Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label summer. Show all posts

05 September 2021

New Pics for a Gloomy Labor Day Weekend

Cool and damp here in Southern New England -- family get-together has been delayed until tomorrow and spending time catching up on the changes I've been making for Coral Sky Studio.  Soon, I'll be putting up a Facebook Page, a landing page and more.  But for now, I'm loading up my paintings and photographs to Fine Art America.  I hope you'll stop by and take a peek!

Some vibrant summer blossoms to cheer us up -- enjoy!







05 July 2021

Summer pastel series

 

Every time I travel to Cape Cod for a summer vacation I feel revived -- there truly is something about "Cape Light," as many artists and photographers refer to it.  Colors seem more vivid, the light almost crystalline in its clarity.  Unless, of course, if it's raining or foggy!  

This year we were right on the beach so to watch the colors of the various beach grasses and marshes was perfect -- early morning, midday, sunset and dusk.  This is a pastel-and-watercolor sketch, a mix of mediums that I find fun to work with.  I use Strathmore Bristol paper, which is usually used for graphic design and manga artwork.  But I like the way it holds the watercolor and allows me to overlay the layers of pastel. 

I'll be working on more of these sketches, working now from memory, and will soon be uploading this painting to my space on Fine Art America soon if you're interested in a print, a notecard and more!

Happy Summer!

"I hope to make pictures like I walk -- under a spell, an instinct of motion,

a kind of knowing that is essentially indirect and sideways."

(Ellen Meloy, Anthropology of Turquoise)

03 October 2015

Ode to summer

Summer 2015 has slipped away, almost overnight it seems. Two weeks ago we had 90 degree temperatures, but today it's about 48 degrees with winds and rain.

The good thing about this weather is that it forces one inside, something I haven't done in awhile. Every free moment when not working I was out in the garden or walking or on the deck. Working in an office 40+ hours a week does that to one. 

So on this rainy day I've been sorting through the photos I snapped throughout the summer weeks and revisited Photoshop while waiting for the laundry to finish. How exciting is that? Later today I'll throw a log or two on the fire and pull out my yarns and begin to sort out projects for the winter. 

Here are a few of my favorite shots from the garden -- I hope you enjoy!

hosta leaf



quiet



petals at dusk



vintage blossom



22 September 2013

On the cusp of two seasons

Today is the first day of autumn. A welcome change but a bittersweet moment as I gaze at my garden and see the blooms fading, drooping, dropping. 

But at the same time the skies are that clear, bright cobalt blue and the air is crisp. Above the leaves are shifting to gold and amber, ruby red and wine. So odd, standing on the cusp of two seasons.

Images from earlier in the spring and summer, sweet momentoes -- 

Anna Magnolia



Azaleas




-- and my favorite of all flowers, the rose -- 


Last Roses

Two Roses

03 August 2013

How Heat Influences





Sometimes it's just a heck of a lot of fun to play with an image in a program like Photoshop or Corel Paint and see what happens. I did this image back a few weeks ago during the heat wave we had, some days hitting almost 100 degrees -- much too hot to venture outside, even in the shade until the sun sank below the treeline. Even then the air was still and thick with heat and humidity, and the buzz of cicadas was almost deafening at times.

I took this shot back in the spring around Easter (you can tell by the potted tulips), but by the time I finished altering it, I was having thoughts of Florida with these hot "Miami" colors and hues -- thus born: Floridian Sensibilities! 

It's funny -- a few years back in blogland there used to be more challenges around where you could participate in the conjuring of a new idea or image. But I don't see those much anymore. Maybe it's me, as I'm not out trolling around as much as I used to. Well --- enough goofing off. I should be doing something a bit more constructive, or at least that's what my left brain is telling me. But it's August, and I think goofing around in these final weeks of summer should be permitted, don't you? 

 I hope to make pictures like I walk -- under a spell, an instinct of motion,
a kind of knowing that is essentially indirect and sideways.

Ellen Meloy, Anthropology of Turquoise

21 June 2013


slender spray 
drifting 
on a dark plane --

why does one 
waver so, 
on this summer day? 

*   *   *

release has come finally -- a week's retreat to the Cape, to soak in the sun, walk in the sand, read late into the night with fireflies tapping one's shoulders and knees . . . 

to re-charge the creative batteries, like an old junk car, slightly tipped toward the earth, rumbling along, running on fumes . . . 

much to think about, nothing to think about . . . much to discard as so much unnecessary luggage . . . to lighten the load and find fresh glee in each day . . .

Happy Summer to all my blogging friends!

 

 

05 August 2012

Into August already . . . hard to believe. Evening shadows come a bit too quickly. A chill lingers in the air most mornings. And yet the sunsets continue to amaze and inspire . . .

Setting Sun [watercolor on paper]
    


Still trying to keep my hand on the brush, the brush to paper -- anything to ensure that I don't lose the thread of creativity. Sometimes it is difficult, but then the eye is drawn to a distant light, a spot on the horizon that shimmers, that infuses one with hope . . .

Drawn to a Distant Point [oil on paper]

. . . and hope is the thing with wings that perches forever in the mind. One only has to allow it to spread wing and take flight.

Summer Flight [watercolor on paper]

01 July 2012

Just returned from that vacation I wrote about a few weeks ago -- glorious time! So good to break away from the daily grind, to read, walk the beach, laze on the deck and stare at the trees and sky and clouds . . .

It is so damn difficult to empty the mind of nitty-gritty details, of the stuff that makes up everyday life, to expand and mentally drift, to open and empty all at the same time. Perhaps staying in a cottage that does not belong to one, no need to clean and tidy, no need to weed and mow -- that may be one of the keys. However, there is also something special about the Cape -- the light, the air, the smell of pine and ocean -- so conducive to wanting to pick up the paints and just play . . .

Small watercolor sketches from some days at the beach; others to follow. Some I need to finish, others are simply pencil sketches. Have you ever noticed how people at the beach, caught in a moment of respite, unaware of being watched, are just great for subject matter?


Storm rolling in
watercolor, 5" x 7"


 Long View
watercolor, 5" x 7"

I've never kept a sketching journal -- yes, plenty of sketches on loose scraps but never a journal.  Thought I would try to do this; even bought myself one of those tiny little watercolor travel things with the tiny pots and a collapsible brush (Winsor & Newton).  Quite fun, really!  

And this is just simply a lovely pic of a gorgeous hollyhock I came across while walking through the village of Chatham --


What a knock-out, uh?  Stopped me dead in my tracks as I've never seen a holly that particular shade of soft pink.

The other part of our time at the Cape I loved was finding all these lovely old cape houses nestled in tiny gardens and such --

This shot I altered once I got home, trying to capture a "vintage" look and feel.  The cottage itself was a soft, weathered beige and the spray on the door was a muted rose -- just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!  

So, tomorrow is back to work.  But that's all right -- I've had my time to unwind and gather up the ragged edges, mentally and creatively.  I suppose that's what a summer vacation is all about, isn't it?  A small yet precious island of serenity that gives one's spirit a chance to replenish . . . 


What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, 
the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, 
and with as yet no sign to remind one 
that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.” 

Gertrude Jekyll




 

17 August 2011

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 . . .

20 July 2011

momentary lucidity

lucid
photo by K. E. Marszycki


dappled shadows on the lawns,
prisms sparkling on the river,
then sliding into the purpled edges of the shoreline,
ocean sunlight so bright it makes one slip back
onto the sand and drift asleep . . . 
momentary lucidity




13 January 2011

Deep into Winter

north light,



textures,




colors leeched by
snowfall . . .

the body rests,
the mind restless,

watching veils
blow about
sleeping gardens,

rustling a lone bird
back to cover . . . 

summer 
a faint memory

of sunlight and sea salt 
breezes

that tapped and danced
 along rooftops and down alleys



seeking a way back
to the beach, to home waters . . .


13 August 2010

Nocturne

dreamscape1
in the evening shadows
the garden shimmers
each blossom pulses
tossing its hues
to the fading light . . .

last night i sat in the gloaming
shadows stretching thin
across the lawns

birds swooped
as if scooping up the last rays to carry home
back to the nest . . .

fuschia and gold stained
the shadows that knelt
along the edges of the garden
cicadas rasped their vespers
seeking love in the darkness . . .

will i remember this come January?
yes
and yes again . . .

03 August 2010

On an August afternoon

Dunes
acrylic, gouache & pastel

august
summer winding down
a breath of north wind
tickles sun-burnt skin

dunes slumber
under the weight of heat
waters sluggish

tiny birds
dodge about wetlands
no longer wet . . .

i close my eyes
to the bright light and
dream of crisp breezes
and cooled stone beneath
my feet

autumn is knocking
at the door
on the threshold

i roll over . . .

22 July 2010

Summer Thoughts to Share . . .

Heat, ma'am! it was so dreadful here, that I found there was nothing left for it
but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones.
~Sydney Smith, Lady Holland's Memoir

Footpath to the Sea
oil on canvas
11 x 14

These past few weeks have been fairly brutal in the heat and humidity.  It saps one's strength, one's resolve to do anything constructive other than lay around in a droopy mood.  On the drive to work in the early morning I find myself drifting mentally into some kind of haze, steering the car as if on automatic pilot.  The only summer blossoms one sees along the highway are the intrepid cornflowers and queen anne's lace; all else has shriveled up like dried cornstalks.



Shady Lane
oil on canvas
5 x 7

I finished working on these two oils recently; they seem to evoke the sense of deep summer, of how we almost instinctively seek out shade and cool shadowy spaces to escape the heat.  My two most favorite times of the day are my first cup of coffee on the deck, sitting on the top step in the shade cast by the beach roses and hydrangeas, watching the birds at the feeder.  It's cool and one can think clearly before the day begins.

The other time of day is in the evening when once again the shadows grow and stretch across the lawns.  I sit in one of the adirondack chairs with a glass of chilled chardonnay and watch as the birds and rabbits frolic about in the shadows.  I look up and watch the clouds, thin rivers of lace overhead -- or perhaps huge Wagnerian divas roiling across the skies presaging an incoming storm.  

Tempestuous
digitally enhanced photograph
by the artist

It's odd how we complain about the snow and the cold; we complain about the heat and the humidity.  I'm beginning to think that there is about a two-week window in the spring and in the autumn when we are content!  Well, I hope everyone is enjoying at least some parts of this summer -- 

In summer, the song sings itself.
~William Carlos Williams

02 July 2010

Summer Reading

Often summer is devoted to children's summer reading programs, complete with game sheets and prizes.  But nothing for the adults.  How sad is that?  Very.

So I thought I would share some of my summer titles that are lined up on the bookcase in the dining room, on my great-grandmother's hope chest in the living room and by my bedside nightstand.  I won't list the various mysteries scattered about in my car, on my desk and in my handbag.  Those are a year-round staple, my escape mechanism, especially British mysteries, old and new.  But that's another entry altogether . . .

Every summer I go through this ritual of planning a series of books to read over the next weeks of warm summer nights, sitting on the deck or in the garden, surrounded by birds chattering and singing as they romp from feeder to feeder.  These books must be special, not just your run-of-the-mill bestseller or mystery.  Writing that is well-crafted is rare these days, so one should savor it when found. They are books that stay with you days, weeks after finishing.  Phrases and images linger like a dream.  You find yourself thumbing through them again to find that exact passage that made your emotional skin tingle.

Terry Tempest Williams is a phenomenal writer and fighter for the natural world around us.  She is also a poet, creating wordscapes that amaze.

Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place

Another writer who I have written about before is Ellen Meloy, and this is the second book I am going to read.  I anticipate surprise, as she leaves the reader breathless in her wonderful twists and observations.

Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild


To leap to another realm, I am reading Peter Turchin's work on the imagination, maps and writers -- what a combination!  Sometimes it's a struggle, but I am intrigued by his insights and connections.

Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer


On my nightstand I usually keep a stack of poetry.  I find that after a long day at the office, working with budgets and computers, the rhythms and lyrical sounds of poetry soften the nerves and ease the mind.  I have most of Mary Oliver's works, Octavio Paz' A Tree Within and Eavan Boland, an Irish poet who now lives and teaches poetry in San Francisco, I believe.


An Origin Like Water: Collected Poems 1967-1987




Helen Humphreys is an intriguing writer, quietly serene in her writing, yet there is an underlying depth that is not obvious at first.  In this book, she writes a series of short stories based upon each time the Thames River froze over.  We shall see --  unique, I hope.

The Frozen Thames

I know there will be other books along the way, the ones you stumble on in a used bookshop while on vacation or that a friend places in your hands and claims you must read this!  And, of course, there are all those paperback mysteries scattered about as I mentioned before -- nothing like a few dead bodies to keep one's spirits up, I say.

I wish everyone a safe and fun holiday break -- and if you read 5 summer books before August 31st, you may win a prize -- who knows?  :-)))

27 June 2010

Summer Postcards

Old Ferry Point

Summer reminds me of those old postcards
we sent and received over the years -- 
cryptic notes, smudged wishes, illegible names -- 
all crammed into 3 or 4 inches of space.
They always arrived on someone's doorstep
after we had been home for days, too.

Wychmere Harbor

And the choosing of just the right card for just the right person
always a tricky deal, wasn't it?
I remember sending postcards to my boyfriend (now my husband)
and hoping to strike the right tone -- not too mushy, not to trite,
how to let him know I missed him without committing myself ?

Grey Skies

They are usually scattered throughout one's house,
in drawers and small boxes labeled vacation 
or something like that,
wrapped in a ribbon or with a bit of yarn,
tucked next to old letters and
the children's school projects in a jewelry box or drawer.
Treasures of our past lives, mementos of fun times,
fragments of a well-navigated journey
(or not)

Provincetown View

Years from now, will my children find these artifacts of my life?
Will they care and cart them back to their homes
to be tucked back into another drawer?
I hope so.

And every time they lift them to find something else,
a drift of perfume, perhaps a grain of sand,
will tumble past them
and I'll be
there . . .


All images are available as real postcards and prints
at my site on Redbubble;
(background textures created by Ghostbones,
Skeletalmess, Telzey and Playingwithbrushes on Flickr;
Custom brushes and text by myself)