DawnMillerArt

Update from Dawn

2011-09-15T05:40:00.000-07:00

Greetings,
I sit at my kitchen window listening to the ocean. It was there earlier. I saw it when the sun rose. Now, the Maine fog has erased the world beyond fifty feet. I guess painting is out for the morning. So, I heat another cup of coffee and decide to reach out beyond the fog limits with a blog note.

I am on Bailey Island, Maine. It is the last stop in a smattering of islands off the coast of Brunswick. The collection of rocks is called Harpswell. There is so much to paint here. I have rekindled my immense delight in plein aire painting. There is just nothing like it to sharpen the senses and soften the mind. There is an immediate feedback loop from what I experience to what goes on the paper. Every once in a while the brain will crack open the door of my consciousness with a whispered suggestion: color harmony, design,shape, vectors, edges, value....I listen, label it "thinking" and let that door close softly as the thought leaves the room.
There are rocks here. Lots of rocks. I smile alot at them as they remind me of the many times I hear the "I can't paint....(fill in the blank here)" from my students. Rocks are high on that list along with noses and clouds... trees and hands are right up there , too. I guess if it were ever made clear that it doesn't matter what is being painted, the recipe for success is very, very simple. It like flour, sugar, and salt a little water and a pinch of something else. You can take those simple ingredients and make alot of tasty things. Anyway, I have found representing rock formations a pleasant practice in simplifying.

There is alot of simplifying going on for me. The little cottage (two sheds stuck together) here on the island has continued to educate me about what I can do without. I have no runnng water or heat, but I do have a coffee pot, small fridge, microwave and a two burner hot plate. It works. When I return to Vero next week for a short visit, I will be moving into a small one bedroom apartment. It will be another opportunity to distill what I "need" to the essentials.

I suspect that my art will reflect this movement toward what is essential. Drawing. I have fallen in love with it again. A sketch pad full of crisp white paper, a 6B pencil and kneaded eraser..the basics,.good to go. I forgot about the quality of a beautifully drawn line. There was a John Marin exhibit at the Portland Museum of Art. In his later years, he focused on the powerful elegance of a single line. Not a bad goal.

So, I realize this is a blog... still figuring out what that is... not a novel... and will close.
I trust my correspondence finds you well, enjoying each breath.
Peace,
Dawn

More from Cafe Nomad, Norway, Maine

2011-07-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

Greetings,
I find myself back at Cafe Nomad, on the eve of my departure for New York City. Maybe I should have another latte to brace myself for the drive.
I moved into my cabin on the end of Jewitt Lake in N. Waterford ten days ago. Yes, I finally gained access and found the combination that I had scribbled on the back of a cd cover. I've got to quit doing that! Thanks to Betsy for her beautiful spot! The lake is remote and peaceful. I have learned to plan my dock rituals and walks in accordance with the social schedule of the black flies and mosquitos. We manage. This habitat is pristine and diverse. It has rekindled a deep appreciation and curiousity about the miracles that unfold every second in our natural world. I sit for hours on the dock, welcoming, with binoculars in hand, whatever shows up. Snapping turtles, bullfrogs (my friend Betsy told me if I kiss him, maybe I'll turn into a frog), banjo frogs (probably a southern term), loons in their brilliant plummage and syncronized swimming gracefulness.The beavers are somewhat skeptical unlike the young sunfish, pickerel and bass that have learned to take worms from my fingers. The sound of an echoing moose call will make you sit upright and think about dialing 911...even if I could... certain that someone is being slain in the wilderness.
The skies are different here. Cloud formations are not choreographed by earth and sea interfaces. They are free to move without dance steps or a dance floor. The pinks are softer in the morning light. The afternoon oranges are less intense. Everything is softer here. The edges are rounder. Maybe there are not so many things to protect yourself from here; no need for pointed edges or sharp thorns. I think I have softened, too.
I have been taking lots of pictures and painting in my head. I am filling my creative pitcher.

So, I trust my note finds you well....soft, full, and appreciative of all good things.

Sending love,
Dawn

First Contact

2011-06-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

Greetings! I promised I would start a blog (what does that stand for anyway?). I didn't promise it would be fancy.
I am currently in the Nomad Cafe, in Norway, ME. The name is appropriate as I have no idea where I am going. I managed to mis-remember the entry code for the cabin where I should be staying and the cabin owner is on the Cape in a blissful state of no cell phone reception. It's funny how the same condition, no cell reception, can conjure such contrary responses. Mine has been less than blissful. I have driven thru cold misty rain in inappropriate clothing seeking just the right latitude/longitude and elevation for ANY contact. Ok, ok, ok, there's a lesson here. Maybe life does go on without cell phones and starbucks.

The picture, in case you were wondering, is not me. Although I know I aged a few years driving thru New Jersey and New York city on I-95. Not something I am eager to do again (the aging or the driving). Two words got me through...FOCUS and BREATHE. I may be relying on these a few times on this trip.
Although it could be, this is not my Mother. This is Juanita. She is the same age as my Mom, 82, and has the same kind demeanor. Juanita runs the continental breakfast bar at the Days Inn in Asheville, North Carolina. Juanita is everyone's Mom. She smiles and loves indiscriminately. Age, race, serial numbers, bank accounts, clothes: clean or dirty, nothing matters..everyone is her "Baby". Juanita cannot hear well, even at close range. Despite this handicap, she has created a repretoire of responses that work regardless of the commentary. She sings her words in a lingering lilting mountain music unigue to this region. How'r you? Did you get enough? Fill up now, don't want you to go hungry, take more, if' you'ns want. Really? She uses this one alot...it works as a non-commital response for pretty much anything anyone says.. Think about this at your next party. One word will get you by pretty much all night..keep them talking. ( It occurs to me I should add this to my list of trip survival words: FOCUS, BREATHE, REALLY?) One of my favorite Juanita sayings was.. "You are so..." fill in the blank... sweet, cute, smart...any affirmation works.
Juanita is patient. Even the most seasoned cook is challenged by the make-your-own belguim waffle station. Juantia always fixes the messes, the things that didn't turn out quite like we expected. She has a special brush to scrap away the burned waffle remnants.. "that's alright, baby."

I hugged my brother goodbye. A long hug full of unspoken words and things that didn't turn out quite right. His voice cracked when he told me he loved me and I knew he was crying. "Sometimes it would be nice to be a kid again, you know?"he said. Yes, I know, baby. I said. We all need Juanitas.

Be well!