Blog
Manana Island
July 2015
What a difference a day makes in the flavor of a place. Last week on Monhegan Island most of the week was clear, crisp, and warm...Just the kind of days that one feels exhilarated. I felt as if I was infused with joy from all directions.
Monhegan Summer Morning
July 2015
Delight! Sun and Air!
July 2015
Tuesday the morning fog was slow to give way to sun and warm air. The harbor was still; fog lifted slowly. By afternoon there was not even a hint of fog. In my paintings on Tuesday, I played with changing colors and light and luxuriated in being at that place at that time!
Fish Beach, Monhegan Island
July 2015
On Wednesday the day dawned gray and misty to just plain wet, not promising for painting, but certainly a day in which color takes on a fresh dimension. Given Wednesday's weather, my journey took me to Fish Beach to paint. Standing under a balcony roof for protection from rain, I played with the shapes of boats and buildings which bound the beach. So much piled in to such a small space. Even as I worked, folks pulled boats out of the pile, emptied them of accumulated water, and headed into the harbor to row.
Washerwoman Low Tide
July 2015
By Thursday I was ready to venture out onto the rocks around Christmas Cove. The tide was low and going out when I arrived, more rock than water at Washerwoman (the name of a rock formation off Christmas Cove, not a vocation!). Water movement and the vibrant green rock weed uncovered at low tide offered a nice counterpoint to the bold rocks of the formation.
Summer Cottage
July 2015
Finally my week came together with the celebration of a small cottage in a quiet cove on Monhegan.
Throughout the week, short snatches from a song kept popping into my head. I wrote the e-mail below to a friend:
'When joy takes over my life, she usually brings a song with her. Today I was overwhelmed by the joy of being on Monhegan in the sun and wind and sky and water. Painting was spectactular... the joy I felt kept bringing a song. I write now because only snatches of words come thru... 'Isn't death a way of living, and doesn't death give way to birth. So tears of laughter and of crying speak our connection to the earth and all we love..." If you have an electronic version of the song could you email it to me. It seems to be bubbling up and needs some help taking form.... '
She graciously sent it along. I share the words from the song 'By Our Lives' by Gorgina Chambers below. They speak so well of the experience of painting in this centering place:
'As morning gathers sparks of light, and forests sing in all their splendour, a people's fear cries through the night, not knowing whether we will ever dream again. By waters old before our coming, we shall be taught to feel our way; into the heart of deepest sorrow, transforming anger as we lay our weapons down.
And so we come with empty hands to learn the ways of ancient listening; to lie upon the broken land not knowing whether we will ever rise again. For isn't life a way of dying, and doesn't death give way to birth. So tears of laughter and of crying speak our connection to the earth and all we love.
What are the sounds that we should make, that tell the truth of so much longing; that gather strength with each heart ache, not knowing whether we will ever speak again. So as the river and the ocean carry the sacred breath of life, let us remember in our dreaming, that we are holding all, as we are being held.
And so we come with open hands to learn the ways of ancient dreaming. With hearts of fire to heal the land, forever knowing by our lives , we rise again; we rise again; we rise again. Forever knowing by our lives, we rise again.
Wishing you hearts of fire and the knowledge that, 'by our lives' we do rise again.
