close encounters with mooses

This lovely cow moose welcomed 4 of us artists to Sandy Stream Pond in Baxter State Park last Thursday. Munching her way towards us, here she is considering her next move - towards us or across the pond. She opted for across the pond which was good since we were close to her, and it is rutting season. After this confrontation, we artists separated - 3 went to a rock facing Katahdin, but in the wind. I went to a small viewpoint, close to the water where I could sit in my chair, and behind some bushes, protected from the wind. I sat there happily painting for a couple of hours. Several clumps of people came by during this time, so I thought nothing - at first - of the sounds of clumping footsteps.
As they got closer, however, I also heard some munching sounds, at which point I began to think that what was behind me was not human. I carefully put down the little painting in a protected place, and turned my head around to the left. I was staring into the eyes of a huge bull moose, whose snout I could have patted. If I thought, I cannot remember what. So I slowly stood up, so that whatever might happen, I was at least looking eyeball to eyeball with him.
He was on the trail; I was at the side of it. I stood there, thinking to myself, "OK, Mr. Moose. I'm yours now."
If he had decided to come down the trail, I would have had to step backwards into the pond. But after staring at each other for a while - God only knows how long that was - Mr. Moose decided that I was not what he wanted, and he carefully went around me, and some bushes, then back onto the trail. Here he is:

Note the pulled back ears! He was still a bit worried about me, but not half as worried as I was. He was BIG, with a good sized rack!
Later that afternoon, as I was tottering back to Roaring Brook Ranger Station, I saw two moose in the woods, attempting to mate. I went from tottering to scurrying at that point, and was quite glad to get back to the Station.
Moose are not generally aggressive, except in rutting season which is now. I can remember my father coming home from a timber cruising trip, and telling a story about getting chased up a tree by furious bull moose. Perhaps it was my dad's testosterone that wound up his bull and my lack of it that kept my moose calm. Who knows? All I know was that I was at his mercy; he was way bigger than me and could have stomped me easily if he'd wanted to.
I am very grateful that, for whatever reason, he decided that it was better to chase after the cow we saw earlier that day, than it was to do something about me.
These encounters were the emotional highlight of my 5 day trip with 3 artists, led by Suzanne Brewer, artist in residence this summer at Baxter Park in the North Woods of Maine. We camped in a cabin at Daicey Pond, where I had been as a child with my cousin Jeanie. We painted each day at different places - Ledge Falls, Sandy Stream Pond, the eastern end of Ripogenus Gorge, always focussed up at Mt. Katahdin. Some times we went out of the Park and onto the Golden Road, a road built by the logging companies across the north woods. Most times we painted inside the Park, cooked dinner, visited with Charity and Dean Levasseur, rangers in the Park, and went to bed only to get up again at 6ish, when it got light and we could make it to the outhouse without flashlights. It was a fabulous time; the Park is a special place; the mountain is a very special mountain. But beware, you might confront a moose!

Crystalline Blue: the perfect ending

Last Sunday, I took some friends out for a sail. There were more sailboats out that day than practically any day last summer. It was a perfect day. Like this extremely blue 'postcard' above, it was crystalline blue that day, too, with a NW breeze blowing 10-15 knots, which of course, dies down in the late afternoon.
We sailed down the river with the tide, out towards Fishermans Island, passing near the Hypocrites to check out the seals, then down the Thread of Life to check on the osprey nests, and around Witch Island. I do love the names of things! Then we went back up Herring Gut and through the South Bristol bridge - a very narrow, wonderful old swing bridge, and across the river to check out the new Bigelow Lab, and home again.
It was quite spectacular. You could almost see Mount Desert Island from the bay. You could certainly see Monhegan, Matinicus and the Camden Hills. But we saw only one seal, no porpoises and no whales. I think they're still farther up north, or maybe there were just too many boats out that day. I have seen all of them in the places where we were last Sunday, and, except for the seal, I missed them that day.
But when we got back to the Marina, we sat in the sunshine for a bit drinking some beer, and eating Triscuits, on the boat. Then, unwilling to give up the pleasure and the sunshine, we walked over to Lobstermans Wharf, and ate supper - fresh oysters from the very river we were sailing on, crab cakes and lobster rolls.
I cannot conjure up more pleasure than what we had that day. So I've decided that it will be the last sail of the year. I cannot imagine a more perfect sail in October, so out the boat will come. She needs some work on the mainsail rig - its rolling furling isn't working well, and the traveller is stuck. So we'll work on it for a bit, and then haul her out. Friends think I'm crazy to give up the possibility of more perfect sails. But I prefer the memory of this one, this year.
I will search for another perfect sail next year.

'East Beirut' in an open studio

"East Beirut" is the name of this 'postcard.' A composite image of East Boothbay, I found it when I was cleaning up and getting organized for an open studio on September's First Friday here in Boothbay. I dug it out and refreshed the inks with some watercolors, and here it is. The name, East Beirut, dates the original to the days of the Great Water Main Project in 2009-2010, when a camel resided on my lawn, and East Boothbay was called Baghdad West. But the water is flowing happily now, so we have sunk back into the ordinariness of being East Boothbay.

'Postcards' is what I called this show. They are just simple images of places and things that I have started 'en plein air' with Tombo pens and inks, and then finish in the studio with watercolors. Included were Sumurun and Oliver Weyant, all colored up now, and Damariscove's Outer harbor which is still a bit rough...plus some Fishermans Island summer and fall light pics, one of which is at River Arts now...

What really seemed to galvanize people, however, were some of my old Squares, painted for the 'Art in the Square' Christmas show, plus some drawings that I am really into at the moment. The squares are mostly dinghies and dories, in sunsets. One sold - hooray! But the drawings were what held big interest. I have not made any photo images of them yet, though there are some early ones on www.artcollectormaine.com. But I will soon.

One has to be careful with drawings of nudes, both male and female, and even ordinary images of people. Even Westerners don't always like to be identified in portraits, cartoons, and photos, including me! But other people seem to like my images of people, so I will try and take some interesting photos soon.

real work?

I've been playing with some of the images of the summer. This one, for instance, I drew while sitting at a picnic table in Shipbuilders' Park here in EBB. Then, I took it home and have tried adding some appropriate color. I'd love to ask you who are reading this blog, 

which image do you like better?

It's been a busy summer ( I just finished canning my first batch of tomatoes) but there has been time to work on my "postcards," images which I like to do en plein air. I enjoy making these images, sitting outside and working small has a very Zen-like quality. But they don't always achieve the level of high art - hence, I call them "postcards."

This image of Fishermans Island is a different style. I've used just my Tombo pens and a watercolor brush to wash the image once it is drawn.The trouble with the Tombos is that the ink fades radically if placed in even indirect light. So these images become some of my best giclee images, which do not fade. The trouble is that people don't understand the difference here between an "original" which might fade in a month, and a giclee print which will stay intact for years. So I just continue making images, scanning them into the computer so I can print them when a giclee is wanted.

In the meantime, I try to catch the beauty boats whenever they show up in a place where I can see them. Here is Sumurun, a lovely big boat that sails each year in the Shipyard Cup, in early August, here in Boothbay Harbor. The fog was a problem this year, so I have no gorgeous photos, only this drawing of Sumurun, tied up at Hodgdon's yard here in EBB. She's a pleasure to see. 

busy, busy summer

This little sauna building is on an island called Ristisaari in the Finnish archipelago, in the Baltic Sea. Two weeks ago, I returned from the island to Helsinki, having spent three days on the island happily drawing (soon to be shown), having saunas and eating splendid meals cooked on a grill on the porch of the main cabin on this little island. When we weren't sauna-ing or sleeping or eating, we went visiting other people on other islands all around the bay we were in. It was quite idyllic.

This island trip was part of a longer trip to Finland to visit friends from the Queen Mary trip in 2006. Two years ago, Raili and Markku Pimia, and Pirkko and Simo Helander came here to East Boothbay to visit (and fish) over Labor Day weekend. This year it was my turn, together with Jane and George Metzger, to go to Finland. It was a wonderful trip. We don"t know where the next gathering will be, but there will be another!

Perhaps Alaska????

Here is the main cabin on Ristisaari. Like most rural buildings in Finland, it is log, with a big main room, a kitchen off the main room, and a bunk room in back of the kitchen. It is about the same size as the smoke sauna we used at Kierke, the lodge we went to in the lake country. A smoke sauna is one of the gentlest saunas you can imagine, though it sounds tough. In a largish log cabin, a brick fire box sends its smoke up through the rocks piled on top of the fire box. The smoke heats the rock and fills the room, but as soon as you pour water on the hot rock, the steam banishes the smoke (somehow), and you are left with a moist, gentle, very hot sauna, after which you go jump in a lake, or the Baltic Sea.

Finland was not just about what we did in the countryside, or out on the island, there was also Helsinki, its design flavor and the wonderful piano concert we had from Juho Polhonen. But more about that later. Coming home I was faced with the need to paint an Adirondack chair for the Y fundraising auction on August 24th. I had decided to try painting a plaid pattern, but had no idea how time consuming it would turn out to be. It took me 4 1/2 days to paint this puppy, and I would do it again only for an exorbitant amount of money. But I am pleased with how it looks, even with the pattern diversions.

enough for now...I've made dilly green bean pickles already from the garden uber-abundance, and must continue to try and catch up to the garden, which languished with the weeds in my almost 3 week absence. The raspberries are gone into the neighbors' freezers I hope, but the blueberries are still just coming, and a fine crop it is, too. The cukes are in full production, as is the zucchini, the lettuces and beets. Tomatoes are jusy starting to ripen, but hopefully will not allow the weeds to smother them. At any rate, there's work to be done, and paintings to be made of this wonderful summer... Happy trails to all of you...

amazing summer

Last week I spent on Damariscove Island, whose harbor you can see here in early evening. The Boothbay Region Land Trust owns the island minus the old Coast Guard Station you see here at the mouth of the harbor. Each summer, two caretakers reside on the island for 10 days, then they get 4 days off. Over this Fourth of July week, they had five days off and Marianne Reynolds, Commodore of the BH Yacht Club this year, and I were substitute caretakers for the week.

It was a glorious week though the weather was not perfect. The birds were numerous, especially yellow birds - warblers and goldfinches; the composting toilets worked they way they should; we had plenty of good drinking water which we brought with us; the muskrats were not so numerous that they bothered. The red ants, however, were pesky. They were imported from some boat sometime in the last few years and have taken over some sandy parts of the island. They are a good lesson on how difficult it can be to maintain a balance on an island when a new species of predator - bug or otherwise - is introduced. Chickens seemed to help a few years ago, when caretakers brought them out for their stint on the island. But we had no chickens to bring.

Still, the weather was glorious one day, and it brought many people out on 12 or so boats. They cycled through the tiny harbor with some grace; kids played on the beach and swam like crazy for the water is warm this year; I got to play harbor master and trash collector in a courtesy dinghy. The little museum was open and got a lot of visitors, and kudos for the information there.

That night though, was the full moon. I slept on my boat and woke at five in the am, at dead low tide, to some bumping - not a happy feeling aboard a boat. Peering out of the hatch, I faced the lowest stones of the large stone pier in the middle of the harbor, and realized I was hitting the edge of those stones, albeit gently. Looking out toward the 3 sailboats anchored at the mouth of the harbor, however, I realized that one of them was aground and teetering on the rocks. The people on the boat knew what they were doing however, and waited patiently for the tide to come back in, and the boat floated off in about a half hour. It made for an exciting beginning to an otherwise gloomy day - our only one.

Gloomy days on an island far offshore have their own pleasures. A good book or two, and hike in the fog made our day passable, the birdsong our NPR. A few lobster boats came in to restock their lines with more pots, so we asked if anyone had any lobsters for sale. There were none that day, but the next day, which dawned foggy and then cleared, Bill Hallinan brought us 4 not so soft lobsters for lunch. We sat in the sun on the little cabin's deck and ate them, cooked in seawater, and nothing is as delicious as lobsters eaten that way!

Our stay ended the way it began - with glorious weather, early in the morning. We sailed ever so quietly on very little wind, back into the bustle of Boothbay Harbor. It was an extraordinary week.

Can hearts be broken with pleasure?

My heart nearly broke with pleasure today as I received the top two images from my son. They are images my two oldest grandaughters painted in school this year. Their artists' statements clearly elucidate their paintings, and I quote here from Merry's statement; she has the topmost image:

"I guess the painting/drawing stands for nature. The reason its called The Cross because you can kind of see a cross. That part stands for peace so it kind of stands for Care For the World." I rest my case...!

The middle image is Sarah Kate's; her statement is as follows:

"My Grandma inspired me to do this picture. She loves painting sailboats on the ocean. She has tons of paintings of her in her studio. So this is why I painted this painting."

If you are not a grandparent or wish to be one, perhaps you will not understand the power of their images and words. But they overwhelmed me with gratitude for them, and for my son and his wife that they have raised these two so well, so far. It is not a simple thing to raise kids to be happy, productive citizens. I did pretty well, as well as I could, and they seem to be doing the same. My heart leaps with pleasure again.

The bottom image is one of mine, whose color seems to work well in this blog. It's another version of my Monhegan workboat series. It's not a sail boat, but the color does work well here!