Deep in the Black Dirt

By Carrie Jacobson
It was great to paint with old friends and new on Sunday, with the plein-air group from the Wallkill River School. We painted at Scheuermann Farms in Warwick, a gorgeous place that, like all the Pine Island farms, was hit tremendously hard by Tropical Storm Irene.

Usually flush with pumpkins, Scheuermann Farms has had to bring them in from Canada. Few onions survived the flood; fewer potatoes made it through. But the pumpkins are beautiful, the farm has a fantastic collection of fascinatingly shaped gourds, and it is a beautiful place.

I got to the area early and started a large painting before moving down to the farm to do my demonstration. That big painting, 18×36, I did on a bluff overlooking one of the farms up the road; I am hoping to finish it here this week.

The Black Dirt region is one of the most beautiful around, in my mind. I love painting skies, and here you have fields, and lines, and greenery and some of the biggest skies you’ll see.

Don’t forget about the Paradise City Arts Festival this weekend in Northampton, Mass. I will be in the Morgan Barn II, Booth 407.

P.S. Those black dots on the painting are bugs. They can be removed when the paint is dry. They’re not birds.

Our Old House

By Carrie Jacobson

This peaceful-looking little stream ran through a culvert below our driveway at our house in Cuddebackville.  The driveway dipped from the level of the house, down to cross the stream and culvert, and then up again to meet the street.

Behind our house, the Neversink River ran, its water tea-colored and clean. Birds flew up and down it regularly, and ducks swam on its surface. Great blue herons fished nearly daily, and from time to time, you could see and hear eagles.

And then there were the floods. The river would rise quickly, pushing its way up toward our house. And at a certain point, the river would split and come around in front, turning this usually quiet creek into a raging torrent that would tear up our driveway, breaking concrete into chunks, throwing boulders downstream and, potentially, trapping us in our home.

Most of the time, this was a beautiful, lovely place to live. In the floods, it was a terrifying, horrible, frightening spot.

I’ve gotten over my fear of heavy rain, and now, I can think of our house in New York with pleasure, remembering how beautiful it was, how much fun it was to listen to the river, and see its wildlife, and live along its banks.

Carrie@zestoforange.com

Charlestown Breachway

By Carrie Jacobson

I’ve embarked on a project that’s taken hold of me, though I can’t quite explain why. It’s a project to make 100 10-inch by 10-inch paintings, each priced at $100.

I have done a lot of dawdling around in my head, trying to set some interesting limits on the project (Should I use only three colors? Should I make 100 paintings of dogs? Should I paint the same field on 100 different days?) and again, I can’t really determine the source of my interest/fascination.

I think it’s enough to say that it’s there, and then set out and see where it takes me.

There are parts of life that are just like this, aren’t there? Why are we drawn to certain people, to certain ideas, to certain projects? Who knows! It could be God, it could be synchronicity, it could be time and place and sheer circumstance.

And it could be that our very focus is what changes and sharpens the idea. Or perhaps these special ideas really do force themselves into our consciousness in very special ways.

Whatever, I am on a new path, on a new challenge, and I am excited. That, in itself, is worth worlds.

Interested in this painting? Please contact me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

Inlet, Old Lyme

By Carrie Jacobson

I’ve been itching to get to this spot, a place I love to paint, and I finally made it out there yesterday, and did it feel great!

I’ve often painted this place before, and have usually used a panoramic-type of canvas in a one by three ratio – 8×24, 10×30, etc. This time I tried including more sky, and it gives a totally different feel to the scene.

I painted fast, I tried to paint with sure strokes, I tried to make the canvas feel as open and sun-soaked and brilliant as the day. It was what my soul needed.

I have encountered an absolutely great idea, and am about to embark on it, and would love input from you all. I saw a story about a guy who is planning on painting 100 10-inch by 10-inch paintings, and selling them each for $100 – and the notion just captivated me.

I can’t completely explain my fascination with this idea, but the minute I heard about it, I knew I had to do it.

I spoke with a friend who runs a gallery nearby about the idea, and he pushed me to take it a step further. Maybe do 100 paintings as linear pieces, a road, a beach, a journey. Maybe get 100 dog photographs and use a mosaic program to arrange them so that when they are all together, they make an image of a big dog – or a cat. Maybe use one large palette knife only, on all the pieces, or limit myself to one or two colors.

At any rate, I have a lot of ideas going around in my head – and I’d love to hear from any of you, if you all have ideas, about subjects or approaches or limits – or any other part of it. I think this is such a fun project!

Sunflowers

By Carrie Jacobson

Peter filled the feeder for the hummingbirds last night, and they are flashing and happy and drinking up this morning. My guess is that it’s the last time he will fill their feeder this year.

The past two days have been finally, blessedly cool enough that we – finally, blessedly – shut off the window air conditioners and opened the windows wide and let the warm days and cool nights breathe into our little house.

A hurricane is blowing up along the coast, sunset is coming more quickly each day, and grass and gardens all seem dry and brittle and spent.

I’ve always loved fall. I loved school, and fall meant school, and books, and classes and learning, and I loved all of that. It meant new clothes, and nights where I could wear shorts and sweaters, and it meant the trees coming alive with color – and I loved all of that.

I luxuriated in this summer’s golden twilights and slow, lengthy dawns. I soaked up the sun and the glorious flowers and all the brilliance and shine of this summer’s steamy, sunny days. And much as I love fall, I’m sad to see these broad, open days pass.

A friend of mine died this week, a friend from high school. We reconnected last year, both of us sober for decades, and blessed to be. We rejoiced in this, and in renewing our friendship, which we’d done by computer.

She showed up at one of my shows this summer, a wisp of what she had been, thin and dry as the August grass. But her smile was beautiful and her joy genuine, and we talked and laughed and hugged, and said we’d get together soon.

We did not. And now, she’s gone.

Autumn comes too soon, stealing summer’s wealth, and death comes too soon, as well.

I must remember this.

Tall Trees

At the edge of the field

By Carrie Jacobson
I try to remind myself not to go too fast, not to take the first idea, the first word, the first scene. I try to remind myself to have a little trust, and look a little farther.

I painted the house at the edge of the field first, and I very much like it. I enjoyed painting it, seeing the flowers, smelling the sweet, hot air, and trying to capture all that sun-soaked summer glory.

I finished, and turned to my left, and saw the tall trees, and couldn’t go without painting them.

It’s hard not to take the first thing, isn’t it? You never know what the world will offer up next. With faith, and a little optimism, I am learning. If I can’t keep myself from reaching out, I can at least keep a little energy so that when that second chance comes along, there’s enough of me left to take it.

Passing Fancy

By Carrie Jacobson
Here in Connecticut, I live near a place called Buttonwood Farm. Some would argue that its claim to fame is its delicious homemade ice cream… I would argue that its sunflower fields and related charitable project is where its real glory is.

Every year in July, Buttonwood Farm grows acres and acres of sunflowers, cuts them and sells them, giving the funds to the Make-A-Wish foundation. This year, the farm raised more than $100,000.

The sunflower bouquets are a draw, and the ice cream is a draw, but the fields of sunflowers themselves are the real draw for me.

It is a fantastic sight to see, yellow and yellow and yellow, the sun come to earth on tall stalks, brightening even the grayest of days.

Painting sunflowers is about as fun as it gets for me, and so I’ve gone back day after day to paint. The first day, someone bought my painting before I had finished it. The painting I made the second day sold before it was dry. So far, I have the third and fourth-day paintings, and they are headed for the Mystic Outdoor Art Festival this weekend, in downtown Mystic, CT.

By the time I made this painting, late last week, the hot weather had done its work, withering leaves and forcing the flowers’ heavy heads to droop, their crown of petals to curl.

I think the sunflowers are gorgeous, even bowing and passing as they are here.

“Passing Fancy” is 12 inches by 48 inches, oil on canvas. If you’re interested in finding out about price and delivery, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

Dawn, Essex

By Carrie Jacobson
Dawn comes later and later these days, and dusk earlier. I saw a red leaf in a tree surely stressed by drought, and summer’s heat, but still, it is a harbinger.

I painted sunflowers this week. One of the paintings sold before I’d finished it; another sold before it dried, and I never even took a photo! I will post one next week.

I finished this one this week, and it seems right to put it up on Zest. It feels like a day of dawns today, for some reason. The air this morning is fresh and cool, and I can smell autumn, just there, just beyond the horizon.

The Mystic Outdoor Art Festival is not this weekend, but next. If you’re in Connecticut, or feel like coming, stop in and say hello! I will be at the corner of Willow and Main, and I will have new paintings – and sunflowers!

This painting is 24 x 24, oil on canvas. If you’re interested in finding out more about it, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

One of the funnest parts of my job as a Patch editor is working with the shelter in Montville, CT, the town I cover (check out the site I run, the Montville Patch!)

Happily, there are often no animals there to be adopted. But when there are, the animal control officer calls, and I take photos, or sometimes videos, and put them on the site, and who knows, maybe they help. I think they do.

Eager, a three-legged kitten, just got adopted, and I hope Patch had something to do with it. Want to see a video of Eager? Click here. Want to see a video of some pretty funny kittens? Click here. By the way, they still need homes, so if you’re in the market, and feel like traveling to Connecticut, I can hook you up.

A couple of years ago, with an Internet friend, I started the Art for Shelter Animals Project. In it, artists make portraits of animals in their local shelters or with rescue groups, then give the art to the shelter or rescue group. They can do whatever they want with it – sell it, auction it, put the art for calendars or coffee mugs, or decorate their offices with it.

Artists from around the world have participated – everyone from professional, well-known artists to classes of elementary school students, to people making their first paintings.

For an artist, the project is liberating. No one is ever going to be anything but totally and positively delighted with the painting. So you want to try making a purple cat? Cool! The shelter will love it. A pink dog? Great! The shelter will love it!

Check out the blog, and if you’d like to participate, it’s easy. Go to Petfinder, or your local shelter site, get a photo, make a portrait, send me a jpg, and give the painting away. I’ll put the image on the blog, write a little about you, a little about the animal if I can, and a little about the shelter.

I have some posts coming of on the blog animals up for adoption in Montville. One is of one of the kittens and another shows a golden lab with some issues. I made this painting of one of the dogs on the shelter’s Facebook page.

Dawn on the Marsh, Essex, MA

By Carrie Jacobson

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”

So said Albert Schweitzer, and so say I.

I am still mourning my dear Kaja, but I had a show to do last weekend, and grief or not, I was committed. My heart was not in it, but I loaded the van, and I drove to Wickford, RI, and in the blazing heat and humidity, set up the tent, set up the display, and, on Saturday, waited for the show to open.

The sun beat down, the humidity closed in, and the people came. They came, and they talked, and they admired and they shared their stories with me. Shared their lives with me. Told me about the dogs they had loved, about losing their own parents, about worrying about their children, and seeking inspiration in lives that seemed to be going flat.

They shared their hearts with me, these strangers, and they brought me back again. They lighted that inner flame again.

Thank you, everyone who wrote, for your kind words and condolences. They helped enormously, as well.

If you would like to find out more about this painting, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com