Apparently, I’ve been doing nocturnes all wrong.
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S'mores (Ben and Cora at Rollins Pond), by Carol L. Douglas, 9X12, oil on canvasboard. It's difficult to photograph a wet nocturne. |
Like a good farmer, my bedtime is 7:30. Most of the year,
that makes painting nocturnes difficult. They only work in December,
when the sun sets at 4 PM at my little snug harbor. Otherwise, I’m tired and
fractious when I paint them, and that shows.
This year, there’s a full moon during Adirondack Plein Air. Even
I could see the advantages of staying up. Chrissy Pahucki and I had one of
those Great Ideas that so often gets me in trouble. She secured a campsite in
the state forest. I got the makings for S’Mores. We met at
dusk.
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The cycle of life (Black Pond), by Carol L. Douglas, 14X18, oil on canvasboard. |
It killed me to pay $5 for a bag of spruce logs when I have
about ten cords of hardwood behind my shed. However, the ban on moving firewood
applies even to artists. I felt a little better buying it from Paul
Smith’s College VIC. I’d like to think I was supporting their athletics
program, since the wood is split by their students.
“How about getting hot dogs to roast for dinner?” I suggested.
Fifteen-year-old Ben rolled his eyes at me, as if I were an elderly, daft
grandmother. I counted on my fingers. Yes, I was old enough, with room to spare. I cackled, since it seemed appropriate.
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Beaver dam, by Carol L. Douglas, 14X18, oil on canvasboard. A special thank you to Sandra Hildreth, who took me to this wonderful place. |
Cora, 14, has started to look startlingly like her dad, although
much prettier. She has a lovely profile and is a good model. I made a mental note
to have her pose for a real portrait next year.
We talked about important stuff, such as whether Ben could
toast a marshmallow without catching it on fire. Beth
Bathe concentrated on the back of Cora’s head, while Lisa BurgerLentz ignored us all and
went down to the shore and painted the waning light across Rollins Pond.
The moon rose, magnificent above a Winnebago parked nearby. “Wow,
this is beautiful!” exclaimed Chrissy, who’d wandered off and was standing at
the shoreline. We trooped down and admired the view, which was, of course,
spectacular. The pond was so still that the stars were reflecting in its
surface. A light froth of cirrocumulus clouds arced above our heads, and
simultaneously, at our feet. The moon, huge and wise, peeked through the needles
of an Eastern White Pine.
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The view that got away. I stood in the water to take this photo, and now my shoes are wet and cold. |
It was, of course, the better scene, one in a million, and
we’d let it get away from us. That’s always
the way, it seems. I try to
be philosophical and tell myself that’s the sign of a great painting location.
We had the campsite until 11 AM. Could I stay and paint
another nocturne? The late hour eventually won out. This morning I feel like I’ve
been on a three-day toot, which is why this post is late and barely
intelligible. But I learned something important about nocturnes: they’re much
more fun if you do them by a fire with friends.
2 comments:
Love this on so many levels! Glad you all had the opportunity to experience an amazing evening.
Thank you!
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