Blog

"Red Sailboat, Betsie Bay"

12" x 12" oil/canvas

A gaggle of giggling gals turned up after supper last night: three grownups and four little girls. In fact, I still had the last of a taco and a mouthful of beer in my mouth when they knocked on the door. "C'mon in, ladies," I gulped. Up from Portage Lake for some ice cream, these visitors from Alabama saw my little sign downtown. "Look," said grandma to one of the kids, "Her name is Ellie, just like yours! Let's go see her paintings!" 

As there aren't that many Ellies in the world, I was very pleased to meet this one, a 6 or 7 year old blond with braids who was described as a budding artist. (I showed her the illustrated children's book I'd made when I was 10, called "Pets for Pests.") The others, various moms, aunts and cousins, seemed quite pleased to make the acquaintance of my paintings. For 20 or 30 minutes, the whole house was filled with familiar accents and an energy unique to Southern women on the prowl.

"You don't mind, do you?" said one as she took a picture off the wall to view it in a better light. From having lived most of my life in Georgia, I know there's no stopping a Southern woman once she's caught the scent of something wonderful. She's serious about having fun and makes it fun for everyone else too. "Have at it!" I replied.

Choices were rapidly narrowed to three paintings with a sailboat motif. Everyone voted, a checkbook appeared, and the painting was hustled off to the basement to get packed for a trip to Birmingham. The owner of the new painting was all smiles. She might be going back to 94 degree heat in a few days, but she'd be bringing with her the cool freshness of "Red Sailboat, Betsie Bay."

As quickly as this benign tornado had appeared, it was gone and a more typical quiet resumed. Roo and I tidied up the kitchen and rode our bikes around the bay to Elberta. The red sailboat, anchored in the middle of Betsie Bay, was basking in the orange light of the setting sun. Once we reached the Lake Michigan overlook, I paused to give thanks for a life we couldn't have imagined only a few short years ago.

Wonderful flowers and a painting I love—an unbeatable combo! "Still Life with Spotty" is now current with this season's blooms, freshly cut this morning. I simply couldn't resist sharing this visual play with you!

I love that I get to enjoy my work until it finds a forever home. And yet it might be time for this one to give its joy elsewhere. In the meanwhile, Spotty is alive, well, and prowling my Studio & Gallery for new spots to not be still. What's not to love on a sunny summer day? If you're in the area, I hope you'll stop in!

I've been opening the door to a lot of people this summer. My standard welcome: "Come in, take a look around, let me know if you have any questions ...." Then there's the trip up the stairs to my studio, with smaller paintings on either side, and then the studio itself. Later, there's the tour of the downstairs of our 1895 home cum summer art gallery. Several times a day one of the visitors shows up downstairs clutching a copy of book, 7 Habits of Deeply Fulfilled Artists: Your Aesthetic Needs & How to Meet Them.

Are you an artist? I inquire. The reply: Well, maybe. Or, I paint but not enough. And, I thought this might help .... Yes, it will, I say. The book is packed with inspiration and encouragement.

For some, however, the book is great but there's a longing for something more.

I used to balk at the requests I'd get for painting instruction. After all, I'm largely self-taught so why can't everyone be? It's simply a matter of commitment and perseverance. Just do your Art!

Recently, however, I began to sense that I might be able to support artists not only through the book, but also as a witness to their art-making, along with other artists, in my own studio. Thus was born the notion of an Open Studio Workshop, the first of which I'll be hosting August 25-29.

The idea is for artists of any level who'd like to work in oils (or other medium in which they feel comfortable) to have an affordable  structured time and space for committed art-making. In addition the artists may call upon me when as they desire for feedback and guidance. Plus, there will be the camaraderie of a small group of other artists ....

I sent out the invitation to my email list yesterday and the group is almost filled. A few spaces remain. Does one of them have your name on it? Let me know. Check out the details here.

I'm sitting in my studio today contemplating this painting. It's a cool, rainy sort of day here in Frankfort with temps hovering around 60 and a stiff breeze blowing. Not too summery! So, I look at this sunny barn recalling the moment I stopped and made friends with it just about a month ago. I'd passed by so many times and was set to do so again as I drove down M72 returning home from an early morning visit to Traverse City. This day, however, I turned around and went back to make a closer acquaintance. Today as I sit with "Barn with Orange Door," I'm glad I did; for even though it was close to noon and the sun was high overhead, I was able to locate some of those shadows I love to paint. And that orange door!

One of the things that unfailingly attracts me about older Michigan barns is how quirky they are. Years now of painting them has shown me that basic barn designs are not all that unique; however, the way the windows are placed, or the color a door or siding is painted, may be very distinctive and so downright odd. I find it beguiling and downright charming that the owners of this barn paint chose to paint its door orange. I then decide to celebrate their choice in my painting. And while I'm at it, let me add a few colors of my own—purples, greens and yellow—to create a lighthearted summer barn-look.

Fortunately, the sunshine is this painting is not so fleeting as in a northern Michigan summer. I can imagine it bringing light all year round to the home of whoever owns it once summer has past. Nice thoughts to have on this cool, rainy day waiting for the next visitors to walk through the (not-orange) door of my Studio & Gallery.