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Awash Last Light High Tide on the Point WH Commission June 2014
Summer Morning For Lewis Waterfall Take A Seat


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Awash


The days are full on the coast, lots to do and see. Sometimes, one forgets that little boat down on the tidal marsh, waiting for a quick check of the crab traps, or a snag of a spotted bass.  It waits patiently through high and low tides, for that special moment when you wade through the high grass and take a seat, pushing into the tide's pull.  Who knows what you'll find?  Or what will find you!

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Last Light


At the end of the day, the last light hits the trees and grasses, one last glow before evening falls. It is a time of settling in and resting after a long day of work, or play.  

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High Tide on the Point


High tide fishing on the Point...barely room for the rods and chair.  Beach erosion has cut into the dunes behind, but left a nice little shelf of sand to enjoy. A brush with a hurricane last year created a quick flowing breach from the marsh to the ocean.  Not a safe place to swim, but a great place to fish, as the tidal exchange brings nutrients to and from the marsh.  Eventually it will fill in, as sand is swept down the coast, but for now, it provides a quiet place to put a line in the water, and to escape the crowded beach.

 

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For Lewis


Painted this work the day of the death of Lewis Grizzard, the Georgia writer for the Atlanta Journal/Constitution, and author of a yearly collection of essays with comical titles. I stood in line at Rich's department store many a time to get that yearly autographed copy. I grew to adulthood/motherhood reading Lewis' column, and he wrote about the South and how it was growing up here, and what was changing. He loved good barbecue and hated wearing socks.  He was a rascal and a black sheep, but we loved him anyway.  He loved University of Georgia, and it was said that some of his ashes are scattered at the 50 yard line, though we don't know for sure (wink).  I've visited his official grave in Moreland, GA, and walked through his small museum up the street. I wept when his heart gave out, just like the other Southerners who knew him, too.  He'd always had a bad ticker, and had dodged a few close calls with death, but I think this time, he knew his time was running out. When I found his last column in a drawer the other day, wherein he was asking for folks to pray (and they did), it prompted me to pull out this beautiful watercolor from those years ago...still vibrant, still beautiful. I had never really tried to sell it...so much emotion and memory in it, even now.  I sat at the work table in my studio, working on the painting, tears falling - there are probably some mixed in the watercolor.  He had lived his life to the fullest, as should we all.  Thank you, Lewis, wherever you are.  Throw a stick for that dog, Catfish, to chase, and I'll look for you when my time comes.  I wonder if they'll have barbecue.....

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Waterfall


Going through the old files, and found this piece....so many good things going on in it!!  It was a time of experimentation, a time of intense learning, and making art for the sake of creating.  I had just been to a week of instruction with a challenging instructor (bless him, I learned so much!) and I had all the time in the world to haunt the studio, trying this and that, and learning to trust myself as an artist.  

 

Jump forward eighteen years, and in many ways, I've come a long way.  As I have focused my marketing, and art creation to fit it, I had forgotten how much FUN I had just exploring.  Don't we all need to simply relax and remember why we wanted to be artists in the beginning?  Grateful for this happenstance -- seeing some work that makes me smile, remembering the drafty studio where I could sit at the window and just dream, sitting at a folding table in the middle of the room, artwork before me.  Tossing fishfood down to the koi in the pond below the window.  Wondering if I would ever find a way to be profitable.  

 

Well, I found a way, and I love it.  But there is a reason this fell beneath my eye today...a subtle reminder to set time aside to play.  Will be making time for that more often, with this reminder!

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Finding the Magic


I recently accepted a commission from a long-standing client for an artwork she needed in a short time frame.  That typically isn’t an issue, so I began to work on the piece.  It was relatively simple in scope, a smaller version of a painting she admired, but couldn’t use as it was.  The subject was uncomplicated, and my confidence was strong that the result would be pleasing to the client.  The composition was straightforward, and it seemed like a simple assignment. 

 

As I worked on the piece, the technical execution of the art was moving smoothly toward completion, and I should have been happy with what was evolving on the canvas.  But I wasn’t.  As a photograph of the inspiration piece, it was accurate, but as a painting, it had no life.  It was lacking in the magic of the scene.  When I realized there was a disconnect, I began to augment with active brush strokes, and subtle, but charged, color combinations. Not enough to stray from the client’s wishes, but enough to breathe life into the scene.  The painting came alive.  Now I could see what she loved in the inspiration painting.

 

The work was accepted by the client, and I’ve moved on to another commission.  It was a timely reminder to keep finding the magic in each artwork, large or small, and to treasure that spark of the creative that only the artist can bring to life. Isn’t that one of the reasons artists do what they do? 

 

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Take A Seat



Who wouldn't love a seat by the water? Just a couple of steps through the white sand into that cool blue.  Got the umbrella up for when the sun starts really beating down, and a cooler with refreshments to keep the day lively.  There's a sand bucket for the little one to fill with seashells, too.  Just a little mental vacation until the real one comes, if you aren't already there!

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The Dunes


I often work in a series of pieces, edge to edge.  I just paint across until I reach the end!  The important thing to remember when doing this is to make sure that each section is able to stand on its own, and have its individual impact.  These are three pieces, each 5"x7", set up edge to edge.  In total, they give the viewer the image of a full set of Atlantic dunes.  When framed as three separate pieces, especially if they are aligned on site, they give the impression of small windows onto an oceanfront scene. 

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Dusk Along the ACE Basin, SC


Dusk Along the ACE Basin, SC

I'm currently working on a series of art reflecting the beauty of the ACE Basin, South Carolina. According to the website http://www.acebasin.net/, the Ashepoo, Combahee and South Edisto (ACE) Basin represents one of the largest undeveloped estuaries on the east coast of the USA.  It encompasses 350,000 acres of lowcountry marsh, rivers, hardwood forest, with 134,000 acres under private, state or federal protection.  Great beauty exists in the land and water, and in the flora and fauna that live there.  There are a number of protected areas that are open to exploration by the public, and seasonal game hunts are allowed under strict supervision.  It truly is a treasure.

 

One cannot be a lowcountry painter and exclude the ACE.  It's raw, natural beauty begs to be captured visually.  I continue to return again and again to this landscape. It haunts my artistic vision, and I find that the landscape intoxicatingly enticing.  The series continues!

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ACE Basin #4


A backwater paddle down the ACE Basin of lowcountry South Carolina is a wonder.  The water is full of fish, dolphins, alligators, and turtles.  The trees droop spanish moss, and sing with the calls of birds. Herons wade searching for food. It is a place where life is slow, rich and where the presence of man is of no consequence.  Our personal vulnerability is so evident, how the power of Nature holds supreme.  Of course, this beautiful environment is at the mercy of Man's whims, mistakes, and destruction.  That is the power that WE hold.  May the ACE remain as it has always been, wild and rich.

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