you with some finality,
maybe serenity and calmness too.

Sat, 15 Jan 2011 11:14:22 -0500

I was hoping to have this painting completed in time for this week’s post, but the perfect snow was calling “get out”! Now, as I step back and look at this view (another borrowed from my husband’s eyes atop a turbine), I realize the starkness and simplicity of the winter outside my window is seeping into the summer on my canvas.
And that’s just fine with me.

Other goings ons on the ridge--
the afternoon ritual of the silhouetted turkeys poking around the deep snow,
searching,
sun setting,
sky casting a blue hue
over the snow...
then the marvelous move to take flight, awkwardly spreading their wings,
working harder than I think they should have to,
only to take roost on a seemingly tiny branch in the cold and dark of night.

One of my kindred spirits (and weekly viewers) sent this quote to me last week.
Thank you Maria. Enjoy everyone.

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the
landscape - the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.
Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.”

~Andrew Wyeth 1917-2009

Fri, 7 Jan 2011 11:04:59 -0500

I needed to do more with this subject... and may do more still. They, the reds in the midst of gray January, are singing out!

In February, Thos. Moser will be having a show including my work--more soon.

The days ARE getting longer -- enjoy the light!

L

EVERY TIME YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES

Fri, 31 Dec 2010 10:09:28 -0500

Tomorrow is the beginning of 2011.
There will be opportunities to make a difference in someone’s life, possibilities to make this world a better world or simply be happy and appreciative of the life you live.
Of course, there will be some rough water. But you will get through it, eyes open or closed.

On the eve of this new year, I’m sharing a piece of art created by my daughter that has stirred my thoughts with its beauty and tragedy woven together.
note: play it full screen, volume adjusted, and loaded fully before beginning.

Dance often!
L

MOVIE PRODUCTION. ILKA HADLOCK ©2010

Sat, 25 Dec 2010 13:22:24 -0500

T I D I N G S ! The card. It’s a wonderful tradition. There are friends I have kept in touch with solely through the Christmas card. I’ve known something was wrong with a friend when we didn’t receive her usual woodcut print with handwritten note as we neared solstice. When I walk to the mailbox throughout December in crusty snow, northwest winds, fluffy drifts... I look forward to “the card”. Someone took a moment to think about us, jotted our name, gave us a “x,o” or a “love” or “happy holidays” wish and maybe even wrote a note in their unique and wonderful script. When else does this happen?

A friend sent me a tiny envelope one time and on it she wrote “don’t open this until you make a cup of tea and sit in your favorite spot”. I enjoyed every morsel of that sincere note. I bet you remember receiving a letter that you tucked inside your coat and ran to a place beneath a tree or sunny room so you could soak up the words by yourself. People write words in letters that they might not say aloud. They are like a gift.

The image above is the woodcut I made this year, inspired from a winter morning outside our bedroom. You cannot open it or walk to your mailbox in the new snow to retrieve it and I’m sorry about that,
but with it comes a wish to you for an open heart and happy mind.
And some “love”.

Laurie

GIFTS OF WINTER 24X48 ACRYLIC/BIRCH PANEL 1700.

Wed, 15 Dec 2010 18:12:12 -0500

Bold red berries have broken free
from their sturdy branches,
tumbled
to the ground
when we weren’t looking

and the first flake of snow fell from the sky
landing on the rocks
like a kiss.

LH

I missed you on Friday, a busy time.
Let the joy in!

CRUISING STUDY

Fri, 3 Dec 2010 11:33:33 -0500

gouache/paper 5”x5” 40. ©2010

Something is holding me back from jumping into winter... yet. The snow, the starkness, the cold, the simplicity of the horizons--all lovely. But first a snow flake needs to come drifting down to tell me to go there. Then I’ll take a deep, slow breath of the balsam, be calmed by the tiny clear white lights, ski across the white field, and embrace the season and all its gifts.

For today I’ll send you a little “cruising study” because we haven’t “jumped” yet. Our summer thoughts are lingering.
And also a poem that lives on a wall in our house, handed down to my husband, yellowed and proud in its antique frame.
The message you can carry around in your mind and soul.

One ship drives east,
and another west,
With the self-same winds that blow.
‘Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which decides the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea
are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life;
‘Tis the will of the soul
That decides its goal
And not the calm or the strife.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

p o s t of thanks

Mon, 29 Nov 2010 15:11:22 -0500

It happened. Friday came and went. My post stayed in the corners of my mind.

My daughter, a college sophomore and art/art history major came home for the week. We baked and prepared Thanksgiving dinner, ran together, planned for and cooked dinner and cakes for 24 guests for brother Finn’s surprise 18th birthday party, told each other what had been going on in our lives since August, laughed lots... and Ilka also designed and created a “Festive Feasting”, a little 4.25x5.5” holiday cookbook. Her vibrant collages and delicate drawings accompany each of the 11+ recipes.

It was a joy to watch her, in a trance like state, lay down color, then form, adjust, draw, paste... all the while with a look of contentment. This was it! The perfect holiday week post.

I am thankful daily for my children, especially thankful that they are dear friends and loving, creative souls.
I’m also thankful and grateful for your encouragement and critique! I hope you had a happy Thanksgiving holiday!

L

Festive Feasting mixed media $10.
©2010 ILKA HADLOCK

CROW 1 CB 5.5X8.25 MIXED MEDIA

Fri, 19 Nov 2010 15:00:14 -0500

Cigar box painting 5.5X8.25 acrylic/gold leaf

I love their simple forms in the trees and on the snow and their calling from above.
Don’t you wish you knew what they were saying?

Their intelligence will surprise you.
http://www.ted.com/talks/joshua_klein_on_the_intelligence_of_crows.html

CONNECTED C BOX 5

Fri, 12 Nov 2010 12:00:37 -0500

7.8X5 MIXED MEDIA 150.
inside . “SOLID GROUND” litho
©2010

There is something about
the leafless trees
their strength revealed
elegant limbs reaching
bare they allow
glimpses of a world
that’s been hidden
for half the year.

There is something about
the leafless trees
of black against
the clear, cool, and bright sky.
that is
magnificent.

lh

Some of you may have seen my “cigar box paintings”. I’m about to begin another series of them--my mind is being flooded with images. So today I’m bringing you one from my studio wall.

The boxes built far away, sturdy and lovely with their gold leaf paper designs are a treasure to begin with. When I paint them, sometimes leaving little traces of their original lives, they become more of a treasure. And then, inside I place another piece of my work...
like a secret.

Happy crisp fall days to you.