Winter Solstice Eve

winter pond

snow fields

New England Barn

snow rose

North Canton Horse Farm

winter passion

Blessings on this eve

of Winter Solstice

Remnants Series

a fiddling kind of day -- 

bits and pieces, remnants 

of old paintings, 

trashed fabrics from unfinished 

objects. 

building a collage 

is a bit like gardening. 

you dig, 

transplant, 

snip and prune until 

what is before you pleases, 

affirms -- 

or perhaps more

like daydreaming,

reverie.

thoughts flow,

like water and

memories surface --

only to submerge

when within 

reach.


 


 

Summer Sketches

So, back from the week at the Cape, recharged and ready to create -- except that July has hit with 95+ degree weather and humidity that weighs you down like a load of wet sand -- ugh! Just two small 8" x 8" watercolor sketches; I did do others but even smaller (2.5 x 4). 

I think that these two somehow capture a sense of atmosphere, of simple shapes and times of day.  Perhaps, maybe not.  Watercolor does seem to capture one's impressions quickly and, at this size, it's difficult to even try to get any definitive details, especially when using a fairly large brush.

Not terribly interested in detail or photographic reality; more an essence of place and time of day.

Although on this one my husband exclaimed, "Oh, look! An atomic blast!" Ha, ha, very funny . . . well, I suppose it does look a bit like that. 

But with this long holiday weekend, I did work on some new oil paintings, again trying to capture a sense of light, of shapes and patterns rather than traditional land/seascapes. Also, tried to work from memory rather than photos taken on cellphones, etc.  Under the extreme brightness of Cape light, details tend to disappear, things shimmer and fade, then come into greater clarity before disappearing altogether.  Think about when you lie on the beach on your stomach and look down the sand at the people and the water and the light -- more like a chimera than anything!

As soon as they are dry, I'll try to take some pics; however, I may spring for a professional to do that as they are too big to scan. My time is a bit crunched these days and patience is wearing thin to be fiddling around with cameras and tripods.

It's that time of year again. Autumn is creeping in, bringing roiling skies and chilled winds from the north. The light is fading earlier each evening and, no matter how I race home from work to grab a few minutes on the deck, I never quite make it, the light dipping down below the stand of pines . . .

This season is quite dull, so far. The tropical storms from late August ripped so many trees apart, scattering branches and leaves that now there isn't much for autumn to work with -- all is sere and brown.  The splendor of a New England autumn is a faint memory from years past . . .

But the beauty of autumn is still there if one looks hard enough, long enough. Maybe it's not something you see but rather feel through the other senses -- the smell of the north winds, the crisp cold air that tingles and tantalizes, the first bite of pumpkin pie or a macintosh apple, the warmth one gathers from the fireplace, a truly wonderful spot to sit and dream . . .

 

weaving thoughts and memories around like so many strands of ribbon and yarn. And as the garden slowly moves into its yearly slumber, a stand of old bourbon roses waves as you wander by, lifting their drowsy heads to give one last scent, a parting gift . . .

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively,

wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically

that he remakes it in his own image.

Joan Didion

(all artwork and photography by K. Marszycki)

Paintings for August

last weeks of summer

sea change in the air

humid weight lifts and

gardens spark with a clear, bright light

wading through ocean waters

dizzy with currents

that ripple and tug
pulling you further
and further
beyond the shores

drifts of sea thrift and thistle

fairy wands that tap the sunlight
calling you to the dance

shadows at twilight

lace treetops and the

last rays spill 

through tired leaves . . .

Time for Art-Making

Virginia Woolf's seminal work, A Room of One's Own, described three elements necessary for a woman to succeed in this world:   her own space, her own money and her own time. These days I believe that time is the most elusive, that our lives are being whittled down, byte by byte, despite all the gadgets that are supposed to save us time.

So it was such a pleasure this past week to take a vacation with nowhere in particular to go except to work in the garden, begin a quilt for my brother's new baby, walk, swim, read and mentally just wander about -- no required destinations, no agendas beyond watching the weather.

Obviously between digging in the dirt and other things, I made time to simply play about with paints and papers, not trying to create something for the gallery necessarily but rather to explore and enjoy whatever evolved. It was also my idea to use up as many materials on hand as possible rather then drive around buying more stuff -- the old "use up what's in the refrigerator first" concept -- and if I could recycle any old scribbles by priming over and beginning again, that was just fine with me. 

First Blossom

9" x 12"

acrylic on Nujabi paper
$175

or Matted Print

The Earth Forgets Nothing

12" x 16"

acrylic on Nujabi paper
$175

or Matted Print

An Oblong Day

12" x 16"

acrylic on Nujabi paper
$175

Zephyr

12" x 16"

acrylic on paper
$175

"Eloquence is spoken through the labor of hands . . . " 

Terry Tempest Williams, 

Finding Beauty in a Broken World

New Exhibit & Partnership

My new home

Selected art by moi

another view of LBG

more works by moi

love those wood floors and tin ceiling!

As artists we all dream about it, work for it, angst over it -- and then it finally arrives:  representation.  I'm still pinching myself!

The Left Bank Gallery of Essex, CT is a wonderful light-filled space, situated in a beautiful village on the Connecticut River where working shipyards, boutiques and restaurants, cafes and bookshops line the narrow streets and tiny byways of this typical New England historic town, complete with a green and an old-fashioned bandstand.  Each month, the Gallery hosts a reception to highlight a particular artist, complete with music, good food and libations.  Summer is a busy time for Essex with the shipyards, yacht clubs and harbor as it is on the route of the Intercoastal Waterway that goes from Florida up to Maine and the Canadian coastal areas.

Well, I'm keeping fingers and toes crossed that some of these paintings will find good homes, either on dry land or afloat!