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I drove up to Kentucky on Thursday and spent that night and most of Friday at Shakertown with my sketchbook (and banjo) for company on my way to meet friends and sisters at a dance weekend. Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill (to give it its full name, though the locals and highway signs all say Shakertown) is one of my favorite places in the world. The buildings are mostly early 1800's, and they have been beautifully restored. It sits on a ridge with a view out over the blue Kentucky hills, and it's one of those places where nature and craft have combined in complete and beautiful harmony.
I'm posting the rest of these on my sketching page, where you can also read more about the place and my time there.
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I do so many different kinds of work that it's tricky to keep the website tidy and also display all the various facets of my art. I don't want to spill off the toolbar at the top of the website and have some categories not visible, so periodically I rethink my entire organization. This time I removed the "Commissions" section, to put under other areas, and gave "Sketches" their own section. They'd been hiding under the "Watercolor" section before. I also moved "Prints" up to the first spot on the toolbar. I do so little oil painting now that prints deserve the pride of place. They're where my heart is at this point, though I still work in oils occasionally.
Check out my sketches and see what I've been up to lately. I'll be adding a few more sections there as I get more scanned in.
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It was a holiday weekend, and many of the kids and grandchildren had returned to the family center, but they welcomed us in warmly, gave us coffee and homemade cakes on the terrace,and showed us around the house and land. It was special to me to be there again. The trip was the last one we took with Mom. She was in remission at the time, before her final round of cancer. Being back in those spaces we shared with her meant a lot.
And the family was so very kind to us. The two things I remember so clearly from that trip were the overwhelming hospitality of the Dutch people (we Southerners take such pride in it, but I thought the Dutch outstripped us by miles) and the fact that they ate chocolate for breakfast. I couldn't believe I hadn't grown up in such an enlightened country.
We spent the second week just across the field with Fleur, the sister of our original host. She took us in, also at the last minute, after my sister broke her ankle and we couldn't move to Amsterdam with the rest of the group. Fleur had a sod-roofed home, baby goats, a lamb to bottle feed, and a duck named Walter who waddled across the bike path from the lake for his dinner every night. Marian and I were both enchanted. Fleur very kindly let us come visit her home too, and walking in to see the big round coffee table for some reason evoked the previous trip in the strongest way. Memory is a funny thing. It was so special to be there with them and welcomed back to this lovely place. I'm very grateful for the opportunity.
I didn't have time to sketch much at all, so I'm adding a few photos as well.
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We got a marvelous welcome in Enschede. This city had a textile economy that made it a trading partner with Memphis for decades. Memphis helped rebuild her partner after WWII and sent cigar boxes from all the children of Memphis to the children of Enschede stuffed with things they couldn't otherwise get.
My great grandfather helped spearhead that effort, and my family participated in an exchange in 1982. In March, some leaders of the Memphis Heart and Sould festival came to Memphis to find musicians and renew ties. They had a newspaper clipping from 1947 that had a photo of my dad as a boy. The mayor recognized him and called Dad, and he had lunch with the Enschede folks. We decided to come over for the festival and got a warm welcome.
There was a documentary shown the first night about the link between the two cities, and Dad was in it. He was introduced at the reception afterwards and said a few words about his grandfather. I was proud of him and touched by the warmth of everyone who has welcomed us so kindly.
Here's dad being introduced at the reception.
The documentary was marvelous. They had done a huge amount of research and went everywhere in Memphis and its surroundings that I would have recommended for their cotton and blues double focus. I hope we can get it shown on public tv when they get it fully subtitled.
We spent yesterday at the festival and also wandering around the center city a bit. It was Saturday, market day, and I was entranced by the cheese stalls at the market with the big rounds of cheese.
Today we get to go visit our two hostesses who had our family to stay in 1982. It was a special trip, and I'm looking forward to seeing them again.
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Probably the number one reason I've fallen in love with this city is the coffee shop around the corner. They have kind and welcoming people, a charming interior filled with fresh flowers and good light, a garden patio, and freaking amazing food. I've been going twice a day, and I'm already plotting a painting trip here with the understanding that I have to be within about three blocks of this place. Around the corner is perfect.
There is some seriously good hot chocolate there as well. Plus house-made salmon salad. This morning I had a melt with Brie, chorizo, and fresh tomato jam that started with whole tomatoes as I watched. Everything is marvelous.
They also have a charming cat. The best shops and restaurants have four legged greeters. America is so behind the curve on that.
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Art is my vocation but is also occasionally a good social ice breaker. Once I was given my champagne, I realized I could stand around with it awkwardly, or I could sketch a while, keep myself busy, and maybe meet a few people in the process. I chose option two. Sketching occasionally makes a good parlor trick.
The ladies at my table continued the kind welcome and made me feel at home. Both women beside me had Tennessee connections, and we had a lovely meal.
I kept sketching after lunch during the program by James Farmer, who was delightful. I felt at home with his Southern accent and family stories. My grandmother from south Georgia sounded a lot like the women he grew up amongst. He had an easy manner and kept everyone laughing, and people were sorry when the talk was over. (Not always the case at these things.)
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I had spotted a gorgeous copper beech I'd never noticed before on my walk that morning (the park is so rich in beautiful trees), and it was calling my name, so we headed there. It turned out to be a perfect choice.
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I'm behind on my blog, so I'm going to work backwards because this is an easy post to get up tonight before falling into bed. My last night there was lovely. Frozen custard, of course, because I have to make the most of being in town with it (see the above paragraph), and then I went to a coffee shop called the Stone Spiral to hear some music. I only have a couple of facebook friends that are friends of friends whom I haven't met in person, but I've enjoyed greatly knowing Mike Holdinghaus that way. He's another musician and artist and has great reflections on life. I was delighted to get his invitation to come out and hear some songs and finally meet him and his wife Linda in person, along with a number of their talented friends. A couple of dancers I already knew came through as well, so it was an unexpectedly social evening. My original plan had been to paint till the light failed and then fall into bed after a Target/Ted Drewes run. This was much more fun, and I got to sketch musicians in the bargain, which I always love to do.
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I'm in New York visiting one sister and celebrating a birthday with another. We're mostly here to see theater, but I'm doing a bit of sketching as well, of course.
Above is my taxi ride from La Guardia, and below is the view from the diner where we had lunch. I was so happy we snagged a booth in the window.
We went to see Helen Mirren in The Audience last night. I was so excited to see her on the stage.
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So here are a few that are finished and ready. I have several more I'm still getting final prints of but that are mostly or fully carved. Above is Rainbow Lake at Overton Park.
Below are two images from Country Workshops, the wood working school I house sit for occasionally and visit friends at in between times. It's one of the wellsprings of my work over the last dozen years.
