View from my bedroom window

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. Could you be my neighbor?

I don’t remember when I started this doodle. Whatever you’d like to call it. Anyway, perhaps winter 2016.

First I experimented with glazing and it was interesting. I didn’t quite like it, so I carefully wipe it off. Then I decided to extend the roof forward in the foreground to give a better sense that I am viewing from my second floor bedroom window. Then I decided to dump a lot of snow on the roof of my neighbor’s house. Sure, why not.

Home. Oil on panel. 8 by 10 inches. 

When facing the twin houses from the front on Birch Street, the right of the twin house is still for rent. (Would you like to be my neighbor?) No one is living in there, so not much heat escaping the roof. That’s why the snow is still pilled up there. But why do I need to explain this? Every painting has some embellishments to tell a story or to convey a sense of place. In this painting, that sense of place is, home.

I said to another artist friend that I choked up a bit when I titled it, Home — It reminded me of the months when we came close to becoming homeless when the global economy collapsed. We had to choose between a roof over our heads or the exorbitant health insurance premiums. The floors dropped from underneath us. It was a very long roller coaster ride. Fortunately we have families and friends who would not allow this to happen to us. They were our lifeline. With a little bit of their help we gradually made it through and eventually found a place in Kennett Square to call home.

Japanese beetles, Ticks, Mosquitos. Oh my.

I seldom venture out more than 500 feet from my studio, and my first painting for today was no exception. I did the first painting in an open field near Red Clay Creek. Kennett Square’s firehouse is only a few hundred feet from where I setup to paint. I came close to giving up this spot because Japanese beetles were relentlessly dive bombing me. They seemed to enjoy crashing into my straw hat. Bop, bop, bop! It was nearly maddening, but eventually I managed to ignore them when I felt that I was in no danger of being bitten by them. Yet my imagination still ran amok now and then because I feared one would take liberty and crawl into my ear to lay her eggs.

In Between Trees

Oil on cotton over panel, 6 by 8 inches, 2015.

I finished my first painting, and I decided to go a bit farther out towards Anson B. Nixon Park. First, a break at one of my favourite places, Philter Coffee. I needed sustenance and rehydration before I wander into the park. This was the first time I have ventured out this far since moving to Kennett Square in 2014, and I was a bit nervous when I reached the edge of the park. Ticks, I thought. I imagined them hiding and waiting to pounce on me when I walk down that path, but only 30 feet into the park I saw the light streaming through the canopy and draping across the trail. Ooo, so pretty. I committed the scenery to memory and I worked quickly before it was gone. Alas, as it turned out, ticks were the least of my problems because mosquitoes were feasting on me while I was painting. I quickened pace and escaped. Next time, I shall be drenched in repellent.

The Path

Oil on cotton over panel, 8 by 6 inches, 2015.