Seasons and Routines Changing

Apples will be harvested today for homemade apple sauce

A spike pot from the Machine Series sold this week and is off to its new home in San Fransisco. This was one of the earlier pieces that I created in the series. With some artworks it is hard to say good-bye, but I met the collector and feel confident that this piece is where it is meant to be.

The most recent glaze firing (Friday, pre-Tropical Storm Earl) produced gorgeous greens and blues.

This glass case from David Brooks Goldsmith's (Hallowell) found a new home in the Cobscook Pottery and Fiber shop in Lubec. I love David Agronick's work and treasure my ring that he designed. Hallowell is losing a landmark business, but I'm glad to hear that David Brooks will still be designing, but from his personal studio rather than the downtown business.

Close-up of the new display case in the shop, showing here a new collector's series spike pot and a couple of my sister's creations from her jewelry business The Indigo Iris.

One of Kristin's (The Indigo Iris) pieces for sale in my shop - a beautiful coral fossil, fresh water pearl, and nautilus necklace with matching earrings.

Hurricane Earl swept through as a tropical storm and seemed to bring with him the seasonal change a couple weeks early. Last week's mid 90's scorching temps had us fooled into thinking that summer would never end. Come Sunday, it was too brisk to leave the kitchen door open and the warmest of socks needed to be retrieved from the over-bulged bureau upstairs. With change of season, also comes change of routines.

During the summer I am focused on primarily pottery production to keep the shop stocked. A constant flow of guests are in and out or we are on the road to visit family and friends. I wake each morning naturally, sometimes at 3:00 a.m., or sometimes 7:00. There is always a long list of what needs to be done but there is an impromptu quality that I relish.

Just before the official start of fall, routines are once again solid. The alarm is set for 5:30 a.m. and I am off to school to teach art to most all the children in this community. After school, I return home to tend to the business, and also to work on my Heartwood classes. The summer morning walks are now late afternoon jaunts and evening supper is set to a consistent time, as well as prep for the next day: lunch packed, clothes selected, and items gathered that I might need for a lesson.

This may seem a bit crazy to some, but I enjoy the changes. I don't mind that summer wanes and that soon it will be dark by late afternoon instead of 9:30 at night. I look forward to nor'easters and hunkering down by the warm fire while I watch out the window at swirling snow and swaying trees. But until that time is here, I will take advantage of the warming sun and the delights of autumn in Lubec.

Yesterday Chris and I hiked at West Quoddy. We watched the waves comb and rift with ferocity, greeted a pup seal that peeked its head by the shore, who just as amusingly watched us for a few moments. The birds were out in mass: honking Canadian geese, cranes, plovers, eagles, and others we did not recognize. The walk was the perfect end to a busy day of writing and sculpting.

Today has a full agenda as well for both of us, but we will also take the time this afternoon to harvest some apples to cook and can homemade sauce. Our garden, planted a month late, did not produce as much as we had hoped, but being our first garden, it has been an educational experience that will help us plan for next summer's crop. Basil has grown in abundance and we have enjoyed many batches of fresh pesto. Tomatoes, swiss chard, peppers, sage, cilantro, dill, tarragon, and thyme seem quite happy here. Something chowed the broccoli and none of the squash made it, except for one sort-of pathetically small spaghetti squash. Green beans are growing faster than we can eat, so we decided to can some of them. We discovered that a HUGE pile of green beans does not amount to very much when canned. But it was our first canning experience and we needed to begin somewhere.

The past week was busy but settled. The week before I was out of town with a family emergency. That event put a lot of things into perspective for me, as to what is really important in our lives. Know what is precious in your life and never take those things for granted. We never know for certain what the universe has in store for us, so be sure to live each day thoughtfully and with meaning.

I was glad to return to Lubec after almost two weeks away, to see Chris and Bello, and to be in my studio, creating, and in Lubec, celebrating the beauty of this magical place.

Before I sign off, I want to mention a couple of things going on around here. A lot of folks who pass through my shop are sort of out-of-loop on all the events that are happening. I always suggest that they check in with the visitor center/tour stop located at the Historical Society building. Ruta and her gang offer a wealth if information. The Visit Lubec Maine website is also run by this business.

A great resource for all events cultural and artistic is Culture Pass. If you go to their website you can subscribe to the listserve. Every Sunday you will receive an email listing all the events from St. Andrews down through to Campobello Island. This are is rich with culture. If you are thinking of visiting I suggest you sign on.

Two Countries One Bay Art Studio Tour
Culture Pass sponsors the Two Countries One Bay Art Studio Tour. That is coming up in two weekends, September 18-19, 2010. It is an annual event where you can tour through artist studios in both Canada and Maine. It is an often rare glimpse into the working lives of artists and should not be missed. I have been on the tour for four years now and look forward to the weekend and meeting some many wonderful, curious people. It's a great time to visit the artists, since they usually have some yummy goodies and interesting demonstrations happening those two days. I usually have supplies for folks to weave on the outdoor Earth Loom. I have another plan in mind too and will see if that develops, time permitting.

Last winter I hosted figure drawing sessions with pregnant model Anne Grant of Eastport. Anne also modeled in Eastport at Heidi Reidell's studio. The drawings that were created by artists throughout Anne's pregnancy and post-birth with baby Cecelia are currently being exhibited in Eastport at Heidi Reidell's Gallery/Studio. Please read the press release below and head on over to check out the show!

The Art of Life
Reidellevison Ink's Eastport School of Arts/Catbird Seat Gallery
Eastport, Maine
Through Sept. 24, 2010
Open 10-5 Tuesday-Sunday

The Art of Life show of drawings, sketches and some finished works depicting an entire pregnancy cycle and mother and child will continue at Reidellevision Ink's Eastport School of Arts and Catbird Seat Gallery #3 Dana Street in the Masonic Block in Eastport until September 24th. Gallery hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m Tuesday through Sunday.

This exhibit , showing model Anne Shields Grant in all stages of her child's development, and with infant model Cecilia, ( who modeled at three and four months of age,) shows the work of Bonnie Beard,Jean Bookman, and Shanna Wheelock of Lubec, Barbara Kendall of Calais, Kristie of Deer Island, and Arthur Cadieux, Elizabeth Ostrander, Patricia Johnson, Susan Bailey, Joyce Weber, Alice Bragdon and Heidi Reidell of Eastport .

It is rare to have an opportunity to draw and sketch a single individual throughout these human changes. Throughout the winter, Anne alternated between Shanna Wheelock's North Lubec Road studio and Heidi Reidell's Boynton Street apartment, offering life drawing opportunities.

Come celebrate the arrival of the beautiful Cecilia, and gaze at the wonder that is new life in the making.

Go Figure

Artists were intensely focused while drawing from the live model

A medley of my drawings from the two-hour session

The paloelithic era brought us voluptuous figurines such as Goddess of Willendorf. The Greeks offered up their version of the "ideal" body through exquisitely sculpted statues, and Botticelli painted us a modest, long-haired beauty in The Birth of Venus. Matisse collaged paper for Blue Nude, and where would the Sistine Chapel be without the genius figure renderings by Michaelangelo? Andrew Wyeth had his Helga, and Rubens had his Three Graces.

My students, when flipping through the pages of art history books, often ask me "why would an artist paint a naked person?" It's hard for their young minds, who only know the body as something that is required to be clothed in public, to understand why rendering the nude figure is considered an art. Their only knowing of a naked body is that it belongs in adult magazines or in R-Rated movies.

I try to explain that it requires great skill to be able to draw the figure, and that it has been drawn, painted, and sculpted for hundreds, even thousands, of years by many of the great master artists. I go on to say that for these artists, the body is seen as something beautiful, but also a challenge. Furthermore, it is required in art school that students draw from a live model, and that they learn how the body form connects, moves, and works as a whole. How would a fashion designer draw clothing if they didn't have a thorough understanding of proportion? And where would the medical field be without artists who illustrated the figure, inside and out, for textbooks.

I remember my first drawing class at USM with Professor David Schneider. At eighteen years old, I was not yet an art student, and had no inclination to be one at the time. I was merely required to take an arts-related course to fulfill the core requirement. I liked drawing well enough: still-lifes, landscapes, cute little cartoons. It never even crossed my mind, not once, that I would have to stare at a naked person for the duration of a three-hour class and attempt to render the structure of a human figure.

To my surprise, after the initial embarrassment wore off, I fell in love with the process. My drawings became more free, lines expressive. It wasn't about seeing an arm or a breast. It was about sensing hills, valleys, curves, and shadows. In much of my artwork I am calculating, methodical, careful. When drawing the figure, my arm comes to life and the lines emerge quickly, without thought.

That first college drawing course, where we drew and clay-sculpted the live model, set a foundation that still, twenty-two years later, impacts my work as an artist.

Yesterday I played hostess for a live model session. Eight artists from Lubec and Eastport areas gathered to draw and paint. After the initial frenzy of trying to find enough chairs and supply stands, folks settled-in. The focus was so intent that the only sound heard was the scratching of art materials against paper.

The model was fantastic, leading us through a series of two to twenty-minute poses. What was most impressive was that, with her beautifully-rounded seven-month pregnant belly, she was still able to contort into challenging positions that accentuated graceful lines and muscle tone. The drawing session cumulated into a one-hour pose that was reminiscent of Delacroix' Odalisque Reclining on Divan.

I felt a bit rusty at figure drawing since it had been perhaps three years since I last worked with a model. I made a mental note to self that I need to put-in some time with hands and feet. I patted myself on the back for doing an adequate job with the foreshortening, which I admit, I often avoided in the past. The hub bub of the day's activity began to subside as artists packed-up their easels and drove away. I finished returning the chairs and stands to their appropriate spots in the house and went back into the studio to photograph my sketches.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement. Camera still in hand, I lifted it up in time to snap a shot, though blurry and unfocused, of a fox in the front field. Moments later, a second fox emerged and the two playfully chased each other through the snow before winding off into the tree line.

What a gift that was, after an artistically fulfilling morning, to witness such playfulness and beauty in nature, even on a bitterly cold winter day.

New Year, New Beginnings

Progress being made in the basement. Started out with a messy sawdust pile, wood scraps, equipment, boards, and a pile of tools and supplies.....now a plastic-sheeted room ready for more mess to be made!

Holidays have passed and this last day of school vacation has me feeling mellow and pleased with the past week's accomplishments. As it goes with vacation time, the sleep-in hour gets later and later. I rolled out of bed at 9:00 a.m. after an eleven-hour slumber. This is nearly unheard of for me, as I am usually up before daylight breaks and taking advantage of the still creative time. But the longer I have off from work, the later the sleep-ins get. Yesterday wore me out physically. By bedtime, I wasn't sure I would be able to get myself vertical long enough to get up the stairs to the bedroom!

The day began with four straight hours of emails, phone calls, and downloads. A documentary is being made about last summer's Lubec Arts Alive and I need to acquire multiple images from the artists involved. Sounds simple, but with various digital requirements, requests, and thirteen artists in total....it is a lengthy process. We are fortunate to have Jon Wing Lum, a talented film-maker, on board for this project. I am eager to see the final result and hopefully it will be finished in time to debut at a public event this coming spring!

After a lull emerged in the onslaught of emails, I headed into the new basement to begin set-up for the pottery studio. Originally I had planned to have the pottery on the main floor - but this space (from which I am writing now) is so pristine and sacred-feeling that I decided it should be reserved for the less messy endeavours of weaving, drawing, and workshops. So off the the basement I went.

I actually enjoy working in such a environment, which seems quite a contradiction for me since I am one who needs my space "just so" in order to begin a project. But, my beginnings with clay at USM were in such a space, deep underground in the Robie-Andrews building. I remember the "long" walk down through the concrete-lined halls into the gray, cement-walled rooms, dirty, dusty, still, and lit by overhead flourescent lights. Not glamorous by any means, but it felt right. Maybe it is because clay comes from the earth, and what better place to work with clay than deep in it.

My father had planned to be here this weekend to work on more trim and doorway installation in the new addition. As it turned out, this storm that started Thursday evening proved to be too dangerous for travel. So, the wood that we had planned to use is still being stored in the basement. On a tight schedule and needing the clay studio ready for the MFA projects to begin, the first task on hand down there involved moving several boards from the right side of the room to the left. A mere three feet or less of movement, but awkward and heavy. Have you ever tried maneuvering 14 foot boards through 8 foot openings?

With careful calculation (and Chris' help!) the task was completed. Then I was left for a few hours on my own to strategically set-up the space for optimum production. Organiziation just happens to be one of my skills, and already I had been planning the placement of things in my mind for several weeks. My muscles got a workout as the heavy shimpo wheel was moved around, tables placed, glazes piled, and plastic hung.

Yes, plastic. The new clay studio eerily resembles a scene from Showtime's Dexter. In an attempt to isolate heat into the work area, I sectioned off a 12'x18' space with plastic sheeting. It is quite cold down there and am thinking the heat might be less likely to bolt for the high-ceilinged stairwell. I have a second heater on order. It is a tricky thing to plan out the heating for this space since I can have no blowers. Flying clay dust is extremely hazardous to one's health!

So - at this moment in time, the basics are set-up. After the student art show opens on Wednesday, and between storms, I hope to get to Calasis to buy some remnant linoleum from Marden's. This will be placed under the main work area in an attempt to make clean-up easy, or, more easy than having to clean up slop from concrete floors. That's the hope anyway. Then, another work table, clay organization, and I think I am good to go.

Today - I will try to recoup my energy for a hectic day of teaching and artwork-hanging tomorrow. I have some brain-type activities that need my attention: reading a book for the MFA program and more downloads and emails to tend to.

Holidays were a blast and it was wonderful to spend time with family. January, which is usally quiet time for me, is looking to be off-the-wall crazy with all kinds of activity: student art show, Chris heads to California, Mom visits, and the clay and fiber projects begin for the Heartwood MFA program. The new studio will be in full production, upstairs and down! It is also being used for monthly winter crystal bowl healing sessions and live figure drawing sessions with a beautifully full-bellied pregnant model.

January is typically my hibernation time. Seems that trend is coming to an abrupt end.