Sunday, December 19, 2010

A message from the 14th Dalai Lama



THE PARADOX OF OUR AGE

We have bigger houses, but smaller families;
more conveniences, but less time;
We have more degrees, but less sense;
more knowledge, but less judgment;
more experts, but more problems;
more medicines, but less healthiness;
We've been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet
the new neighbour.
We built more computers to hold more
information to produce more copies than ever,
but have less communication;
We have become long on quantity,
but short on quality.
These are times of fast foods
but slow digestion;
Tall man but short character;
Steep profits but shallow relationships.
It's a time when there is much in the window,
but nothing in the room.

-the 14th Dalai Lama

Monday, November 29, 2010

Provincetown Watercolor Exhibit


Five recent watercolors inspired by my dune shack experience are on display at Now Voyager Gallery in Provincetown, MA. They'll be up through the summer so if you find yourself in the outer cape area, please stop by the gallery at 357 Commercial Street and check them out in person!

For more information click here

Friday, November 19, 2010

Last Day at the Dune Shack, Sunday October 31, 2010







Sunday October 31, 2010

It’s the morning of my final day at Fowler. Chip from the Compact will be here in a few hours to pick me up (along with my belongings) and drop off the next resident.

I try to practice good shack etiquette, so I take on the following chores:

-I sweep the sand off of the floors (this is futile)
-I pump ten gallons of water and carry it back to the shack’s porch to have on reserve.
-I refill the oil in the kerosene lamps and replace the D batteries in the battery operated ones.
-I scavenge around the dunes for bark and sticks to replenish the bucket of kindling for the stove.

As I do this last task I realize how awesome it is to carry around a hatchet and actually have a use for it. Frontier life, which I suppose this type of existence is akin to, requires more resolve than the life I’m used to, but it’s so much more exciting.

It’s hard to believe that an entire week has passed. I brought four books with me for this trip and read none of them. Instead, I picked over the shack library’s offerings: David Matias’ poetry collection, “The Fifth Season,” Edmund White’s novel, “The Beautiful Room is Empty,” and when in need of some levity, the 1984 Guinness Book of World Records. Mostly I enjoyed reading the shack journals from past residents, which reminds me that I need to leave my own entry.

One thing I keep thinking about is how rare this type of situation is.

Loneliness abounds in modern life. It’s everywhere. Solitude isn’t.

Opportunities for true solitude rarely occur, and there is virtually no emphasis placed on attaining them. In my experiences at Fowler, and at C-Scape, I learned that to come to this state of being, to be content alone, with no yearning for anyone or anything else, is a distinction that is completely lost in our culture. It is a hard place to get to when there are so many avenues for immediate social connection and distraction. But to ignore this virtue, as I think our society allows and maybe even encourages us to do, is a missed opportunity to understand ourselves better. At C-Scape it took me two and a half weeks to get to the point where I stopped thinking about my life back home and what I was missing and making do without. When I finally did, and I will remember this moment always, it was a profound and overwhelming feeling, like being hit by a wave you didn’t see coming.

At that moment, things seemed clearer. I felt two emotions primarily: forgiveness and gratitude. I let go of things and I truly forgave.

It is hard to put this into words, and I don’t think I can really, but what I was left with after that long period of time in the dunes was myself. The distractions of my busy day to day life back home – the stresses of work, relationships, and family, had started to become like an insulation that blocked me from actually being able to understand myself.

Things make sense here.

The Compact describes the dune shacks as “a retreat for art and healing,” and it is just that. As I get ready to leave from here and enter back into regular life, I think of an entry written in one of the shack journals. In it, the person very aptly described how you feel after a stay in the dunes - “My edges are glowing again.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my time at the Fowler Dune Shack. In each instance of experiencing something beautiful here in the dunes (and there were many) I thought about how much I wanted to share in that with others. This blog has given me an opportunity to do that. Please check back for future posts.

Thanks,

Michael

**thanks to Josh Willis for the dune grass circle picture above. I forgot to take one of this phenomenon!

***If you are interested in donating to The Compact, or in applying for a shack stay yourself (AND YOU SHOULD!) please visit TheCompact.org
Fellowships are awarded to artists and writers based on merit, but additional residencies are available to the general public and awarded through random lottery.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Day 7 at Fowler Dune Shack - Saturday, October 30, 2010








Day 7

The shack is ice cold this morning.

Temperatures dropped down overnight into the 30’s…The thought of unzipping my sleeping bag is nearly impossible, but I force myself. It’s my last full day here.

Surprised by how quickly I’m able to start a healthy fire, especially while shivering.

This is the survival part of this experience. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; we are approaching early winter after all.

By noon the shack is toasty. Well, the room with the wood burning stove in it is toasty – I have the door to the bedroom closed to concentrate the warm air. I’m confined to this space all day and must constantly look after the fire. It’s probably in the 40’s now and sunny, but too windy for hiking or a run.

And yet, this is still paradise. I’m surrounded by great books, my sketch pads, and the shack journals with entries from past residents. I read about their experiences. Most are similar to mine. We fill our days the same way, with long walks and hours spent reading. We delight in the challenge of cooking in this primitive kitchen. Artists come here with canvases aplenty and preplanned subject matter, only to find they do everything but paint. Writers abandon their novels, opting instead to write about the way the blades of dune grass carve perfect circles around themselves in the sand when it’s windy, like nature’s compass. The environment here has other plans for you.

All you can do is observe and absorb, pray, listen. Look and watch for minutes on end. I think this is living in the moment.

I came here to press reset. A friend back home told me he thought I was thinking too much and not feeling enough.

When I arrived here my thoughts were focused on what I am doing, now I’m left wondering what am I doing?

The shack is a beautiful living thing. I am absolutely transfixed by the way the environment has chipped its paint and splintered its wood. The way the salt and moisture rich air has rusted and oxidized every metallic part of itself. How the copious sand grains have etched into the turquoise painted floor to make it resemble an actual piece of turquoise. Then I think of the way a New York City interior designer would try to achieve this effect, stupidly and foolishly, with expensive processes. Just let nature and time do it. It makes me think about our own bodies. Is it a coincidence that as we get older we find ourselves rising with the sun? That our hair silvers, the way a cedar shingle on this shack does. We do everything we can to try and make ourselves think we aren’t human sometimes. We fight the tide. It is beautiful to be human, and when we try to fight this, it makes fools of us.

You could say that the environment here takes its toll, that the elements force things to age faster. But maybe they are just living sooner.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Day 6 at the Dune Shack, Friday October 29th, 2010







Day 6

Beautiful crisp fall sunrise. A quintessential Edward Hopper Cape Cod morning, I half expected to see one of his thick-armed female figures staring out the window of the Margo-Gelb Shack in the distance.

I love it here. The mornings are by far the best moments of the day. They feel valuable, but not precious the way a weekend morning back home does – those are always dotted with errands and brunch plans and work to catch up on. Never enough time to feel truly caught up.

Here I wake up with the sun and have the expanse of the day before me. Mornings in abundance.

It’s been so mild that I haven’t had to use the wood burning stove all week. This has been a blessing.

I have a windburn on my face from painting at the lighthouse yesterday. I think it’s a windburn. Or maybe I am developing that ruddy complexion people have here? I can wear my contact lenses all day here without any discomfort. My eyes feel constantly enveloped by a cloud of salt air.

Walked over the dune to the beach this morning and saw a seagull frantically running back and forth with a SEVERELY broken wing. Can seagulls dislocate their wing?? Because that is what it looked like. Needless to say, the bird was freaked and it wouldn’t let me get near it. What happens to it now? This afternoon I revisited the same part of the beach and it was still there pacing around like mad. Sad to watch. Really sad, actually.

Can’t get over how many seals inhabit the water here. The population has really exploded. Earlier this summer one was documented being killed by a great white shark near the shack. I read that it was because the conservation efforts to replenish the seals have worked too well. They are eating too many fish and attracting sharks.

It’s about 8 o’clock at night as I write this, and of course very dark.

Because I’m here in this creepy ass shack and because it’s almost Halloween, the radio stations here insist on playing Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” “Werewolves of London,” and most frightening of all: THE X-FILES THEME

If they play “Tubular Bells” from the The Exorcist I don’t know what I’ll do.

NPR is not much better. Unfortunately for me there is a pledge drive going on which is insufferable to listen to. When the pledge drive isn’t going on the programming alternates between Massachusetts gubernatorial and senate candidate debates (these people are exaggerating their accents for effect, RIGHT???) and macabre Halloween stories. When it’s just me, and the wind against the shingles, and the coyotes howling in the dunes, I could use something more upbeat.

Despite these minor complaints, which are not real complaints, another reason I like being here is that it gives me the opportunity to feel brave -- an emotion that is maybe too uncommon in my everyday life.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

additional day 5 pictures


Day 5 at the Fowler Dune Shack, Thursday October 28th, 2010







Day 5

Yesterday’s drizzle and clouds were topped off by an incredibly loud thunderstorm that occurred, like clockwork, just as I was trying to fall asleep. Heavy rain beat down on the roof and every gust of wind seemed to rattle the front door so hard it sounded like someone was trying to force their way in.

It’s amazing how different it is being here at night vs. the daytime. During the day the solitude is wonderful, but about an hour after the sun sets and there is no longer any half-light, there is a menacing feeling you can become overwhelmed by if you allow yourself. I choose not to go down this path of thinking and generally succeed in calming myself by doing the following:

1. consuming alcohol. (Onto my 3rd bottle of red wine)
2. Switching on all the battery-operated lanterns I brought simultaneously
3. Lighting every candle and kerosene lamp in the shack
4. Blasting the radio

But, once I’m ready to sleep I mostly depend on earplugs to drown out the myriad sounds the shack seems to produce at night – the creaks and moans of the wood, and the scurrying feet of any potential rodents. So far I haven’t had any sightings, but field mice were constantly running in and out of the C-Scape shack during my time there, so I know they are not out of the question.

I was pleased to get out of bed this morning to find that the storm had relented. My surroundings seemingly returned to their non-threatening selves once again.

Barely recognize myself in the mirror. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without shaving. I’m curious to see if my beard will fill in, or if, as I suspect, my maximum facial hair potential will only reach Johnny Depp level. I decide to investigate the “shower.” This is a very rudimentary system that involves a large blue plastic barrel (pictured) which rests on a lower part of the shack’s roof. The barrel is connected to a hose which snakes down the slope of the roof and ends with a nozzle that hangs off the side of the roof. You can figure out the rest. This was an interesting experience nonetheless, and I did feel somewhat refreshed once I had finished violently shivering.

A note on the bathroom******There is of course no plumbing here, but the bathroom remains surprisingly functional and non-odor producing. There is a state of the art composting toilet which is attached to the shack. No flushing mechanism. A cup of peat moss each day seems to do the trick. (see picture!)

I hiked into Provincetown for a sanity check. The town is very empty, but not as empty as it will be in a few weeks. I sketched the fishing boats docked at MacMillan’s Pier for a while and then hiked out onto the breakwater jetty to my favorite lighthouse, Wood End Light. I made a small watercolor of the lighthouse (which I’ve painted many times before), but was eventually forced to head back due to the increased winds and the insufficient number of layers I was wearing.

While in town, I bought a large salad filled with cold, perishable ingredients. This description probably doesn’t sound so tantalizing, but my food options at the shack have been limited and I have started fantasizing about fresh ingredients, especially fresh, refrigerated ingredients. I was informed prior to my arrival at Fowler, that there was propane stove for cooking, but the propane refrigerator was broken and that there would be a Coleman cooler with a block of ice in it’s place. I wasn’t too heartbroken about the lack of a fridge due to my past experience of having one at the C-Scape shack. The “fridge” was more like a glorified cooler anyhow. I recall speaking with Sue Foss, the artist whose residency took place at C-Scape before mine, about what to expect at the shack. In describing the power of the propane fridge, she told me how each morning she would brew herself a cup of tea and then place it in the fridge. By 3 in the afternoon she had a glass of tea that was a slightly cooler temperature than it had been that morning. I had a similar experience during my trip at C-Scape when I stupidly tried to make a dirty martini. It was a lukewarm, briny disaster. What was I thinking?

I also find myself fantasizing about how good a real, hot, shower will feel. How amazing the concept of the faucet in my apartment back in the city is. Water comes out of it whenever I want? And I can use as much as I want? And I can control the temperature? AMAZING!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Day 4 at the Fowler Dune Shack, Wednesday 10/27/10






Overcast all day.

Managed to finally wake up early today with the help of my cheap ass alarm clock, in hopes of seeing the sunrise, but there were too many clouds for that to happen.

Spent a large part of the day reading. Took my coffee to the beach and started to read a collection of poems by David Matias called, “The Fifth Season,” a series he wrote between the time he was diagnosed with a terminal illness and his eventual death. Once this yielded a rather wild emotional response from me, I decided that it was enough for one morning. Emotions come very easily here, which is very nice, but also very alarming.

I suppose reading the poems made me feel overwhelmingly thankful for my health -- something I so easily take for granted, as I think many of us do.

I followed this with a Buddhist philosophy text, which offered this provocative advice:

The causes for all personal unhappiness and interpersonal conflict in life lie in “the 3 poisons:”

1.) Craving
2.) Anger
3.) Delusion

On a daily basis in New York, I feel all these things. Often times within the length of time it takes me to walk from one street block to the next. I covet that great looking person with the designer clothes coming out of their beautiful car. I feel angry when the person walking in front of me is smoking or walking too slowly. I delude myself into thinking that the percentage of my salary that goes toward paying rent is reasonable.

I know this when I am living in New York, but it takes being away from there, being out of it, to see the effect it has on my whole being. There is an unconsciousness I experience there that is gratifying. Even a completely uneventful day in Manhattan feels thrilling. But there are those moments when it catches up, when you can’t remember the last night you didn’t have a drink.

There is the opposite effect here. With so little in the way of distraction, I feel extremely conscious of everything around me, but completely at peace with it, and almost a part of its rhythm.

Monday, November 8, 2010

DAY 3 - Fowler Shack - Tuesday, October 26th, 2010










Another unseasonably warm day here.

Took advantage of this by spending part of the morning sketching the Fowler Shack and the Fuller-Bessay shack. Fuller-Bessay is the other shack that you can see in close proximity to Fowler in some of the pictures I’ve posted. Unlike many of the shacks, the caretakers of Fuller-Bessay have occasionally stopped into their shack since I’ve been here. I know this because I was startled by the gleaming red lights of their jeep Cherokee careening over the sand dune ‘roads’ late last night.

Fuller & Bessay are the last names of the original owners, but now the shack is looked after and lived in by Peter Clemons and Marianne Benson. There is a fair amount of controversy over the ownership of the shacks and you can read more about that here if you are interested:
http://www.provincetownbanner.com/article/news_article/_/42165/News/7/6/2006

After some drawing, I spent the majority of the day hiking through the dunes and better orienting myself with the surrounding landscape. With temperatures in the upper 60’s it felt more like summer than late fall, and I found myself shedding many layers of clothing throughout my hike. I’ve included pictures in this post of the Margo-Gelb shack, as well as more of Fowler, and Fuller-Bessay.

The experience of climbing a soaring sand dune only to discover an equally dramatic valley below you, as I did today, is really awesome. One of these “valleys” resembles a large sand bowl, and I was amused to see someone had arranged pinecones in a formation at the center of the bowl (pictured). It's intriquging to see other signs of life out here besides coyote and snake tracks in the sand, or the occasional water bottle on the beach. Speaking of litter, it is very difficult to witness how much garbage there is near the ocean, one of the disgusting and selfish parts of modern life that I had hoped to be able to forget about while I’m here. ..

One of the abandoned shacks here has a sign on the outside of it that reads: “Please do not break the windows. You will find nothing of value here except a little solitude.” It’s true. It's unbelievable to me that these little buildings have been dotting this small strip of seashore for longer than half a century. Walking into Fowler, and into C-Scape, I was met with the same unmistakable feeling that I was not alone. There is an almost overwhelming sense of history in these “buildings” and a very palpable presence of its past residents. It is not the feeling of a ghost per se, but more so of an implied understanding that you are in a sacred place, similar in weight to entering a place of worship.

After my hike today the sun began to set. I thought it would be great to open up one of the (many) bottles of wine I had brought and have a glass while watching the sunset. By the time I returned to the shack though, I was surprised by the amount of energy I still had despite a full day of hiking. It was still very warm out, so I opted to go for a run along the beach.

I almost never run. While I like to think of myself as an athletic person, I tend to favor playing sports or weight training to running. In the city and suburbs, it just feels too monotonous. But, this trip is about pressing the reset button on everything, so I put on the bathing suit I had felt foolish packing only 3 days earlier and ran east along the ocean. As the sun set in front of me, I ran toward it feeling every grain of rough, wet sand under my feet. After a certain amount of time (the notion of time and location is so abstract when traveling on sand) I passed a group of seals (at least 20) that were hanging out less than 10 feet from the beach.

We looked at each other for a while and then I continued running. They seemed to follow me in the water for a little while at least, but maybe I was imagining this. Oddly enough, during this run I had the 1980’s classic “I Ran,” playing in my head. Apropos considering my companions on this run were, in fact, A Flock of Seagulls.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Day Two - Monday October 25th, 2010 Fowler Shack







Woke up this morning at 7:45 despite having set my new ($6.99 @ Target) battery operated alarm clock for 6:00. Thought it would be a good idea to get in the habit of early waking to see every day’s Cape Cod sunrise, but I was too late today. I suspect that I did not hear the very weak chime of the clock over the ear plugs I had stuffed into my head before hitting the pillow. I wear ear plugs in NYC occasionally when I need to drown out the 24 hour noise of 6th Avenue 16 floors below our apartment. In this case I brought them to smooth the transition to the extreme silence of the dunes. I remembered from my 2007 stay at C-Scape, that trying to fall asleep with the natural soundtrack of the shack could be difficult – creaking sounds of the wooden frame, scurrying rodents under the shack and amidst the beams over head. Not to mention the howl of coyotes and even once the sound of a group of them racing around the shack.

Well, either way I did manage to get 10 hours of sleep! Can’t remember the last time I achieved this. Certainly not when John and I have been sleeping in the same bed. Multiplying the amount of sleepers in a bedroom has always meant dividing the number of good sleep hours for me. This is not John’s fault, but I think rather my body’s ability to sense an opportunity for my sleep demons to have an audience. I hope I don’t sleepwalk here. There is a bed here, but last night I slept in a sleeping bag on top of the bed. It is my hope that the constraints of the zippered confines will deter any sleep related movement.

Overnight, the temperature rose considerably. This was a good thing, because the fire log left burning probably didn’t take long to extinguish once I’d fallen asleep.

Walking over the high crest of sand behind the shack this morning with a cup of coffee in hand, I was greeted by the Atlantic Ocean and not a single person in either direction as far as my eyes could see. I decide I’ll spend every morning this way while I’m here. What A meditative way to begin a new day and a new week. If I were in Manhattan I would still be asleep right now.

Another part of the day here is spent pumping water. There is a well located beneath the shack and a pump (pictured) that rises out of the earth as a revelation of modernity. Near the pump are several gallon jugs and two buckets filled with “prime” water. In order to get water to flow freely from the pump, you must slowly pour a steady stream of water into the pump with one hand while simultaneously pumping the crank with your other hand. There is a strip of leather located within the pump which needs to get wet in order to create the proper suction to force the water from the well. Cranking the pump at first creates a gasping echo sound, but after about a minute of doing this consistently, you can feel something catch and soon enough crystal clear water is pours from the water spout -- A very satisfying feeling!! First I refill the prime buckets and jugs, and then I fill several 2.5 gallon sized Poland Spring water cubes (the ones with the plastic spigots). These containers of well water will be used to wash dishes, etc. The water hasn’t been tested, so I was instructed to bring a gallon of water per day for drinking and cooking. You reconsider the amount of water you need to use when you have to haul it back up the sand hill to your shack.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Part II Day One at the Dune Shack Sunday 10/24/10




As I write this I am wearing an LED battery operated headlamp. It got dark about an hour ago, but it was a very grey day here to begin with. This is the second time I've stayed in a dune shack. My first experience was a much longer stay in August of 2007 at the Cohen shack, which is now called C-Scape.

I think this experience will be different though, mostly because of the season change. In August, I didn't have to worry about keeping warm. I lived in a bathing suit during that stay and could cool off in the Atlantic ocean behind the shack whenever I needed. I took long hikes through the dunes and the sun didn't set until after 8.

I was also twenty four years old that summer, and single. Not that it did me much good - even as a young gay guy in a vacation hotspot I was very serious about painting and making a significant amount of art, the reason I had been awarded the residency in the first place...

There is a wood burning stove here (pictured), and when I arrived this afternoon the shack's previous guests were gracious enough to have a toasty fire burning for me. I've never started a fire before or even tended one, but there is plenty of firewood, newspaper, and kindling so it can't be that hard, right? And, I brought instructions printed from eHow.com on how to use a wood burning stove which I fully intend to use as kindling once I get the hang of things.

Still some remaining questions...like will the fire burn out over night when I'm sleeping? Should I extinguish it before I sleep? Aren't you never supposed to leave a a burning fire unattended?

Take note of the bedroom photo in my previous post. Yes, that's a Louisville Slugger on the nightstand. My father suggested I take this with me to fend off any dune lurkers. Thanks for the creepy advice, Dad.

Day One at the Dune Shack Sunday 10/24/10







It's almost 6:30 PM and completely dark where I am. This is day one of a week long stay at Fowler dune shack. Earlier this afternoon, I was dropped off here at Fowler (pictured), one of 19 shacks located within the Peaked Hill Bars National Register Historic District, in Provincetown, MA. "The primitive nature of the structure - no electricity, indoor plumbing, or telephone - and its physical isolation allow for uninterrupted solitude and refuge." - that is how TheCompact.org's website succinctly describes the dune shack experience, and it is quite accurate.


The Compact is an organization that consists of some good spirited Cape Codders who facilitate artist residencies and shack stays for artists, writers, environmentalists, and really anyone who expresses an interest in living in one of these rustic shelters. The cottage is named after its original owners and builders, Stan and Laura Fowler c. 1949. It is a 1-story 3-room, side-gable frame structure supported by wood piers. The bedroom was added in the 1960's and the bathroom in the 1980's.

Early last month, I was alerted that there was an open week at Fowler for the last week in October. I entered my name in a random drawing and was picked as the alternate for the week. When the first name drawn couldn't get a week off from work on such short notice, the opportunity was passed to me. So, that's how I got here.

This blog will serve as a record of my time here and a form of companion while I'm here alone. Stay tuned.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

WATERCOLOR NOTE CARDS FOR SALE!


CLICK HERE TO BROWSE AND PURCHASE WATERCOLOR NOTE CARDS


I was inspired to create a line of note cards to sell directly to the public after the overwhelmingly response to my "Apple Field" card design which was offered through City Harvest, Inc. this winter. With the help of City Harvest, over 12,500 prints were sold to clients including Marc Jacobs International who purchased them them to use as their company's holiday card.

While I continue to sell my original watercolors through MichaelLyonsStudio.com, I am excited to offer these archival prints at everyday prices. There are five designs for sale. The paintings were carefully selected for their broad appeal with each one being an appropriate fit for many occasions. Each boxed set of 8 cards arrives with matching envelopes via priority mail.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

pink floyd chalk drawing





Roger Waters recently announced his plans to perform Pink Floyd's "The Wall" on a new worldwide tour. As its centerpiece, the tour will feature a wall being built and torn down as a means of honoring soldiers and civilians who've died in war. To help promote the tour and its message, I joined forces with GoGorilla Media to help execute Water's vision: large scale chalk drawings of an anti-war Dwight D. Eisenhower quote, written in Pink Floyd's signature font. In order to have maximum impact, I completed two 12'x15' drawings in locations with heavy foot traffic: Manhattan's Union Square and McCarren Park, in Williamsburg, Brooklyn(pictured). Here is the part of the Eisenhower quote I drew:

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed."

the rest of it is: "The world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children...This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from an iron cross."

Sunday, June 6, 2010

wedding portraits

My friends, Angela Attento and Diego Brenes, were married this past December in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Around the time of their wedding, Angela, (a history buff) was reading about the life of John Adams when she was inspired by the traditional wedding portraits he and his wife, Abigail, posed for shortly after their nuptials. Angela commissioned me to create similar portraits of her and Diego, painted with an eye towards early American portraiture. In addition to having new art for their home, the paintings also doubled as artwork for the couple's wedding announcements.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

An Unkindness of Ravens & A Business of Ferrets



Despite my penchant for more sophisticated subject matter, I know it's good to challenge myself in an area that I don't normally work in. In keeping with this idea, I accepted a job to create two spreads for a children's book proposal.

The book highlights collective animal names, many of which have become extinct in our common language (despite their often colorful imagery)! The first image is for "An Unkindness of Ravens." The second illustrates, "A Business of Ferrets."

Tuesday, April 27, 2010



Boston Mustang, 9x12 watercolor.

Sometimes I need a departure from what I usually paint.

I came across this automobile on Boylston Street, in Boston last month. It was a late day in March, right when the trees were starting to bud. Sitting in the sun, with its gleaming coat of shamrock colored paint, this car seemed like a very fitting ride for a spring day in Boston.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

racehorse watercolors




I painted these in 2009 using an experimental process of watercolor and ink on canvas designed specifically for watercolor. For a long time I've wanted to make watercolors on a larger scale, and these canvases measuring 2' x 3' feet are a step in that direction.

These are two different horses I observed in the paddock at Saratoga Racecourse. The paddock is where the horses get saddled up before their race. Every race goer seems to have their own unique betting formula, but I seem to have the most luck when I'm placing bets after hanging out around the paddock and watching the horses just before their run. Their demeanor right before a race can tell you a lot about how they will perform. While some appear anxious, and others are proud, the two I painted just seemed oblivious to it all.


2'x3'
Watercolor/Ink on archival canvas
For sale, please inquire for pricing via email.