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I've painted lots of dogs and I've painted lots of ocean waves. This series of five paintings I completed recently was a fun way to combine both. While walking on the beach I came upon these three retrievers playing in the surf and having a grand old time.  One dog was obviously older, with a muzzle going to white, and another--the bravest--seemed the youngest.  I took lots of photos as they retrieved sticks (of various sizes), wave jumped, swam, and  just splashed around having fun. It was a joy to watch them  that day and to see them play. The series is available through Argosy Gallery in Bar Harbor, Maine. See my gallery page for further information.

Painting makes me happy. Tech issues make me cry. 

You may picture me sitting at an easel most of the day, but really, that's not the case. As an artist, I'm a small business owner and a solo practitioner. If I don't do it, it doesn't get done. I'm the sales force, the data entry clerk, and the marketing, production, and finance departments rolled into one. Sure--it's a very, very small business. But all the moving parts are there. So without those computers and the programs and software I depend on to keep my business running, it's not. Running, that is.

So why did dire thoughts of retirement enter my head? I've reached the three-quarter century mark, a point when most of my peers have decided to put their feet up and enjoy lives of intended leisure. But there's no good reason for an artist to retire, or at least to stop making art, as long as there's more pleasure than pain in the process.

But here it is: Computers are a pain. Equipment that doesn't work is a pain, and completely different than solving problems in the two dimensions of a painting. That's a joyful process. Painting badly never makes me cry; hour after hour of technical frustration does.

But in the end, I guess I'm not ready to give up. I'll get the darned things repaired and start in on new and as yet unimagined levels of frustration with updated programs and operating systems. I'll remember that there's beautiful stuff out there to paint, that there's so much still to learn, and that painting makes me happy.

I'm pleased to report that my painting, "July Day," was accepted in to the first virtual show of the American Impressionist Society.  With just under 2200 entries for this national show,  I am truly something MORE than pleased to be represented.  To see all of the 290 paintings in the show,  please see the AIS Online Exhibition.  AIS has put up a very nice flipbook on their site so  that you can view all of the paintings in the show.  To see the "July Day" image, go to:

 https://online.flippingbook.com/view/320903/59/

"July Day," 12X16 oil, is a plein air painting created on Beatty Road  in Harford County, Maryland. It is for sale @ $1250 through the Harford Plein Air Festival 2020, sponsored by the Maryland Center for the Arts. Please contact Amanda Pugh ([email protected]) if interested in purchasing this painting.

For many years I've been known for painting small works in oils. Some are really small--many hundreds of 6x6 and 8x8 paintings have emerged from my brush and made their way into galleries and client's homes. I also paint a lot of en plein air pieces--even 5 years ago, plein air work accounted for more than 90% of my annual output. With the limitations on size that painting outdoors placed on completing a piece before the sun and shadow patterns shifted too much and with my personal  limits on stamina, my outdoor work never exceeded 300 square inches. A 12x24 was the largest I would attempt in my nearly always one-session paintings.

Today I paint about equally in the studio and outdoors, but I still create a lot of the small square paintings that have been popular at my galleries. These are primarily studio pieces, with photographic references that can catch fleeting moments of beautiful light and are a joy to translate into paint. 

I'm not about to abandon either small works or plein air painting, but as I approach what is likely the last decade of my active life (I just celebrated my 75th birthday), I'm feeling the urge to create larger paintings.  I know those will require me to slow down--and to prepare more. There will be a longer trajectory to the point where I actually pick up my brush and a lot more  preparation to do before that. As an art teacher, I'm well aware of  those steps, but they often get shortchanged in plein air work, where there may only be time for a quick shadow/sun pattern sketch and then a fast lay-in on the canvas before beginning to apply paint in earnest. 

It's important to me to try to keep the freshness inherent in my plein air work as I segue to the studio with larger pieces. I've seen too many top-notch painters work from their compelling and lively plein air oil "sketch" and unknowingly turn it into something dead on the canvas --when it was meant to be big and beautiful. I'm not quite sure how to prevent that from happening in my own work, but I believe that if I am very conscientious with my preparatory steps, spend more time on composing, and slow down enough to make a careful drawing without errors, I can paint in the way I am accustomed to--freely and with bold strokes that speak for themselves within the framework that I have carefully built.

 I read posts from artists who find they can't work to music, period.  There are those who like music without vocals, which they find distracting. And there are those who find their muse helped along by classical music, country music, rock, or whatever their current favorite may be.

 So I'm writing about what I’ve been listening to in my studio--Jason Isbell--and it's all my son Jeff’s doing. I got myself  (happily) stuck on listening to Margaritaville on Sirius Radio in the car, and not much else, except for occasional forays into the classic rock stations when less favored songs came on. And at home—nothing, really. The Jason Isbell CD’s were offered as a loan—7 of them—with Jeff saying, “I think you’ll like these. If you do, I’ll get you some of his music for a birthday present.” Not only did I get the Jason Isbell CD’s, but a list of every cut on every album with his, his wife’s, and his daughter’s favorites highlighted. 

So you’re going to say, well, Jason Isbell’s been around with his own band since 2007, so where were you? And I’d have to say that maybe I’ve reached the age--it was a 75th birthday-- where someone I trust has to introduce me to music I’ll probably enjoy. And I do. I love this music. It's deceptively simple, with repetitive melodic choruses you quickly learn and stand-out lyrics.

It’s been the perfect accompaniment to painting in the studio—I can absorb the lyrics, wondering at the best lines, appreciate the musicality, and even sing along as my brain works out the problems on the canvas in front of me. Armed with a CD for my car changer, this music has even made my now infrequent forays in the world to do errands freeing and even joyous. So it really doesn’t matter how late I came to this. It’s here now.

There's lots of Isbell's music on YouTube--songs, concerts, as well as interviews. I've always preferred absorbing the original "product"myself--be it a novel, artwork, or music--before getting any background on the art or its creator, but you may be different. I was glad that I had  listened to many hours of Isbell's music before I ever heard an interview with this very articulate man.

For anyone who wants a link to a great concert, see below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jm6GXnV7c6E

Got myself out painting this week--hooray! I didn't venture far--just a few steps from the side of the house to get this view of my early spring gardens.  I wanted to paint the daffodils before they faded and get out there before the azaleas all sprang to life. (That's another painting.)  I needed some motivation to get my outdoor painting gear together and  just get out there and paint. Like everyone else, I am stuck at home for the foreseeable future. Unlike a lot of people, though, right out my front door are the gardens I've built and maintained over the years, now coming to life in the spring sunshine.  They've been calling me for a while,  and I finally responded. There's lots more out there that I want to paint, and I certainly don't have to go far to do it.

ARTBARN WEEKEND IS JUNE 14, 15 & 16 this year. Most years, I mount this huge sale  during June in our Amish barn and move most of my unsold artwork out from my home studio to the barn for just one weekend. We fill both floors of the barn, usually with hundreds of my paintings, some  older, some unframed, but mostly current, framed work. As a plein air painter, I am also a prolific painter. So without these massive annual sales, I would have no place to show, or even store, my newest work.  The barn sale is open to the public for just one weekend a year. The sale is much enhanced by the mini antiques mart that my sister-in-law, who is from Chestertown, MD, sets up on half of the first floor of the barn, with all of the very special finds she has collected in the last year from the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

This year I will give away three small original oil paintings in a free drawing open to attendees of ARTBARN WEEKEND. You can view the 3 paintings on my website--Sails at Rest, Peaceful Marina, and Peaceful River. 

ARTBARN HOURS ARE 10-4, FRIDAY, SATURDAY & SUNDAY, JUNE 14, 15 & 16. 

BROOKES' BARN, 16442 J.M. PEARCE RD. MONKTON, MD 21111

Painted in Flintstone, Maryland, during the 2018 Mountain Maryland Plein Air competition based in Cumberland, Maryland.  It's not hard to see from the painting that it was raining when I painted this piece. I took some shelter under the hatchback of my SUV and I stayed relatively dry while the paper took on a little more water than I was used to. But I like the painting and it surely gives the feeling of the day it was painted. There's a beautiful stretch of road in Flintstone that looks over a dip and rise of the near landscape to the mountains beyond, and that's what I wanted to capture, The cows arrived on the scene pretty much at the point I thought I might be finished, and they improved the composition so much that they were added at the end.  I'm thinking of doing more watercolors in the plein air competitions I take part in. It requires less gear and is therefore a less cumbersome medium to transport when painting outdoors, but it's a lot more unpredictable than oils. And then there's the issue of framing on the spot for these competitions. Some of my colleagues at these events have figured out how to frame watercolors without glass, and that's  my next step. Not fun to transport large pieces of glass and frames to an event in order to be prepared to have a ready-to-hang painting  by the end of the competition.

For a painter who likes painting nocturnes, Bar Harbor at night offers great subjects--just enough neon to make it interesting, great skies, and always, the water. The neon moose sign is iconic for Bar Harbor, and I've wanted to paint it ever since I first saw it.

This is the first of the new batch of Maine paintings I'll be sending up to Argosy Gallery in Bar Harbor, and I'll be painting additional small works of Maine subjects for Landmark Gallery, in Kennebunkport. It's always exciting to provide work for the new season at galleries. The season for Argosy and Landmark galleries is virtually identical, running from May through October, with some extra weekends at the winter holidays. Both galleries post their artists' work and make sales through the months the physical gallery is closed. I like the "small works" format because gives me an opportunity to work through many of my  photos of Maine subjects and keep up a steady flow of new work. The small pieces--usually  6x6 or 8x8--seem to move quickly at the two galleries, and that's just another bonus.