Autumn Haze

Columbus Day weekend, that lovely 3rd day off at the height of the autumn season -- a wonderful time of year! Today a haze of gold -- I can't think of a better way to describe it -- has softened the sunlight and the gardens and pathways are dappled with the leaves that are falling each moment.

Going through some sketches from the past months, I found these -- simple watercolors, no great detail or angst went into them. But I tend to like them, as their "sketchiness" seems to match the season. 

Small Pond, New Hampshire

As I travel back and forth to work or on a weekend jaunt, I pass so many ponds and small lakes, not to mention the beautiful Connecticut River. In the late afternoon on my way home, I drive the back roads to avoid commuter traffic, passing farms and old barns, even a vineyard or two. 

I love the way the sunlight hits the side of a farmhouse, striking the old, worn sideboards in a dazzling white against the autumn maples and dark green pines. 

Berkshire Barn

And then the sun begins to dip below the treeline. I know in a few weeks I won't even be able to see the sun on my way home, as it will be twilight by that time. 

So, for now, I relish that lovely dusk sky, flooded with rose and peach and lavender, when the light is riding the rim between day and night and all seems hushed.

Dipping Sun, East Weatogue

In nature, light creates the color. In the picture, color creates the light. 

Hans Hofmann

*   *   *

in just one breath
last leaf falls
skies open wide

[haiku by artist]

Opposition

 

Restlessness surging -- gray skies and clouds scudding overhead -- winds blowing, whipping trees into a frenzy --

The changing seasons always seems to make one unsettled, as if trying to get the sea legs squared away beneath one --

The urge to drive straight north up to the Canadian border non-stop, to see mountains and hillsides slipping gold and scarlet petticoats mixed with the scent of pine --

One theory in American history is that the westward expansion was fueled by the growing sense of claustrophobia here on the East Coast, with its' crowded cities and towns.

I believe it. Henry Thoreau's acreage around Walden Pond is surrounded by developments and corporations leaking out from the Boston area. The Cape is a long string of beach motels and cottages, many strung with for sale signs.

But one must slog on. Soon we adjust -- to the light, to the growing cold, to the crowded highways and strip malls.

An escape hatch is needed -- where do we find them?

Inside our heads as we feel for the edges of our space . . . 

in one breath

leaves fall --

skies open wide

*   *   *

You see, I want a lot.
Perhaps I want everything:
the darkness that comes with every infinite fall
and the shivering blaze of every step up.
Rilke 

Evoking the Intangible in Art

Curve of the Wind
8.5" x 11"
watercolor, wax, oil pastel & pastel

How do we evoke the intangible in art, in painting or drawing, in oils or watercolor? How do we capture an emotion, such as yearning or despair? Art is such a silent language. It seems simpler in writing or poetry, even in music. I realize I'm simplifying drastically, but still . . .

With this watercolor/mixed media painting, I was consciously going for that free-spirited thing -- outside the window early summer had erupted and I believe the season persuaded my choice of colors and of the large, scrawled curving lines and marks. How could it not?

I was experimenting with the use of wax crayons and oil pastels, as well as soft pastels in combination with the watecolors, beforehand and while wet.

It was difficult to "control" what was occuring, but that was my intent -- to allow the materials and mediums to show me the way, to guide me and surprise me.

This painting is truly a celebration of the season:

Warm summer breezes
whip my hair
the colors of birdsong spin
through the trees