Ain't it Grand?

Swirlyland
charcoal
May 25, 2014

"Swirlyland" is a hillside "pinetum" with carefully pruned evergreen trees owned and maintained by the Hunnewell family of Wellesley, Massachusetts. It is located on a grassy slope above Lake Waban which includes the campus of Wellesley College. I occasionally walk there from home with my sketchbook. Sometimes I go into town for coffee or to a concert at the college. It's all very sophisticated in a New Englandy rustic kind of way. Emerson, Thoreau and Margaret Fuller would approve I'm sure.

Riverscapes

May 16
conté pencil

May 21
charcoal

May 22
colored pencil

May 22
colored pencil

May 23
hard charcoal pencil

The Daily News

The other night: an opossum seen in the yard

violets, also seen in the back yard

The small island is a thicket of weedy, junky vegetation and a challenge to draw.

And today: bright morning sun and three robins looking for breakfast.

Lake Waban at Sunset

The setting sun shines on the far shore of the lake
5-14-14
charcoal, watercolor

In the growing darkness, two mallards are settling in for the night
5-14-14
pencil, ink

Wet Duck

Mallard and drizzle
04-30-14
conté pencil

Happy May Day!

What could be happier than a duck in the rain?

Hello Spring!

Spring Cleaning

As the weather warms up, I get to the dam more. There's lots to see: flood waters, daffodils,  herons, ducks and grebes. Spring is here!

03-28-14
I'm standing on the far end of the Pleasant Street Bridge looking over to the island and the dam. This was done on a Friday; normally I draw from the bridge on the weekends when there is less traffic.

04-03-14
Early morning shadows across the swirling flooded river. The retaining wall is barely visible on the left side of my drawing

04-05-14
Stranded logs and high water

04-14-14
High water; the island is submerged

04-20-14
The old millstones are embedded in the asphalt. This view is downstream over the top of the dam.

04-20-14
View upstream. I ran out of my brown pencil and started working in charcoal on top of it.

04-25-14
Yesterday, just used a graphite #2 pencil. We're looking downstream over the dam and to the houses on the other side of the Pleasant St. Bridge.

A Tale of Two Steeples

Two steeples, two churches. One has a clock and a weather vane. The other is very tall and thrusts a golden cross into the sky. One is the home to perching pigeons. The steeple with the weather vane provides a resting place for starlings and robins. One church is dark, shut up and for sale. The other has been in existence in one form or another for over 300 years.

Sacred Heart, the for-sale church was caught up in legal settlements in the slow-motion tsunami of the Catholic clergy sex-abuse scandals. The doors were padlocked on Christmas Eve in 2004. Statues of Mary and Jesus were removed early one morning and the church was "de-sacralized" so it could be sold.

Sacred Heart Church steeple
04-20-14
charcoal

I often think about these steeples as I walk over to the river to sketch.  Since Sacred Heart has fallen into disrepair I always picture in my mind the church imploded from rot, the steeple crashed in on itself and daylight flooding the sanctuary where we can see a congregation of mice, sparrows and raccoons and a tall white pine growing before the dusty altar.

The Eliot Church's steeple had developed a list over the years and had to be straightened out. I wonder how they paid for such an enormous repair?  For years, as I approached the building from Union St. I would wonder just which element in my field of view was askew. Or maybe it was I who was off kilter.

The Eliot Church steeple
04-20-14
charcoal

I'm partial to the message of a steeple that is engaged with the local's need for accurate weather data and the clock. There's a firm foundation of faith in those observations. Sacred Heart church has the more emotional and compelling story though. It's a story of greed, anguish and a golden cross dangling in the sky… to what end? Sacred Heart is the drama queen pulling us all in some direction but it seems to be in search of a compass or a rudder. Eliot Church shaggily soldiers on with prayer flags, forsythia wreaths and a Prius parked to front, engaged but perhaps it has a more realistic entry point into the human story.

Rising Waters

The water is rising. The ice is melted. There have been substantial rains… and more is on the way. After this winter I have no sense of what the summer will be like. Whatever happens, I'll document the effects here at the river. Thank you for checking in.

 03/31/14 charcoal
This is an odd picture… This is a view over the top of the dam. A log is stranded at the lip and water cascades over it. The island is still visible on the right; the bridge can be seen at the  top of the drawing.

04/03/14
A few days later: the river has risen above the retaining walls. It's early morning and the trees on the submerged island cast shadows across the  black water and white foam as they hurtle downstream to the ocean.

04/04/14 conté pencil
The river level has risen a bit more. The grassy park is flooded and the water laps here the way it would at the shore. The water in the river however, makes a familiar rushing sound. I take the watery white noise for granted but there is a little something extra today. 

04/05/14 charcoal
The big logs stranded at the top of the dam might stay there all summer. I hope so. Some of them will sprout foliage and ducks will perch on them once the weather warms up. Stay tuned. I'll draw them too!

Looking for Spring

This is the winter with no end. But there are tantalizing glimpses here and there of warmer weather. I've seen flocks of robins for weeks. Last week I saw my first red-wing blackbirds and grackles. Great Blue Herons are fishing wherever they can find open water. Crocuses, tulips and day lilies are elbowing their way up into the sunshine. The sap is flowing!

It was sunny and Spring-like last Sunday so I gathered my sketchbook, put some pencils in my pocket and biked a few miles to Broadmoor Wildlife Sanctuary. I had "spring fever." It looked like Spring but it felt like Winter: I wish I'd brought gloves! By the end of the excursion my fingers were stiff and had to be pried off the bike's handlebars. I made two drawings (how to choose from a the myriad of motifs??). The first one (below) is of an old beech tree grove. I added a bit of color to it the following morning. 

Beech Grove, Broadmoor March 23, 2014
crayon, watercolor

The added watercolor on the right helps the forms emerge from the confusion of the drawing

Stream with beaver dam, Broadmoor 3/23/2014
charcoal, watercolor

original drawing on left. I added some watercolor washes the following day (on right) 

This drawing (above) was done where a stream flows out of a pond that a beaver dam have created. I love moving water! It's hard to draw however. I need a system I suppose. Paradoxically, my ineptness pleases me and forces me to observe and take note of what's in front of me and also what inside of me is resisting the active process of really Seeing. It's a problem I live with. Fortunately, a little touch of watercolor can help clarify the tangle of lines and smudges.

Up & Down

03-19-14
the view downriver

03-12-14
The view upriver

Getting Caught Up

It must have been a warm day on February 2nd because I stopped and drew the cows at the neighboring farm. One cow was focused on getting the last particle of food from a black rubber bucket that appeared to be stuck on its head. And now, over a month later we are experiencing another warm day: the birds are singing like mad and we set the clocks ahead tomorrow and ponder that Summer is not some abstract concept.

But this winter has been unremittingly cold and onerous. The last month more onerous than the month before. But like a pernicious patch of weeds that we rip up in a righteous fit, what will be left when Winter is gone? Will we get a delicate and soothing Spring or will we hurtle into a Summer of see-sawing extremes with new pernicious greenery, biting bugs and hungry slugs? And where, has timelessness gone to? How do we suspend the moments when we're so focused on trends? We don't live in fear of the weather. We live in fear of climate. The senses reel at their own confusion and powerlessness in the face of abstract and frightening speculation and prediction. We have lost our innocence but maybe a few art-filled moments of observation and wonder can sew a patch on our frayed selves.

I will try to love what I can of it and draw and draw and draw… till the cows come home.

studies of some cows. One is eating from a bucket.
02-02-14

Bitter cold morning, the trees are coated with rime, mist. I saw a Bufflehead duck
02-11-14

02-23-14
The sun is casting shadows across the swirling foam below the dam

02-23-14
View upstream; the river is encased in ice.

02-27-14
This drawing done from inside my car. I'm tired of winter!

03-02-14
Last Sunday morning: a view downstream from atop the Pleasant Street Bridge. 

03-03-14
Trembling reflections; drawn with a big blue child's crayon

03-07-14
Glowing hoarfrost and Icy skirts on the island's rocky shore

You can't put your hand in the same river (or season) twice.