August 7, 2015

What I did On My Summer Vacation

Chez Cheryl Artspace is back to normal, a quiet interlude of pastoral bliss, monarch's flutter  past the milkweed and  wild carrot, tall stalks of spent ditch lilies and grasses gone to seed, and wind blows through the pine and maple.  I  often see a family of turkey vultures preening on the ridge of the barn roof, Coopers Hawks in the meadow, indigo buntings in the apple trees and across the valley, a deer   emerges from a cool thicket to cross over a stone fence, venturing into the field of newly cut clover.  On the walls which a month ago featured portraits in a myriad of media and presentation, I now have my growing accumulation of paintings I have attempted over the past few years, a series of abstract impressions of winter, a few still life studies, and en plein air or the valley and environs I have just described above. 

We were pretty dry, and I prayed it would rain, refilling my rain barrel and the water bins at the back door, and last Sunday we got that rain, plus 60 mph winds which  wreaked havoc on many, with downed trees, no power for at least 12 hours, and  marble sized hail throughout the county.  The garden is nearly feral again, but yielding spaghetti squash, cucumber and zucchini, tomatoes of  all sizes, potatoes, broccoli, eggplant and basil and peppers. Earlier there was  a handful of radishes, and spinach, and sweet raspberries, just enough to pick and eat while standing in the garden.

All of this takes me away,  my focus in life seems to be less of the world out there, and more about the internalizing of this pastoral  setting. Painting as meditation, painting as movement, the path of a butterfly, the shadow of the turkey vulture, the sound of the  pine trees singing in the wind. Painting to make the palpable yet invisible  patterns more visible.

This is where I live. I live in a place where people stop to move a snapping turtle off the busy county highway, I live where when a storm hits and knocks out power, puts trees on car tops and roof lines, the grocery stores cook up burgers and  have water ready for people who are hungry. I live where  I know the guy in the emergency responder truck is also the same guy who tends bar, he is a neighbor and he is always on call.  I live where you can't go to the grocery store, library or post office without running into at least 2-3 artists or poets or musicians. And the post master brings garden surplus in to the lobby for the FREE box, if anyone needs a zucchini, or a lily bulb.