a country weekend

Ramps (wild leeks) grow rampantly on our property in the Catskills. They've become quite trendy, with several articles already written about them in this spring's NY Times. Last weekend we pulled (oops, I mean harvested) some and cooked a ramps themed dinner. Rather, Bob did, with some help from Luke.   Luke made some fresh farmers cheese, served on slices of bread with ramp jam and pickled ramps. He also grilled ramps to be served with Bob's cream of ramp soup, kale with ramps, ramp risotto, and chicken cooked with, you guessed it, ramps. I drew the line at ramp desserts (having once had a garlic dinner that carried through dessert) so we had fruit cobbler with sour cream ice cream. Then after we'd all (several friends joined us) digested a little and laughed a lot, we passed around the chocolate ice cream Matt made.

What did I do? Stayed out of the kitchen. Visited friends. Read. Took a nap. Set the table. Washed lots and lots of dishes and pots and pans and strainers and blenders and…..

 I hung up one of my paintings, a big step for me, because I am pretty shy about my creative endeavors. But it's a good spot for all those greens, there in the house in the woods.

Keeping company with lilacs, roses and hyacinths, from my Bow Street Flowers trip.
Some people take their pets when they travel. I take my flowers.

all I want to do is sit on a verandah

I'm still painting all the greens. Sometimes flowers creep in. Sometimes I paint other things, but these are the ones that feel most fully realized, the most me. I'm working on some inspired by geography and topography that are different--no grids. Deltas, rivers, fields. Still plenty of greens.


Vocation
Sandra Beasley

For six months I dealt Baccarat in a casino. 
For six months I played Brahms in a mall. 
For six months I arranged museum dioramas;
my hands were too small for the Paleolithic
and when they reassigned me to lichens, I quit. 
I type ninety-one words per minute, all of them 
Help. Yes, I speak Dewey Decimal.
I speak Russian, Latin, a smattering of Tlingit. 
I can balance seven dinner plates on my arm.
All I want to do is sit on a veranda while 
a hard rain falls around me. I’ll file your 1099s. 
I’ll make love to strangers of your choice. 
I’ll do whatever you want, as long as I can do it 
on that veranda. If it calls you, it’s your calling, 
right? Once I asked a broker what he loved 
about his job, and he said Making a killing. 
Once I asked a serial killer what made him 
get up in the morning, and he said The people.

I found this poem, and many others I love on this Tumblr. It reminds me of me. One day I will make a list for you of the many jobs I've had. It's raining in Lowell; out the studio windows I see smokestacks and freight trains. Inside I look for more greens.

pine needles, fragments

 I've been painting evergreens, lots of them. A large canvas divided into grids (again) with two or three trees in each square. I started out simple, but I keep adding layers and thinking about all the ways we see them--close up, at a distance, layered with other trees, in the forest, against a house, in the house...soft needles, sharp needles, spruce, pine, fir, cypress, juniper...

When I paint something realistic I'm more interested in the idea of the thing, the sense of it, than the thing itself, so it becomes semi-abstract (or semi-realistic) like a quick glimpse out the window or a memory, or a line in a poem. Edges, fragments.

One of the things I like about painting-- I don't have to think, (beyond simple questions of color and composition). I'm completely absorbed in the moment. Like a dance or jazz--improvisation, meditation.

the gorgeous nothings

Solo retreat in Provincetown--long walks, good art, crazy sunset, interesting conversations.

"Provincetown is, always has been, an eccentrics sanctuary."

                                                  -Michael Cunningham

Green. I can't stay away.

Each little square is an exploration.

Also,

The Woman Who Lost Her Soul by Bob Shaccochis. Great book. Read it if the description makes it sound like your kind of thing.

New Directions is publishing reproductions of Emily Dickinson's writings on envelopes. The Gorgeous Nothings.

Jellyfish are taking over. And, Inside the mind of an Octopus. 

moss, olive, khaki, etc.

I'm working on changing my online habits--thinking about how I use the internet, and how it uses me. What I dislike the most about the world wide web, and what scares me, is how rapidly it has consumed so many aspects of my life. Rebecca Solnit articulates my feelings in  this wonderful essay. 

"That bygone time had rhythm, and it had room for you to do one thing at a time; it had different parts; mornings included this, and evenings that, and a great many of us had these schedules in common." 

But I've missed this place, this web log--and it feels like an actual place, and not just words and pictures on a screen. I picture a spiderweb with tiny dots on it--I'm one of the dots, and you are one too.                        

And Seamus Heaney died. I felt such a connection to him, through his poetry, his love of language and nature, of mournful beauty. Last spring  I wrote about the frog pond and how it brought to mind his great poem Death of a Naturalist. 

Recently, when I realized the raspberries were blackberries I thought of Blackberry Picking. 

"...red ones inked up and that hunger
sent us out with milk-cans, pea-tins, jam-pots
where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots."

The last time I posted paintings, Steve commented, "I'm really motived artistically by seeing these. I suddenly want to see how much red I can add to the greens before they're no longer green. Moss, olive, khaki, etc." 

Despite my passion for the color green, I didn't see that I'd been painting mostly brighter tones, that I'd missed an entire family of shades. I thought about that the next time I painted. (Thanks, Steve.)

I keep looking, and there's always something more to see.

more greens

I thought that after two green paintings I'd move on, but
I feel this urgency, like I must discover every shade of green through my paints.

Corn field green. Dappled sunlight green. Haiku green.

The changing of green to another color--

dying grass, autumn leaves.

 Edges and spaces--

 the light between pine needles, a smudge of wild rose.

Next I will focus yellows and blues--maybe that will help me understand green.

butter, buttercream, buttercup yellow, sunflower yellow, delphinium blue...

My studio is in a warehouse with about 200 other studios. One of the artists (a cartoonist) stopped by, and seeing the paintings across the room asked if I was making color charts. I had to laugh. Maybe I am. Charting all the greens of nature. Trying to, anyway.

around here

Aji gets actively involved when new flowers come into the house.

She's always happy to pose with them.

 



Masa can take them or leave them,

but she does enjoy the catnip.

It's been mild and pleasant the last couple days. 

I'd like to skip right to autumn.

Except then I'd miss out on late-summer flowers.

 

    I'm re-reading Consider This, Senora and thinking about Mexico. I've never really been to Mexico--a week at a resort in Puerto Vallerta barely counts. Anyway, Calvin Trillin, here: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/12/03/121203fa_fact_trillin makes me want to eat my way through Oaxaca. Have you ever been there?

 

Enjoy your weekend! I'm going out for Mexican food tonight.

 

Jen

 

all the greens

 I've been painting here and there for a few months now. Flowers, seascapes, a few are okay, nothing I love. Then I decided to paint green (you know how much I love that color) and finally, a painting that feels right. Though I don't think I'll ever capture all the greens.

flowers in the country house

Country lane wildflowers:

daisy, forget-me-not, crown vetch, queen anne's lace and birdsfoot trefoil.

Forget-me-nots--tiny perfect blue with yellow center.

(like starry nights and  Cinderella)

Birdsfoot trefoil, warm yellow, delicate and charming.

 I had to look it up-- 

I thought it was in the pea family, and it is. 

What I didn't know is that it is high quality grazing feed for livestock.

Pretty and useful.

Is the cat grazing?

Yes, I love the new country kitchen.

Ferns in a mustard color jug started in the dining area.

Then moved to my bedside table.

Ferns are a non-flowering plant,

but Jane is open-minded and

I don't think she'll kick me out of Flowers in the House.

Go see for yourself.

Jen

be cool

 red and green, hot and cool

Brimfield

paint rag

shade

painting

sons

 I've added ice cream to the stay cool repertoire: 

Orange Italian ice (bonus points: it last a long time)

Lemon ice cream (bonus points: local creamery and vitamin c)

Vanilla ice cream with peanut butter mixed in (bonus points: calcium and protein)

All those bonus points negate calories and sugar, right? 

I mean they're practically healthy.

Also, a big bowl of fruit salad every day:
watermelon, peaches, raspberries, strawberries, blueberries.

Hope you find ways to stay cool this weekend.

Jen