Posts Tagged ‘palette-knife painting’

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 09/27/13

Thursday, September 26th, 2013
Sorghum Oil on canvas, 30x30

Sorghum
Oil on canvas, 30×30

By Carrie Jacobson

The trees are starting to change color, even on the Eastern Shore. It’s not much, a tinge of orange here, a patch of yellow there. It’s slight, but it is undeniable, and in its way, exciting.

Farmers have cut the corn fields. Birds are flocking up. The squirrels, which are few and far between here in Virginia, are making a racket. And if there are still hummingbirds around, I haven’t seen them in a day or so.

A friend brought a cabbage over the other day, and it was huge and fresh and sweet. On the road to the mainland recently, I saw men picking pumpkins and squash.

I love the falling chill of the nights, and snuggling close, and pulling the blankets tight around my shoulders. I love putting on long pants for the first time, and finding my sweatshirt, and knowing that soon, I’ll be wearing my denim jacket and my scarf and my soft, warm boots.

I’ve gotten soft here in the south. A temperature of 70 sends me looking for an extra shirt these days. And while I am glad about fall, I am far more glad that winters here bring little or no snow.

And soft as I am, I am not yet as soft as whatever neighbor has the woodstove burning, even as I sit here in my open-air garage studio, loving the feel of the autumn wind.

***

I’LL BE PAINTING up your way, entering a piece in a wet-paint auction, and showing my new work at an outdoor festival, and it’s all happening this coming week!

The Olana Plein Arts Festival takes place Thursday through Saturday, Oct. 3-5, at the historic home of Frederic Church, in Hudson, NY. I’m one of 30 artists from across the country, chosen to participate in the event. I’ll be painting outdoors on Thursday and on Friday morning, and entering a wet plein-air piece into the wet-paint auction on Saturday.

On Friday afternoon, I head to Pound Ridge near Westchester for the Pound Ridge Fine Arts Festival, which takes place Saturday and Sunday.

If you’re around, please consider coming to one or the other, or both! And please say hello when you do.

 

 

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 09/13/13

Tuesday, September 10th, 2013
Where He Loves to Fish Oil on canvas, 20x60

Where He Loves to Fish
Oil on canvas, 20×60

By Carrie Jacobson

A couple from Tennessee was visiting our next door neighbor, Miss Dulcie, when I got home one evening from a recent and exhausting visit to Charlotte, NC. I spent most of the next day sleeping, but roused myself in the afternoon to carry the ancient Pekingese outside. I’d been out there for, oh, 10 seconds when one of Miss Dulcie’s visitors showed up at the fence.

“Hi!” he said. “I hear you’re an artist! That’s so wonderful!”  It became clear to me, even in my exhausted dim dumbness that he wanted to see my paintings and my studio, so of course, I showed him, and his wife, and Miss Dulcie, too.

Turns out that, decades back, he had turned down a full scholarship to Notre Dame to go to art school. Then he was drafted, came home, married, took a job, and pretty much forgot about art.

But way back then, he had painted with a palette knife, as I do, and he was tremendously excited to see my paintings. He swore that when he got home, he was going to start to paint again.

If you get anything from my story (I started making art seven years ago, at the age of 50), get this: You are never too old to make art. You are never too old to START making art – or writing poetry, or making quilts, or throwing pots, or creating mobiles, or making movies – or whatever it is that your heart’s been telling you to do.

Take a class, read a book, watch a video – or just get some materials and give it a try. Your life will be richer, and you will be happier. That’s a promise.

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 8/27/2013

Tuesday, August 27th, 2013
Thursday afternoon Oil on canvas, 18x36

Thursday afternoon
Oil on canvas, 18×36

By Carrie Jacobson

Painting began for me with a random thought that I had the courage – or luck – to listen to, and follow.

That began a change in my life, and over these years, little by little, I’ve learned to listen and to trust. When a door seems to open for me, I take my courage in hand and walk through it. Maybe I end up in a small room that I leave quickly. Maybe I end up in a long, interesting corridor, with lots of corners and other doors. The important thing for me is to have the nerve to step through and see what’s there.

Thus, this painting, which seems to me to be about freedom, and love, and the sky and, well, paint itself.

 ***

I KNEW I WAS running out of white paint, so early in the week, I ordered a bunch. I go through a lot, a lot, a lot of white paint. The UPS guy showed up on Friday, and I was thrilled. He was there just in time.

“Yay!” I said. “I’m down to my last tube of white!”

“Hmm,” he said. “I don’t think there’s any paint in this shipment.”

And sure enough, there wasn’t. Canvases, yes, but no paint.

I can fake it when I’m out of other colors… but not when I’m out of white. And there are a lot of situations like that. We can seem to be OK, making do, or even shining people on – but when you’re out of white paint, when you’re out of whatever it is at the very core of what you do, or who you are, you’re just stuck.

Peter and I went to the Big City of Salisbury, MD, on Saturday, and I bought a couple tubes of white paint – so I can go on. If only it were so easy in other parts of life.

 

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 08/22/13

Thursday, August 22nd, 2013
Joy for Weary Hours Oil on canvas, 12x24 Please contact me for price and delivery/shipping information!

Joy for Weary Hours
Oil on canvas, 12×24
Please contact me for price and delivery/shipping information!

By Carrie Jacobson

Though we didn’t have a garden this year – a first in recent memory – the joys of the summer garden haven’t passed me by.

I’ve savored strawberries still warm from the sun, and sweet, thin-skinned cucumbers from my friend Pat’s garden.

I’ve served up squash and asparagus from Dulcie’s garden, so fresh you could nearly taste the breeze in them.

I’ve breathed the rich spice of roses, the heavy weight of gardenias, the soft powdery scent of camellias. I’ve smiled at the swaths of black-eyed susans that seem to be everywhere this year, and marveled at the showy frills of irises and lilies.

I’ve missed having my own gardens. But there’s always next year.

The title of this painting – my own little substitute garden – is the final stanza of a verrryyy long poem,  “The Poor Man’s Garden,”  by Mary Howitt:

Yes, in the poor man’s garden grow
  Far more than herbs and flowers—
Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind,
  And joy for weary hours.

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 08/09/13

Thursday, August 8th, 2013
Chance Oil on canvas, 12x12

Chance
Oil on canvas, 12×12

By Carrie Jacobson

I donate art to charitable causes on a regular basis, and at the Paradise City show in Northampton, Mass in the spring, the winners of a pet portrait were the mothers of a young woman whose beloved dog Chance had died earlier that day.

Their story made me cry, and through the photos they sent me, I could tell what a great dog Chance had been.

I made the painting, and we agreed to meet at a show in Old Saybrook, Conn. in late July.

The day came, and one of the mothers stopped by my booth early to make sure we were on track. I put the painting up right over my little desk, and below it, put “To Carly, Love, Chance,” on a postcard.

Soon enough, they all showed up. The daughter walked by my tent and turned to look. She saw the painting and stopped in her tracks.

“Oh my God,” she said, “That looks like Chance.”

Her hand went up over her mouth when she realized that indeed, it was Chance. She started crying, the mothers started crying, her grandmother started crying, I started crying – and then we all were laughing, hugging, crying, and remembering the dear dog who had meant so much to Carly.

To see the series of photos showing all of this, click here to get to my own blog, The Accidental Artist. 

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 8/1/2013

Thursday, August 1st, 2013
130731B hay bales 10x10

Hay Bales

By Carrie Jacobson

When we left the mid-Hudson Valley six years ago, it was not a happy departure. My mother had died, my boss Mike Levine had died, my job at the Times Herald-Record had been eliminated, and we lived in a house where flooding endangered our lives.

I hadn’t realized, until today, that my memories and thoughts of the mid-Hudson were tinged and darkened by these experiences.

On the drive from Saugerties to Middletown, I found myself awed, at nearly every curve, by the incredible beauty and glory of the area. This must be the greenest time of the year, and the cool morning and soft light highlighted the depth and variety of the colors.

The road wound beside clear streams, past fields thick with corn, by farms with beautiful buildings showing the care of families over decades, over centuries. And behind it all, the mountains rose, tall and blue and strong.

I’d forgotten what a place the mid-Hudson Valley is, what beauty it holds, what history it whispers, what promises it makes. Today, I remembered it all.

 

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 07/11/13

Thursday, July 11th, 2013
Safe at Anchor Oil on canvas, 12x48

Safe at Anchor
Oil on canvas, 12×48

By Carrie Jacobson

The storms move in, and with them comes the promise of relief, a cooling off, a waning of humidity.
In these thick days, the slightest effort leaves me slick and stained with sweat. I train myself to consider it cleansing, a gift, a way to chase the toxins out. Native Americans use sweat lodges. Norsemen use saunas. This year, all of us on the East Coast simply use the summer.
Even painting raises perspiration. And it is OK. What I don’t like are the bugs, the ticks, the wasps, the huge green flies that take chunks out of me.
So I use the bug spray, and I use the sun screen, and I use deodorant, and I drink water All The Time, and I remember to be grateful.
This summer, I am outdoors. This summer, July’s heat has crept into my skin and into my bones. This summer, the long arcs of evening aren’t wasted on me. I am out in them, and savoring them, and sweating in them.

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 6/19/2013

Wednesday, June 19th, 2013
Jilly!  Oil on canvas, 12x12, commission

Jilly!
Oil on canvas, 12×12, commission

By Carrie Jacobson

The hot afternoon had rolled into dusk, humidity kicking up in its wake. To the east, over the ocean, the solid gray sky had cracked in places, showing blue. But in the field beyond our yard, a line of heavy, tropical rain made its way toward us.
Peter called me, and we stood in the doorway and watched it head across the field. It approached as a grayish line, looking almost like a living thing – a herd of deer, a flock of geese. The torrents slammed and bounced off the ground, and we could hear it coming, and then in an instant, the rain was pounding on the doorstep, soaking us, soaking everything, and passing then just as fast.
Summer starts on Friday, but it felt to me that it rolled in with this downpour, sudden, tropical, refreshing.
***
ON TUESDAY, I had a fantastic opportunity to do a podcast with Connie Mettler, on Art Fair Insiders, a site that would interest any artist – or fair-goer. Connie had read about the “Tubac and Back” trip, and thought it was an interesting idea.
She invited me and a wonderful artist named Scott Coleman to talk about our other-than-art-show projects. Among Scott’s many ideas and achievements, he did a project that involved painting a cupcake a day (well, six a week) for a year.  They are just fantastic!
You can hear the podcast by clicking here. Here’s the actual link, too: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/artfairs/2013/06/18/art-fair-alternatives–part-i-two-painters

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 05/23/13

Thursday, May 23rd, 2013
Oklahoma Cowscape, 36x60

Oklahoma Cowscape, 36×60

By Carrie Jacobson
I had a few looong days driving back from Tubac (check out the Tubac and Back blog!). One of them started in New Mexico and ended in Shawnee, OK. I’d been driving for 14 hours, but I got off the road mostly because the sky was so scary-looking:
Above and below, the sky over Shawnee, OK

Shawnee was a one- and two-story town, with some interesting-looking shops and restaurants, some beautiful landscapes, and some of the friendliest people I met on the trip. Whenever I end up somewhere, I always think about what it would be like to live there, and I thought Shawnee would be a pretty good spot.

Except for the tornadoes.

I remember how horrible it felt when, while we were living in Cuddebackville on the bank of the Neversink River, a flood destroyed a lifetime’s worth of memories and a basement’s worth of possessions. It mangled our land and left a crater in our driveway, making it impassable.

I remember the terror, then the utter, bone-deep dismay, the terrible sense of loss, and, finally, the overwhelming joy that Peter and all the animals and I made it through alive.

My heart goes out to those families in Oklahoma. I have just the barest idea of what they are feeling, but even from my relatively tiny experience, I can tell you it’s awful.

Here are some ways you can help:

 

Carrie’s Painting of the Week – 03/20/13

Wednesday, March 20th, 2013

The suburbs of Arivaca, Arizona

By Carrie Jacobson

After about a week of driving and exploring, making my way through North and South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas and New Mexico, I have made it to Tubac, Arizona, where my dad and his wife live.

It has been a fabulous trip, full of discovery and adventure. It’s been something to drive through towns like Pascagoula and Pass Christian, towns whose names I’ve heard forever, but have never seen. Been something to see Spanish moss, the Gulf of Mexico, the George Ohr Museum, and the damage that Hurricane Katrina wrought.

I’ve painted, and driven, and explored. I visited New Iberia, where my favorite fictional character – Dave Robicheaux – lived and hung out. I saw longhorns, donkeys, goats and llamas. I crossed the eternity that is Texas, and was blown around so hard by wind in New Mexico that I had to stop driving… but I got here safe and sound.

Dad is 84, and he’s been painting for maybe 10 years, maybe more. For most of that time, he’s done watercolors, but recently has moved into acrylics.

Until Tuesday, he’d never painted in plein air! So I was thrilled – thrilled! – when he agreed to go out painting with me.

We had a great time bouncing along a terrible road to a teeny town called Arivaca. Dad says it was settled in the 1960s and 1970s by people whose main pursuits were hiding from the law and selling drugs, maybe not in that order.

These days, it’s an eclectic, dusty little town, broken down in places, and kept up in places.

While we didn’t see any drug activity, it did seem that everyone in town smoked cigarettes. Haven’t seen that in a while.

A furniture designer and artist named Peter Saloom (check out his furniture by cicking here) rode by on a bike and stopped to see what we were doing. An awful lot of folks drove by and then sort of turned around and drove by again… I am sure they were wondering just what the HECK we were painting…

Here’s my dad:

Here's my dad and his painting, mid-way.