Sailing
Every spring about this time, for a couple decades now, I can be found out in the puckerbrush, pulling invasive plants - and thoroughly getting into it. It occurred to me that there was something going on that was very much like painting.
Invasives, as you probably know, are generally plants that originate in other parts of the world, that adapted to different conditions which kept their encroachment in check but have few or no checks in place in our woods and back yards. So they can take over, often inhibiting native plant growth that provides wildlife with food and lodging. So, I’m out there with gloves and clippers, scanning for leaf shapes and leaf arrangement, head close to the ground as I reach for the base of the plant.
What escaped my notice for many years was the visual of the landscape, experienced up close like that. When we lived in Old Chatham, NY, my main adversary was Canada Thistle. I allowed grasses to grow tall where it thrived since it needed light to regrow, and once pulled, would be less likely to regenerate. On a hot and blindingly sunny day, when my head penetrated the grasses, a lot of changes took place: the light become gentle, the temperature dropped and humidity levels increased, the outer noise levels were limited, the fragrance was decidedly of plant decomposition, and the company I kept was many-legged. It was all quite intimate. And novel. I had entered another world. And sometimes it was hard to stay on task when there were so many insects involved in their daily business that I had never seen before. And you know, it’s all probably still right there happening, whether we are there to notice it or not.
When I pull invasives here in our wooded plot, I can expect a similar experience. Because of my discovery so many years ago, I’m ready to step into the mindset of nuanced scanning and letting the landscape, so close up, with all its other kingdoms at work, sail me.
Sailed. Have you ever been sailed? I describe it as: with senses wide open, a giving over to the situation, pushed by the situation’s winds. And this is the platform, the mindset, that I need for painting. No extraneous thoughts or worries, no references, no end game - with senses wide open, just sailed by the shapes and lines and color of paint. For me, this is A Gardener’s Art - what I keep wanting to tell you about. And it’s from this vantage point that experiences like pulling invasives can get translated into painted imagery, the sailed winds made visible.
Like, maybe, this:
#84-2024. Oil and cold wax medium on 10” x 10” x 1.5” cradled panel.
An update note:
I am very happy to be included again in the upcoming exhibit season of Saint Francis Gallery in South Lee, MA, which is just two miles east of the famous Norman Rockwell town of Stockbridge in the Berkshires.
#89-2024. Oil and cold wax medium, charcoal and graphite.
22” x 60” on Arches oil paper, framed.
The gallery opens May 3, 2024, through to about mid-December.
Friday through Sunday, 10:00-5:00
1370 Pleasant St (a renovated church)
Lee, MA 01260
413-717-5199
Thanks for joining me.
My best to each one of you.
And please feel free to share this newsletter with anyone that might be interested.