Himalayan

By Carrie Jacobson

Easter Sunday and I am renewed, revived, reawakened.

Saturday brought a church service, a baptism in the midst of an Easter celebration. For me, unaccustomed, the event shines, stands alone in a raft of Sundays, a raft of churchless Easters.

The day has never passed without my recognizing it. Never passed without my sense of rebirth, or a quickening of the breath of faith. But this Easter dawned on the heels of celebration, oflight shining deep into the darkness, of voices raised together in joyous song.

I made this painting earlier in the day, in the sunshine on the sidewalk outside of Center Framing & Art in West Hartford, Conn. The gallery represents me, and this month, the owner has given me the front window! If you’re interested in the painting, shoot me an email.

From left, in front of the gallery window stocked full of my stuff, is my niece Larkin, brother Rand, me, and friends Lizzie and Al.

Tiger Cat

By Carrie Jacobson

Anyone who lives with cats knows that we don’t own them. And while it might be tempting to say that they own us, I for one believe that no cat would deign to own a human. We’re big and loud and messy and don’t spend half the time we should doing what they want. So they’re OK with having us as their loyal subjects or, at the very least, employees. But own us? No way.

Every once in a while, you get a cat who likes to cuddle, and is willing to do it when you want. But really, that’s a very doglike thing to do. Most cats want us to behave like big, warm beds. We should sit quietly and adjust ourselves until they are comfortable, and then hold stock still.

When we’re not acting as warm pieces of furniture, we should spend our time using our handy opposable thumbs to open cans of food, clean their litter boxes and supply them with fresh water. Also, we should grow catnip. Whole fields of it in the summer, and pots of it all over the house in the winter.

Three cats live with my husband, myself and our dogs. The cats tolerate us, but are repelled by the dogs. You can see the disdain on their faces. One of them, Puffy, takes it out on any dog she can get, swatting pretty randomly at the big, smelly creatures whenever possible.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about cats, as I am painting a dozen cat portraits for a project for Center Framing & Art, the gallery in West Hartford, Conn., that represents me. This painting is one of the 12. It makes me think of George Carlin’s line that when a cat looks at you, it’s like he’s testing a new set of eyes.

Interested in this painting? Contact Lori at Center Framing & Art, 860-233-7804 for price and delivery options.

Carrie@zestoforange.com

I Know Something About Love

By Carrie Jacobson

This week, I painted in May-warm afternoons, and I turned my face to the sun and my heart to springtime, and I let my soul warm until winter’s wrath was something barely there and unremarked.

I’ve made a vow this spring to smile more, to accept more, to give and forgive and in relationships, to be willing to settle for “good enough.”

As I painted these pine trees and their reflections on a warm Friday afternoon, I felt alive – and lucky to be alive.

“I Know Something About Love” is oil on canvas, 10×30. Contact me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery information.

Range Rovers

By Carrie Jacobson

Fellow Zester Shawn Dell Joyce and I hosted the opening reception for “Celebrations” on Saturday at the Wallkill River School. It was raining torrentially, which kept some people home. But the reception was crowded and fun and happy in spite of the rain, and Shawn and I truly appreciated the folks who had the courage and will to come out  in spite of the weather.

During the show, we both gave demonstrations, continuing work on paintings we’d started before the reception. I was pretty nervous. I often paint in public, and I’ve given workshops, but both of those are far removed from painting – in my dress-up clothes – to a room packed full of people.

I paint with a palette knife these days, and as I was slathering on the paint, I could hear people behind me saying “That looks like fun.”

Well, it is! So I turned and offered the knife around, and lo and behold if people didn’t take me up on it. Well, that calmed my nerves and made the whole experience utterly delightful.

The show is up until the end of the month, at the gallery on Route 17K in Montgomery. Check the Wallkill River School website (to the right on this page) for hours and directions. I think you’ll like the show. Shawn’s pastel paintings are vivid and deliciously painted. They are exciting, with interesting angles and boldly graphical presentations.

I’m happy as can be with the paintings I’m showing this month. Many are large, and most are bright and lively and eye-catching. The one at the top of this entry is one of the ones in the show. It captures a small herd of cattle who crossed my path in Wyoming. They looked pretty formidable; I took a photo from inside the car, not daring to get out.

If you’re interested (it’s a big painting, 34 x 60) contact me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery options.

Sunset in Sonoita

By Carrie Jacobson

This one nearly slipped by me! I’ve been so wrapped up in working on “Celebrations,” my show with Shawn Dell Joyce at the Wallkill River School, that I nearly forgot to post to Zest. Yikes!

This painting, one of the ones you will see in the show, is of an area south of Tucson, Arizona, a place called Sonoita. A spine of mountains rises above the plains, which are rich with grass that glows and waves in the wind. It’s a lonely, lovely spot that picks up the colors of the air and the sun and the wide-open prairie.

Our show is on now at the gallery, 232 Ward St. (Route 17K), Montgomery. See the website (to the right) for more information. And come to the opening reception on Saturday, from 5-7 p.m.

Marching in Montgomery

By Carrie Jacobson

The Wallkill River School occupies the ground floor of the Patchett House, outside the downtown part of the lovely Village of Montgomery.

Originally a tavern, the Patchett House stands on the corner of Factory Street and Route 17K, part of the old Newburgh-Cochecton Turnpike. The Patchett family, which owned the woolen mill at the end of Factory Street, bought the house late in the 19th century, and lived there until the 1970s.

In 1980, the house was added to the National Historic Register. Later, the house fell into disrepair. The Devitt family, whose purchases and renovations are part of the fabric of the Village of Montgomery, bought the home late in the 20th century and brought it back to its glory.

It is in this home, with its 14-foot ceilings and hardwood floors, its 10-foot-high windows and spectacular staircase, where I will be showing my art, starting a week from today, with Shawn Dell Joyce.

Shawn has made a series of paintings to celebrate the Village of Montgomery’s bicentennial. And I have plans for a couple, myself.

One of them, I finished yesterday. This painting is from the old photograph on the cover of the Village of Montgomery Bicentennial calendar, which is on sale at the gallery and around the village, for $10. The painting shows the Firemen’s Parade, as it makes its way down Ward Street at the turn of the 19th century.

I started with the intention of using only sepia tones, but color overtook me – a little! Come to the show, which will be up through the end of March – or come to the reception, Saturday, March 13, from 5-7 p.m. You won’t be disappointed.

Contact carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for information on price and delivery options for “Marching in Montgomery.”

A Bend in the River

By Carrie Jacobson

I stood on one bank of the Wallkill River last week and marveled at the beauty. The river flowed strong and deep and dark. Ice grew along its edges, and trees poked through the ice. On the far bank, last year’s leaves lay brown and amber and warm in the afternoon sun. A frigid wind blew off the top of the water, searing the already chilly afternoon.

I took refuge behind a Dumpster and painted until I could paint no longer. It felt as if the cold had gotten through my clothes, my skin, my flab, and all the way down to my bones. I knew I would not be warm for days.

This painting will be part of the show fellow Zester Shawn Dell Joyce and I are having at the Wallkill River School in March. Come and see! The show opens on March 7; the artists’ reception is March 13, from 5-7 p.m.; the show will be up until the end of the month at the Wallkill River School Gallery, 232 Ward St. (Route 17K), in Montgomery.

“A Bend in the River” is oil on canvas, 12×48. Contact carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery information.

Snowstorm!

By Carrie Jacobson

I love to paint snow. It quiets my paintings. The white areas shift the focus, bringing out the color in the rest of the world, without intensifying it. On a gray, snowy day, the sky and the earth seem to match, lending a mood and a distance and a softness to the landscape. I love the way the snow sculpts the facets of the earth, covers the details, softens the edges.

Painting in a snowstorm is not so much fun, though. The snow gets in the paint, and makes it like sand. So in the snow, I paint fast. And in a cold snowstorm, even faster!

Come see my work and Shawn Dell Joyce’s work in person! “Celebrations” opens at the Wallkill River School Gallery with a reception on Saturday, March 13, from 5-7 p.m. The show will be up for the rest of the month. The gallery is at 232 Ward St. (Route 17K), in Montgomery. Check the website (to the right, on this page) for directions and details.

Good Sam II

By Carrie Jacobson

Late Thursday afternoon, I dropped by the Lighthouse Gallery, near our home here in Connecticut, to give a final look at “Places & Pets,” the show of my work and Carden Holland’s work, set to open Friday evening.

The show looked great – but there was an open place on the wall above the desk of curator Chris Rose.

On the wall was Good Sam I, a painting of one of our dogs. It is a big painting, 30×30, all in blues. It’s a painting  that I love. (You can see it at the end of this posting).

The hole beside it was just about the same size. Chris wanted to know if I had another painting, another big one. Well, I do, but not one that I want to sell. And already, there were three not-for-sale paintings in the show.

So Chris gave me a challenge. Days earlier, he and I had been talking about the power and delight of painting fast, and he turned to me and asked if I could make another painting.

I took him up on it.

All along, I’d envisioned the Sam paintings as a pair. I mean, everybody needs a pair of giant oil paintings of a Samoyed, right?

So, on Friday morning, after a nearly sleepless Thursday night, I went out to the studio painted Good Sam II.

The pieces look great together! They are just about the happiest paintings I’ve ever made. And they were a wonderful omen for the opening.

It was a festive show, a true celebration, filled with family and friends – and strangers! There were children, teens, a dog, friends from my childhood and from this new life.

 Carden Holland, the marvelous artist who was the “Places” part of the show, had not shown in years and years. Practically her whole family came to the opening, which made it even more special. We have many friends in common, and many of them came to support and celebrate us.

I’d like to say it was a high-selling opening, but it wasn’t; still, it was wonderful, and I had the chance, again and again, to watch as people saw and connected and engaged with my paintings. And that’s a huge, huge thrill! If you came to the opening, thank you. If you couldn’t make it, don’t worry. The show will be up until the end of the month.

Groton is on the Connecticut coast, near Mystic. It’s a wonderful day trip from the mid-Hudson. Generally, the gallery is not open on weekends, but Chris will be happy to open it; just give him a call at 860-445-7626, ext. 108. Commissions from all sales go to support the Lighthouse Voc-Ed Center, which offers educational and social opportunities for people with developmental disabilities.

For more information, see http://lighthousevocedcenter.com/TheGallery.html

For information on buying one or both of the Good Sam paintings, email carrieBjacobson@gmail.com

Good Sam I

The Hunter

By Carrie Jacobson

In the woods along the banks of the Neversink, in the Myers Grove area of Cuddebackville, moles and voles and mice and squirrels multiply. They are everywhere, digging in the leaf mold, feasting on acorns, drinking from the streams.

Killing them was Eunice’s sworn duty.

She would watch for hours, immobile and silent, and then she would pounce – and woe be to the vole who was slow.

This painting (24 inches by 48 inches) shows Eunice in the instant before she leaped. I know from watching her that she was seeing nothing, feeling nothing, focusing on nothing but the poor creature she was intending to murder.

For information on price and delivery options, contact Carrie at carriebjacobson@gmail.com