WRITE AFTER THIS...

2012-02-13T10:59:00.002-05:00

It’s Sad About the Trains

Rockingham Junction Station

Newfields/Newmarket, N.H.

On Saturday, Feb. 11, 2012, Gayle Hedrington and I were off on another adventure, but time allowed for a detour from our objective. We both love to photograph anything about the railroad and I remembered this old station I passed many times throughout the years watching as time took its toll on the abandoned building. I even stopped once in 1989 to take photos. I was interested in the railroad, but hadn’t yet developed a real passion for photographing anything besides personal adventures and family. I didn’t even know the name of the station at the time. However, it always saddened me that these beautiful buildings were abandoned and a way of life that was once so important to N.H. communities and economy had died. Hence I had developed the line, “It’s sad about the trains.”

Views of the old building were usually from the Rte. 108 overpass. Before the overpass was built, Rte. 108 crossed the junction. The 2003 road map I have calls the section of Rte. 108 between the Stratham Traffic Circle and Newmarket, College Rd. I have never heard it called that. The old section of road no longer crosses the tracks and on this current visit, I accessed it from the south side.

I was concerned that the building might no longer be standing. I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was it still standing, it was being renovated. It looked so different from what I’d remembered. I kept looking around to see if it was the right place. I am pleased that the place is being restored, but they are doing it in blue and not the original yellow. For some reason, that is disappointing, but it’s wonderful that someone is taking the care to fix it up. We took a few photos.

Normally I would never go onto property marked with No Trespassing signs, but my fascination with the railroad and history takes over. I hope I am forgiven. I would never do anything or cause any harm. I totally respect property. All I want is photos and to share the story of adventure in discovering the history of the wonderful places around us.

A Little Bit of History:

Rockingham Junction, built in the 1890s, was once a bustling area. The north and south line was used by the Boston and Maine Railroad between Boston, Mass. and Portland, Me. An east west line, started as the Portsmouth Concord Railroad, connected Portsmouth to Manchester. Rte. 108, though I’m sure it wasn’t called that then, also passed through this intersection. The area also boasted stores, restaurant, and freight depot.

The station closed in 1979, the restaurant burned and stores went away. In 2007, the freight depot was demolished. The line from the junction to Manchester was purchased by the D.O.T. in 1988, the rails torn up and the section is now part of the Rockingham Recreational Trail program. The B & M was bought out by Guildford Railroad and the name later changed to Pan Am Railways. The north south tracks are shared with Amtrak’s Downeaster passenger service between Boston and Portland and there is still some freight service to Portsmouth.

To see photos, visit FaceBook, A Touch of Light.

2012-02-11T09:15:00.002-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

These past few months have been some of the toughest times in my life. My mother declined and passed away on Christmas day. She was on a gradual downhill roll and then reached a steep drop off. Her last two months were horrendous for both of us.

Now I am picking up pieces, clearing out space, and moving on. I have my moments when the sadness, regrets, and wish I should haves take over. Tears fall and sometimes I never know when they’ll come. Such is the grieving process.

In between getting used to be without my mother and working towards this year’s art shows, I am redesigning my living space. My mother was a collector. This week I am going through jewelry; her personal pieces, things she saved of my aunt’s, items they found at the beach coin finding or bought at flea markets. It’s amazing how much they had accumulated.

I’ve spent the week sorting into bracelets, rings, cuff links, earrings, pins, and necklaces, etc. Necklaces have been sorted further between gold looking pieces, silver, chokers, beads and pearls, and pendants. I have a box of religious items, a box of military/American Legion items, and many odds and ends. It’s overwhelming.

I am fascinated by some of the older items like rhinestone sets. I don’t think these have much value and the artist’s eye kicks in. I’m intrigued at the thought of using these in multimedia art work. Then there are the broken necklaces and stones that have fallen out. In the collection there are a few pieces that look to be about the 50 or 60s period and still good. I really like them and don’t want to let them go. I don’t know that anyone would wear them and again, I am intrigued by the idea of using the pieces in art.

I’m not much of a jewelry wearer myself, but I love the beauty and designs. I use them as wall decorations. The plan is to get rid of all that I don’t care for and keep some of the nicer pieces and those that I want to use in art.

To the collections, I added things from my own boxes, pieces I’ve had since childhood. I am wondering why I saved them all these years. Because I thought I was supposed to? Because some boy I no longer remember gave me a ring or chain? Most of those pieces have no value and are not in good shape. Chains are pitted and rings discolored. They’re just junk jewelry.

Then there are jewelry boxes. I really don’t want to hold on to things just because they were given to me and this made me wonder why I have done so. This might have to do with self worth. I must have been worthy for someone to give me gifts. Holding onto these things remind me that I was worth something to someone at one time. Is this especially so at a time in my life when I am no longer given gifts?

Yes, something to think about. In one aspect, I could say, okay I’ve thought about it, move on and not dwell on it. However, I have decisions to make. Do I continue to hold onto this stuff? For what? Or do I just pick out the things that are appealing to me now and get rid of everything else?

After dealing with all of my mother’s collections, I am very aware of all the things we accumulate. I need to downsize my house and what’s the point of holding onto all kinds of stuff. My life right now is all about the art work. I don’t need all this other stuff. It just clutters and takes up space. So, if it’s not going to go towards art work, decorating my walls, or be something useful, it’s going to go.

Yes, I will keep a couple things for sentimental reasons, especially if given to me by my mother or father.

2011-12-15T07:31:00.000-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

I have been journaling for years. Most of it is mundane or whiny every day stuff, but every so often, there is a shift in my mental status during the writing. It’s almost like I have to get the previous day’s thoughts off my mind before I can access a higher realm. Most days are the same with recording events of the day before. However, once in a while, my mind will jump to another level. It is like that proverbial light bulb going off, that “Aha!” moment.

Today I was writing about the Muse which I find is a fascinating subject. I began to wonder how my thoughts of her have changed, and is it the same Muse for all my artistic talents. Is there a different Muse for writing as compared to another who comes for photography or drawing? For me, there is definitely another presence, like a whispering in my ear, “Yes, you can do this.”

Sometimes when I have questions like this, I will get answers as I continue writing. I find the Muse is a tease. She arrives unannounced and if I don’t give her proper attention, she disappears. Yet, if I try to focus on her and not the art, she might fade in and out. She wants me to concentrate on something artistic, not her.

As I started thinking about what I noticed about her past visits, I had one of those jumps of consciousness.

As I mentioned, I’ve been journaling for years and as a writer, I’ve often wondered about writing memoirs. I could never figure out where to start. That jump of consciousness brought me to thinking about those “Sparks of Enlightenment” that I occasionally experience through my writing. What if I made my memoirs about those? What would it be like for me to go back through my journals and pick those out? Of course, there would be some story with it, too.

Could I do that? I mean, could I do that? Me? What would it be like if someone else read my journals and would they see those sparks? “Sparks of Enlightenment” would tell my story without the boring, mundane, whiny, day to day experiences. But would it be interesting to anyone else? These sparks have given me boosts. They’ve been my “pearls of wisdom.”

The muse fades back in, whispers in my ear, “We are married. I am the only one for you. Do this.” My analytical, have too many other things to do, brain kicks in crying, “I can’t take on another project!” She just smiles and disappears leaving me wondering. Can I? Should I? What about all my other projects that I want to do? I have appointments, errands to run, things to do…

2011-11-17T06:59:00.002-05:00

Heartache… a poem

A Poem for the Dying

I am broken

brain dissolved

to mush in my tears

heart so heavy

it falls

onto a rock hard gut

and shatters

Slivers spread through veins

creating tiny cuts

from which despair

bleeds into my soul

Emotions fuse

one solid block of pain

creating physical ill

I am nothing.

It is hopeless.

You might just as well

crush me

like the slimy bug

I am

Already flattened

I may never get up

2011-11-16T06:20:00.002-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

I am reading a biography on Pablo Picasso. Here I am, an artist, and I’ve never studied other artists. I’m making a bit of an attempt. All I ever knew about this man was that he did strange things on the canvas. The book is thick and I’m about a quarter of the way through. I question how someone can write a biography about an artist and not have any pictures with the mention of what he was doing and where he was when he painted or drew such and such. (Okay, yes, I know there are copyright laws and needing permissions, etc.) I vaguely had heard of his blue period and his rose period and the book mentions this, but without actual pictures, it’s hard to visualize. The words have little meaning.

I looked on the internet. Ah, here are pictures and even the ones I’ve seen mentioned. Picasso certainly went through interesting personal growth in his life and it definitely comes out in his work. His style changed dramatically over time, especially with the discovery of cubism. I can’t say I’m a fan. The art is very interesting and sometimes scary.

As so often, I get caught up in the pricing of art. It’s easier to understand if a piece has a lot of detail, but the drawings for which there are only a few simple lines, questions rise. Who would buy something like that for that exorbitant price? Does this just prove that people will buy anything associated with a name?

Hmmm, that phrase sticks in my mind:

PEOPLE WILL BUY A NAME!

Picasso proved this. He went against the grain and created some bizarre pieces. At first, many hated his work. He pushed himself to do more, to meet other artists and art enthusiasts and those willing to promote his work. He pounded the pavement to make sales. He became a known name. In a way, at the time, it didn’t matter what the painting sold for, just that it sold to put enough bread on the table and pay rent and allow him to get supplies.

Picasso also had a charisma that attracted people and even when he wasn’t very nice to them, they still followed him. For some, that is natural. Others have to work hard at attracting people.

But I am not writing about Picasso to write about Picasso, a master, a legend in the art world, I am writing because of my on-going quest to learn how to sell my art. The masters didn’t start out as rich and famous with collectors flocking to buy their work and some didn’t make much of a living their entire lives and their works were not worth anything until after the artists’ deaths.

I don’t want to wait until I die before people begin buying my art. Of course, I’m certainly not in the same realm as those past masters. I just want to make a simple living sharing my work with others. So, how do I do this?

“People will buy a name” is sticking in my mind. I’ve been told by others that it’s important to get “out there” and get a following. Once more this is hammered home to me.

2011-11-08T08:13:00.002-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Coming off a weekend of NH Open Doors where I was set up at the Gallery at Well Sweep in Hillsborough, my mind is full of ideas and plans to further develop my skills as a successful artist and business woman. Defining oneself seems to be part of the on-going journey of life. Every time I come up with titles and start getting comfortable saying, “This is who I am,” other thoughts creep in telling me not quite. Artists not only have to come up with titles for what they do, but we also need to come up with ways to highlight our work for selling purposes. We are artists and sales people and the mentality that goes with needing to be both often feels totally at odds with one another.

The most successful artists are the ones who are great sales people. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how good the art is, it’s about the art of salesmanship. To these people, the wheeling and dealing is part of their art. Then there are those of us who find putting ourselves out in front of people and selling foreign to our psyches. For us, this doesn’t come natural. I love to talk about my art, but to feel like I am pushing myself on a potential customer doesn’t feel right.

I AM AN ARTIST! I want others to love what I do and want to buy. I spend hours thinking and planning and reading tips on how to approach people, how to sell, what to say, etc. One tip that sticks the most right now is “Art does not sell itself.” So, what can I do to set myself apart from others? What will make my work appealing and different? What words will make people notice me? (Even making that last question makes me feel a little funny. I want people to notice my work. However, people have to notice me first through ads and websites and word of mouth.)

Today I am musing over my photography. I am labeled a photographer, yet I don’t feel like I’m just a photographer because I don’t do weddings and those kinds of services. I was calling myself a Fine Art Photographer because my work is more in the artistic realms. Wait a minute! That makes me a PHOTOGRAPHIC ARTIST. Hmmm, maybe I could experiment with that badge for awhile…

We often have discussions on the differences between being a craftsperson, artisan, and artist. Some of my work can fit in the category of Fine Art, like the charcoal landscape drawings and large photo prints. Some of my work leans more towards crafts, such as the cards. All is important to me as an artist and so much of the business of being this artist is learning what will sell where and to whom. It’s an on-going dilemma even for people who have been doing this for years.

It’s even harder for those of us who work in multiple mediums.

2011-11-01T07:25:00.000-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist: Using People’s Images in Art

The subject of asking permission came up with regards to using people’s pictures as artwork. There was quite a discussion on a blog that I read. In my own work, I do not deal with people unless I am taking photographs for the newspaper and then I ask permission of subjects and parents if they are children. To me, it’s a question of ethics and just feels wrong to take pictures of someone without getting their permission, especially if you are looking to sell those pictures.

This morning, as I was journaling, I began seeing famous paintings and pictures of people in my mind. Did the artist or photographer have permission for every one? Of course, when someone, a model, sits for a picture, then permission is then given, but what of all those images snapped of people on the street or in less than pleasant situations; images that get printed in newspapers and magazines? Does journalism follow different rules from artists? How much depends on the situation?

Reading Jason’s blog left me feeling that this subject is mostly a question of ethics. Yes, in this country, there could be legal ramifications if permission isn’t granted, but there seems to be much gray area. My initial reactions are that it is wrong to even TAKE someone’s picture without their permission.

Because of these issues, I don’t do much with people shots from an artist standpoint. I have many pictures of the grandchildren and others that are amazing photos and yet, the thought of matting these with intent to sell seems wrong. I would not want pictures hanging on my wall of people I do not know, so why would I expect others to purchase photos that I have?

Pictures done by artists and photographers come to my mind along with the question of when is it exploiting someone’s picture and what is art. Nudity in art books is considered art, whereas in magazines, it is pornography. The models in magazines are giving permission for their images to be used, but the intent is very different from those who pose for painters or the sake of art. This was really brought to my attention when I worked at Barnes & Noble. I used to laugh to myself to see magazines wrapped up in cellophane and yet anyone could go to the art section and open big picture books to view nude women. ART. The eye of the artist.

Oh, my, the light bulb went off! It is ethics, but it is also how the artist SEES!!! The artist isn’t seeing the outside identity of the person being photographed or painted. Something is seen beyond that. The “model” is just a vehicle to capture an image, a memory, an expression. THAT’s the art! Not so much the person, but what the person is conveying in the moment. It is something that comes from within the artist and the vehicle for its release is in the model or image.

Yes, sometimes the artist is taking the photo or painting the picture of a particular person to do a commissioned portrait. Many times, however, the public will never know the real identity of that person. Names are not often used. Blue Boy, Girl with the Pearl Earring, Woman in Red, American Gothic, etc. Artists see things on a different level. They are capturing an image, a feeling of what the pose, the scene, the expression is portraying to them. They use a visual (model or photograph) to ignite the spark of creativity.

This made me think about a few of my pictures of people that I have thought about using, those that can be considered art. Of course, if I put those pictures out for sale, it wouldn’t be because of WHO that person is, but because of the expression, of what the total picture says, of the ARTistry of the photo. It’s the way that image is captured that takes it from a plain photograph to a work of art. A photographer may take a hundred photos and only get two or three that can be really seen as art.

This self inflection of how I view people in art has taken me to a new realm. No, I am not going to be a people photographer, but if, every so often, I get a special picture, then perhaps it will be okay to use it, to take it into the world of art. It will definitely be with permission, though.

2011-10-24T11:37:00.002-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Sometimes I get so stuck on things that I can’t seem to get out of my own way. On my mind and a top priority is to get a decent system set up for my “business.” Yes, I still struggle with saying that I am running a business. Or is it that I have a business? This was my major resolution for 2011 and here it is coming up to the end of the year and I’m still dithering. Every time I think I have a plan, I can’t seem to put it in place before another idea comes along or I get distracted.

On a positive note, I am further ahead than the beginning of the year. I am going to be so much better. I do have plans in my head. One thing I have realized about myself is that I am very good at coming up with ideas. I am not good at implementing them. How can I change that?

Of course I can say that I can stop thinking that I am unable to implement the ideas, but I just recently realized that aspect of self. In realizing and understanding it, I can change it.

Some of this is holding me back. Okay, maybe it is me holding me back. I struggle with allowing myself to do new work if the old is all disorganized. When I try to re-organize and arrange, my mind gets bogged down and I give up.

These past days find me making another attempt. A new price list has been drawn up. I am making folders for 2012 to better organize the business. Sometimes I wonder if I am making it more complicated than it needs to be. I am plowing ahead. It will happen.

Little steps.

2011-09-29T08:11:00.002-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

I think I spend too much time making lists of the things I want to do instead of actually doing the work. I make to do lists almost every day and then expand on the items on the list. I dream. I sketch out ideas. Often those ideas are pretty darn good. However they usually remain just a dream, just a simple drawing.

I decided I have another role. I am a juggler, and perhaps a jester, a pretender. I juggle the different aspects my life, my art. I drop the ball. I drop many balls; writer, photographer, artist, with a little care taking thrown in. Too many things are undone or in states of partialdom. (How’s that for a word?) How can I maintain focus on one thing when there’s so many to do?

It’s not all a total loss. I manage to get projects accomplished eventually; some of them, at least. More and more the work keeps me indoors and that is not always a good thing. It makes it harder to get out and it’s not good for my sanity. I need to get outside. I need to feel the earth under my feet, the breezes rustling my hair, and the fresh air against my skin.

I have to get my juggling act under control. I can do this. After all, these are all things I am passionate about. Doing these projects make me happy. I enjoy what I do. (Except when I get frustrated and angry.) I am determined to bring all my joys to great accomplishments!

2011-09-27T09:53:00.000-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Asking for help is an issue that many find difficult. For me, it was so. People mean well, but I’m always afraid that they don’t really have the time. That proves true when others are busy when I do ask. The hardest part for me was asking for help in the simplest of things and the chores that I felt was my job and that no one else should have to deal with. For instance, I couldn’t bend over to clean the cat box or empty my mother’s catheter bag. It was hard for me to have someone else do my laundry. If something got dropped on the floor, it stayed there until someone came over. These are things that you just can’t ask any person to do.

The very worst of having pulled muscles in my back was needing to twist and bend to take care of… private issues… when any kind of reaching brought tears and howls. That I refused to ask help in and had to deal with the pain and self embarrassment alone.

Dealing with feelings of guilt is a challenge, too. Will I ever be able to reciprocate? Should there be monetary payment and how could I afford that? And the most awful thought, would I be willing to do for someone else all they have done for me?

Then there were three shows in a row. I’d looked forward to these all summer. I couldn’t back out. I was committed. The first I was able to get delivery of my submission through the help of someone who also needed the same service.

For the Open Studio Tour, I couldn’t ask the people who were taking care of my mother’s needs to do this. All the regular people who would have come to my aid had prior commitments. Luckily, I’d met a woman last month who offered to help and she was great. The first show was a success.

However, my new friend got sick during the week and couldn’t help on the following weekend. Again others had commitments as September is a busy month. Another artist friend offered, but I was leery of taking her up on that because she had her own set up to do. I felt guilty because it wasn’t so much helping me do the work as it was doing ALL the work as I could not bend or lift.

The host of the event promised to help, too, and also volunteered her husband. My truck was packed up by another friend and I drove to Penacook. It was the longest drive since the injury and by the time I arrived, getting out of the vehicle was difficult, but I got over it. Between the host and hostess and help from another artisan’s husband, I was set up in no time, and another helped with the display. At the end of the weekend, these people were wonderfully gracious in packing me back up. I could not thank them enough.

What does this say about asking for help? Don’t give up when the first person you ask cannot. Be willing to say yes to those who offer. Do not feel guilty because in some time and in some way you will be able to help someone else. If you cannot pay, is there a something or a service you can trade?

I am so thankful for all the help that I’ve received during this stressful time. I am also grateful for all the advice, support, and encouragement. I’m still mending and improving every day. Life is good!

2011-08-24T12:11:00.002-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Sometimes it’s scary having so many interests. I am caught up in being an artist and a writer and having deadlines and schedules to adhere to. I worry that I might drop the ball on something important.

2011-08-05T08:20:00.000-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Walking and Stirring the Creative Fire

I am on my second week of daily walking. I used to walk all the time when I lived on the Seacoast and found it emptied my mind of things bothering me and filled me with inspiration and creativity. I wrote most my poetry as I was walking. Words would pour from my soul. I always carried a notebook and wrote as I walked… and some of it was pretty darn good!

Now when I walk, my mind is blank. Oh, I might stop to take a photograph or two, but mostly I feel brain numb or I am thinking about getting back so I can work. I wouldn’t mind that train of thought if I was coming up with ideas. Then when I do get back, I find it difficult to get into work mode. My thoughts are scattered.

Hopefully, as I continue my walk routine, the old creative juices will stir. Nature usually does that for me. Wait, I am walking along the road. Maybe I need to find some wooded trails. Not that the traffic distracts me on this back road and it’s nice to have people wave or to be able to speak with others, but maybe it’s not solitary enough. Somehow I don’t think that last statement is totally true.

So, what is it? Perhaps it’s just buckling down… that’s a term that I use a lot for myself, “buckle down.” I do tend to be pulled in different directions, but that’s what comes from having too many interests. At least I can say I like what I do... and even when I do nothing, I like that, too, ha ha.

2011-07-29T09:51:00.000-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

SELLING YOUR SOUL TO THE MUSE

I am reading a biography of painter/sculptor Margarett Sargent after just finishing one on Celia Thaxter, poet/painter. I’ve read biographies of artists; Georgia O’Keefe, Sylvia Plath, and many others. I am caught up in the similarities between the artists and even though many of them lived in a time when men ruled the artistic world, these women struggled with their drive to create and to compete in that man’s world, plus go against the dictates or women’s roles in society.

This morning my mind is bubbling over. I totally understand what these women went through and even though women today are accepted as artists, there are some challenges that carry throughout the ages. Women’s major roles are still seen as daughter, wife, mother, and grandmother with everything else coming after that. There is also the added stress that it is necessary for women to work outside the home. For most, art is seen as a hobby, something that can be allowed only after everything else is taken care of.

My own life had been… art depraved. I never took formal training. Upbringing dictated the traditional roles and even though an inside part of me fought that tooth and nail, I basically followed the norm. No one in my family ever cared a hoot about art and few of my friends seemed to have talent. I struggled. I was extremely unhappy. I felt caged.

And yet, even those women who were able, through upper class upbringing or perseverance and talent, to get traditional training and make a name for themselves in the art world, still had some of the same issues that struggling artists suffered. Many were often considered crazy, out of control, and would spend time in sanitariums suffering severe depression… and no one talks about what went on there.

Today the term, “Selling your soul to the devil” came to mind and I thought, that as artists, we “Sell our Souls to the Muse” and the Muse is a jealous mistress. (I always see the Muse as female.) When she is with us, we have to devote all our attention on her, on our creativity and if we do not give her 100%, she runs off to someone else leaving us feeling betrayed and abandoned. This is why artists spend so much time in solitude to create their works. When the Muse is present, her hold is all consuming until the current pieces of work are finished.

When the artists are released, for the moment, they usually go to the other extreme; from hours and days of solitude to parties and wild abandon. During the process of creating, the artist is tightly wound and with the completed painting, sculpture, or writing, there is an immense amount of energy that is released. At that point, there is freedom until the Muse grabs hold again. Yet, there is freedom on living under the Muse because the artist is allowed to follow the dictates of her heart.

The need to create demands time, time away from family and friends, time when the artist has to choose between the demand of creativity and responsibility and duty to “normal” life. If family is understanding, all is well, but if the family is not supportive, then troubles and arguments arise. This is especially hard on women in their traditional roles of daughters, wives, and mothers. It’s difficult when the Muse has your soul to be able to balance creativity with caring for husbands, children, and older parents.

I know. I sold my soul to the Muse. It can be depressing, cause intense feelings of guilt, and drive wedges in relationships. On the other hand, to be creative brings such extreme joy and happiness. It’s definitely a tight rope walk and every so often, we fall off. Maybe there never can be a real balance between being an artist and having an active family life. We are who we are and we have to do what we do.

2011-06-06T15:03:00.001-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Sometimes I feel like a failure. Here I am again getting ready for another show--- Hillsborough Area Artisans’ Spring Into Summer Faire--- and once more I am questioning pricing. I try to work a formula, but I still question. I want to be fair to customers and I need to be fair to myself.

Others I talk to go through the same dilemmas so I am not alone. I want my work to sell, but I also need to make a profit. I’m not looking to make big bucks, but I also want to be seen as a professional. I want to be consistent and, of course, I want people to like me and love my work. I want people to love my work enough to buy it.

I love what I do and I’m proud of my art work whether it’s Fine Art Photography or Exquisite Charcoal Landscape Drawings.

2011-03-29T08:54:00.000-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Yesterday I went back to working on my novel. I’d not written in a couple months, but it did not take me long to get involved. As a matter of fact, the story consumed me all day, so much so that when Ma’s visiting nurse was leaving, I was all mixed up which day of the week it was.

Then this morning, it starts in again. I keep thinking of things to add. I jot down notes as I am trying to get other things done. When I was in the shower, a whole big scenario worked itself out and I was excited, but the minute I got dried off, that whole scene was gone. (The Muse teasing me.) Still, though, other scenes, dialogue, and ideas are rolling off my mind like clouds going by on a windy day. I cannot possibly record it all.

This happens to me, this total involvement in the story. It’s like it takes me over and I can’t stop thinking about it. One of the problems is that it jumps around quickly. A scenario will be running in my head and then logic kicks in to realize that for this to happen something in a previous chapter would have to change to lead up to this moment. Another problem is that in my mind everything moves so fast that there’s no way I can capture it on paper or typing. I have to rein the mind in and that slows some of the creativity.

I am disappointed that my descriptions are lacking. I have no trouble with action and dialogue, but describing people and being able to talk about their clothes are a real issue. I want to talk about this with other writers... the writing process….

I am sooo excited about this story! BUT… and I am ashamed to say… the main character was a minor character in someone else’s story and the world these people live in are from that other author’s fantasy series. I have added new characters and other stories. I don’t feel I have it in me to create new worlds but I absolutely can get into creating new characters and new storylines. Who knows, maybe I can eventually sell this story to that other author.

2011-03-28T06:52:00.000-04:00

Because I've not written in awhile, I figured I'd do two today.

Living the Life of an Artist

“When you do art, you submerge yourself into your own reality, your own little world. You place yourself inside what you love about life. When you celebrate that place with discipline, sometimes it shows up and is right there with you.

But when I set aside my art for a few days, it gives me the cold shoulder. It walks away from me until I again show my good intent.” ----excerpt from Heron Dance, Reflections of a Wild Artist.

I often experience this and call it my belief about the Muse. When She comes and I pay attention, the creativity runs rampant and I am filled with joy and excitement at what I’m accomplishing.

If I am busy and don’t take the time for the Muse, She goes away and might not come back for awhile. I am left feeling like I’ve disappointed Her. Once in awhile, She’s even a bit angry at my lack of attention to Her… my Muse has a bit of an attitude. She turns Her back on me leaving me with the feeling that I’ve missed out on something great.

I’m always grateful when She returns and once more our relationship is whole.

2011-03-28T06:29:00.000-04:00

Living the Life of an Artist

For a few days, other things throw me off balance and artistic endeavors are sporadic. There are too many irons in the fire and it’s hard to focus on one thing. Many days go by where I feel I’ve accomplished nothing. Life gets in the way of the art. Responsibilities drag me away from the easel and often my own perceived dilemmas create roadblocks in my mind.

Accomplishing nothing is not a one hundred percent true statement, though. Just because nothing gets finished, doesn’t mean I am not working. Sometimes the steps are very, very small. I can accept that.

And sometimes it’s not that I don’t get anything done; I am not getting art work done in the way I want to be working. If I leave the house to run errands, I am doing something that needs to be done. If I go do an interview, then I am working on an article for the paper. Breakfast with my artist friends is rewarding in that we support one another, plus there is always the opportunity for a photo op somewhere between here and there.

2011-03-08T09:05:00.003-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

The excerpt from Heron Dance this morning was about courage and faith of artists. He talked about believing in the value of our work and he went on to say ”People pay lots of money for the creations of van Gogh, Picasso, Pollock, because, in part, they are monuments to courage, to belief in oneself. These artists transcended the realities of their lives, they kept at their work, stayed faithful to their vision, despite rejection, despite disappointment. Their works are seen as celebrations of faith in oneself. What makes great artists great in part is that their belief in themselves, in their vision, is great.”

It is all about continuing the work and the belief that what we do IS worth it, that our work has meaning, that others will like it. And there are those times when we can't afford new supplies, so we make do with what we have or we find other ways to be creative. Artists are not always ordinary... Oh, maybe we can seem to be for a little while, but then we fall off the grid of what most people think is a good use of time and how we should be "making money."

I never considered that the "world looks to artists for courage." It's true, though. We have a lot of courage! Look at what we go through, yes the ridicule, the comments that we can't make a living being an artist, and all that other stuff. Yet, we persevere, we keep creating, even knowing that we seldom ever make the money back that we put into the effort. We don't give up. We find ways to do what makes us satisfied.

"...Celebrations of faith in oneself..." Wow, even on days when I crash and am discouraged, there is still that faith in myself. I know that I can do this. I KNOW that I am an artist. Maybe that's one of the reasons I leave my work all over the house. When I look up and see those pictures and cards and scarves, I feel good knowing that this is all my work. Even if it's not sold at the moment, I know that at any time it COULD sell. Someone might walk in today and just have to have a drawing or picture. Doing the work IS worth it, even if it's just making me feel happy.

2011-03-04T08:33:00.000-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

Sometimes I try to do too much to a piece and for my technique, that does not work. I attempted to finish four of my drawings the other day and got discouraged with three of them. I walked away with one finished product. It’ll take me days before I can face those others again because, at the moment, I don’t like them very much.

Yesterday, on the small table easels, I attached three more blank sheets carefully torn from a 22x30 sheet. I prefer to work in smaller sizes, usually around 10x6 or smaller. I started two more drawings. The first is a re-do of one that is downstairs on the big easel and the other is from a recent photo of Lake Todd.

The time went by fast. I am trying to adapt my style and go with a “less is more” aspect and even though I use a photo as a guideline, I allow the drawing to take on its own style. Good headway was made and I am pleased with the progress. With the re-do, I am trying to figure out how to add the “hint of color.” I have an idea, but I’m not sure it’s going to work. I might experiment on a piece of scrap paper.

I am happy with yesterday’s work.

2011-02-25T07:22:00.001-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

What if I can’t keep up with the demand? This is a fear that bothers me; a seemingly stupid fear because the chances of that happening are quite nil. Yet, that is a concern. My stubborn mind-set tells me that as an artist, I can only work when I FEEL like working. For me to even be thinking of this “problem” is ludicrous because at this time in my artist’s career, the possibility of having my work at such demand is highly improbable.

I hold back from participating in other shows and I am unwilling to contact more galleries because if my work sold quickly, I’d have to buckle down and work harder to produce more. I’d be working, not for my own fulfillment, but to satisfy the demands of the gallery owners and customers. But we are talking about making a living here! How can I not be pushing ahead? Why in the world do I insist on making this harder than it is?

Perhaps I come up with these excuses to justify laziness. To make the issue a “fear” gives the excuse for not getting work done more validity. Admitting a fear is more acceptable than saying you are lazy. And yet, when I have an inventory of stock that hasn’t sold, how can I justify making more?

There are answers for all these questions. It’s really all about HAVING to be creative. You can’t stop just because your work doesn’t sell, nor will it cease because you are afraid. Somehow, some way, you find a way to keep going.

2011-02-23T07:22:00.001-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist

I’ve taken a bit of a break from doing any art work as my granddaughter, Megan, is spending her vacation with me. How wonderful as she is such a joy to have around. Today I’d like to take her bowling.

It feels funny to be totally blowing off doing anything artistic. Part of me feels a little guilty that I should be working on finishing up the charcoal drawings. I’m also supposed to be getting pictures ready for a photography slam. Haven’t done any writing either, but hey, I guess I can take a week off.

Then again, it doesn’t take much to give me an excuse not to work. Why is that, when I love what I do? I love working on my art, so why don’t I work at it more often? These are questions that always make me wonder.

Am I afraid of being successful? This is another question I’ve pondered for years. How can anyone fear success? When I think of what would happen if I were very successful, it is mind-boggling. Would customers be demanding more work than I can produce? Would my time be less of my own as I’d be working with more deadlines and consignments? I would have to be making more contacts with galleries. I’d need to be more “out there” with the public and might lose my solitary time. What if I couldn’t live up to that?

Then I’d be a failure. Perhaps it is better to remain in obscurity and continue to hibernate as much as possible. Of course, the downside to this is that it doesn’t pay the bills.

2011-02-20T07:03:00.001-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist
Oh, the things that get in the way of doing your art… life, for instance. The focus breaks and it’s hard to get back into the mood. I can’t make myself work on my art when my heart isn’t in it. I will think about it, but the motivation isn’t there. A downward spiral begins, apathy sets in, and I get mad at myself for not doing any work.
One of my goals for this year is to get into a walking routine. I know that an hour or so outside will pump me up and make me feel alive. So yesterday, I planned to do an interview with some people going on a snow shoe tour. I couldn’t actually go because I hurt my knee earlier in the week.
I was eager to do the interview and had been planning questions in my head, but when I arrived, I felt tongue-tied and out of place. Here it comes up again… the solitary artist trying to fit in with a group. This happens to me time and time again. Writing is a major part of my art and most of it is done when alone, and yet, to get good stories, I must go out and talk to people. So, why do I crash in front of them?
I arrive home. Look at my other project on the easel, but I was feeling like a loser, so I picked up a book and buried myself in a story telling myself that there is plenty of time.
Yet, time is a factor to consider. I am older now. What if my time runs out and I’ve not finished my projects? If that should be, it will. What is important to me now, is that I work when I am in the mood. What’s important is that I keep working and take time to enjoy every aspect of this journey.

2011-02-18T08:49:00.001-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist
Blue jays are making a horrible racket. I counted about 25 of them. I know some people would hate to hear this, but I’d like to shoot a dozen or so. They are annoying and distracting. Today is the start of Cornell University’s Bird Count. I’ve seen 3 cardinals, 5 robins, and a chickadee this morning.
I have a lot to do today, however, and can’t spend all day bird watching. “Heron Dance,” a… I’m not sure what to call it, but I get “Reflections from a Wild Artist” from it every day and today he was talking about the cantankerousness of artists. (www.herondance.org.) There was a quote from John Lennon from an interview he did one time and he mentioned the selfishness of artists.
I can understand that. I often think about and question my selfishness. How selfish am I? And how it is said, “It’s all about me.” I think about my irritation at being interrupted when I need to get my mother something. I can be very bitchy when I am not able to work on my art, especially as one little interruption will throw me off for the whole day. Most of the time, I can’t even stop to eat because once I take a break, I can’t seem to get back to it. Then I get upset with myself and will tend to take it out on others when they try to talk to me.
The life of an artist is very emotional and part of that turmoil goes into every piece we do; no matter what type of art we do. It’s very personal. It’s like we are putting ourselves out there for the world to see and oftentimes, the world cannot understand it and throws it back in our face. We are misunderstood, so artists tend to “act out” and do totally outrageous things.
For me, when I do a charcoal drawing, there is that desire to make something beautiful, to take a photograph and put my own artistic spin on it. I want to share the beauty from a different perspective. Even in the photography work itself, I am attempting to share moments of awe with that child like joy of discovery. I am inspired and excited. So much of what catches my eye is like finding buried treasure. In those moments I am soooo happy. Then I crash when others do not see it as I do, when they cannot understand the joy. When I am that happy, I want to share that feeling and I am disappointed when they don’t get it.
I crawl back in my hole and don’t come out for days.

2011-02-17T08:27:00.001-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist
February 17, 2011
Today I am once more thinking about my lack of discipline and it’s a subject I’ve griped about for years. Nan and I went to a gallery yesterday to pick up some of our work because we’ve been unable to get responses from the owners there and if the pieces are not selling, they need to go elsewhere. She thought to bring her list and something to carry her things in. I just showed up. Another artist came in behind us also wanting her things and she brought a plastic tote to put her baskets in.
I am wishy-washy. They demanded their articles and I stood by without saying a word. The woman in the building has nothing to do with the gallery, but there is fear that we are going to lose our art work.
What’s that got to do with discipline? Nothing except that I knew I was going down with the intent to bring my pieces home. Why wasn’t I prepared? Without proper material to protect my pictures, the glass and frames would get scratched, plus I would have to make multiple trips up and down the stairs because most of the work is on the second floor. I suppose I could say that I knew intuitively that I wouldn’t be able to get my stuff, but if that is true, I wasn’t conscious of it.
Back home, I let myself sink into apathy. I let stupid excuses get in the way of doing my work. I wonder if other artists suffer from this. Perhaps their discipline and drive are stronger. The funny thing is, I THINK about the art work all the time. I picture myself standing at the easel finishing the pieces. In one form or another, my mind is almost always thinking about my projects and coming up with ideas for new ones.
This is true for a few days anyway. Then I jump back in with both feet. One thing I have to remember is that because I work on many projects, the steps taken seem small and it takes a longer time to get anything finished. And that’s the truth! THHHHppphhhttt. (For those of you who remember Lily Tomlin’s character, Edith-Ann.)

2011-02-16T06:03:00.001-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist
February 16, 2011
I made shepherd’s pie and invited Betty and Nelson to lunch. In cleaning off the dining room table, I put the easel with 3 wip pictures on the floor. They remarked on my progress, we had a great lunch, and after they left, my mother said, “Do you know what I don’t like about your drawings?”
Jeez, I should have known not to face the pictures towards her. Here we go again. She’s got to pick everything apart. I didn’t answer her. It was all so familiar.
“I’m only joking,” she went on after a few moments when I didn’t respond. I did know that in this instance because I also had the photographs from which I was working leaned up on the easel and I knew she was going to reference something about them and her eye sight--- which she did.
But because her initial phrasing was of words I’d heard before coming out of her mouth, I shut down to whatever else she had to say. She has always been this way with me and is perhaps one of the reasons why it took me so long to acknowledge myself as an artist, to feel secure in myself that I don’t need her approval. People often say that you are your own worst critic, but for me, it is my mother. Yes, I do sabotage myself often, but it’s my mother’s voice I hear in my head with the negativity, so I’ve taken to not showing her much of my work until it is finished.
I grew up with the negative critique over riding anything positive. That’s probably why I dislike criticizing anything. It’s a fine line between stating an opinion and supporting an artist. Sometimes one little moment of a bad comment can send an artist reeling from which it might take weeks for her to recover. If you must “find fault,” at least try to throw in what you like about the piece especially in the presence of the artist.
My mother said to me once when we were having one of those “Why do you have to be so negative” conversations that she has a right to her opinions. Yes, you do have a right to your opinion and yes, it’s good to be honest, but it’s also important to be diplomatic. In being honest with your views, is it right to hurt someone’s feelings? Is it okay to always state why you don’t like something instead of saying what qualities the person or piece of art has? My mother, in her need to be honest and have her opinion count, somehow learned to only see the faults or her idea of offering critique was in commenting on what wasn’t good.
Is that the role of a good critic? Is it necessary to strip the artist of her joy at creating something she feels is wonderful? Oh, don’t give me that crap about building good character or that it will make the person try harder. That’s a cop out… most of the time. In my opinion, people who are so negative are really insecure in their own abilities so they lash out at those who accomplish what they are unwilling to do or try.
Not everyone will love the work we do and we should not expect them to. However, we shouldn’t have to duck, either. Maybe I am just a fragile artist and one negative word will send me crashing to the floor. Maybe I am just tired of listening to all the fault finding… and here I am finding fault with those who love being negative.
Critiquing is not about finding the bad things about a piece and we do need to be allowed our points of view, so how can we choose words that will allow us to be honest, yet still be supportive of the art/artist?

2011-02-15T09:16:00.000-05:00

Living the Life of an Artist
February 15, 2011
Bright, cold, windy morning and after a restless night (as restless as the wind,) I am feeling stiff and achy. These bones are getting old and tired. I should go out walking, but it’s too darn cold. Instead, I sit with a bowl of oatmeal trying to get motivated to work on my drawings. You’d think from the beauty I can see from this window, that I’d feel more inspired.
A lot of snow melted yesterday in temperatures that reached 50. I’m not looking out through bars of icicles any more. The bird feeders that I’ve not seen in weeks are poking out of the snow, but now the snow looks dirty as it’s covered with limbs and pine needles.
I’m debating my work schedule for today. Minutes need to be typed for last month’s LSSC BOD Meeting. I have the 5 drawings in various stages on the easels here in the dining room. The next step is to bring them downstairs to the basement studio to put them on the big easels so that I can get a better view and finish them up. Two of them are close to being finished and if I get them done today, I’ll be able to take them to the framer tomorrow.
It’s funny the obstacles that come up; obstacles that are often only in the mind, the self-sabotage, the lack of motivation. How to work beyond them is one of my jobs. How to not be distracted by an idea for another project or how to return once I’ve been interrupted… even if it’s just by Freyja who stretches on the table beside and reaches out with one paw to remind me she likes kitty-pats.
It’s time to put finishing touches to a drawing which will be done with electric eraser and a charcoal pencil. I have a hard time keeping the pencils sharp enough to do the little bit of detail work, that just enough to create the illusion of detail. Why do I let that hang me up?

2011-02-10T08:41:00.000-05:00

DESCRIBING OURSELVES AS ARTISTS
Nan and I are conversing on art and talking about ourselves as artists. The struggle always seems to be where one fits in with her art. People want to put everything in categories, but what if what you do doesn’t follow the normal parameters of any one category or it doesn’t fall into where others think your work should be? Isn’t part of being an artist following your own inner dictates or listening to that muse?
Nan describes herself as a Photo Realist because her goal is to create a painting that is mathematically precise to the photograph. For years, others have told her that working from a photograph is, in a way, just making a copy of the photo, but for Nan, her entire process to do that painting is, in itself, art. She spent years developing her technique and her paintings are beautiful and life-like. The detail that she puts into every painting is phenomenal and she’ll spend hours with tiny brushes getting every stroke precise.
I think about the beliefs we develop and how, no matter what some people say to us, we still have to do our work in our own way and it often changes and develops new streams.
A few years ago, I took a couple of classes in charcoal landscape drawing. The idea I was taught was to “create the illusion of detail” and I love that concept and took to this art form as if I’d been doing it for years. However, as I develop my own technique, I am also making self discoveries as I explore the works’ processes.
At the end of last year, I got the idea of adding a “hint of color” to give the drawings a boost and with the next two drawings, I tried it out and liked it. With these drawings still not finished, though, I am questioning my processes. I actually like the one least finished better than the one that is just about done.
What does this mean? “Creating the illusion of detail” was what I was taught, but am I trying to put in too much detail? Let me think about this further…
First I recognize that there is always a point where I absolutely hate my drawing. I am tempted to give up and I walk away. Days, sometimes weeks, later, I come back to it. Then I will reach the point where I like it, but it isn’t finished so I keep working and then I don’t like it so much again. I finally reach a point where it is finished and I like it okay. Just okay?
Now I come to the conclusion that I liked it better before I put in more detail. So what does this mean? The word “minimalistic” comes to mind. Would I do better if I fell into that category? I try to think exactly what that means in the art world and I believe that the drawings would not quite be minimalist, that I’d still have more detail than would be described in those terms. Still, if what I am trying to accomplish is the “illusion of detail,” then I need to re-group and stop trying to put in too much detail.
When I stand back from the drawing, less is better. Perhaps my worry is that if people get close to the picture, they will see that detail is blurry. It is that fuzziness that lends the aura of mystical to the drawing. (It also makes it hard to photograph.) The picture looks “cleaner” from a distance and I was once told that pictures are not supposed to be viewed up close. Hmmm…
I have a total of 5 drawings in various stages on the easel boards, two on one board and three on the other. I like working on more than one at a time. When I start getting a frustrated with one, I can work on the others. One of them has quite a bit of detail in it (that one almost finished.) With my new concept, I am eager to get back to work. When these are finished, I will have a better understanding of who I am as a charcoal landscape artist. It’ll be interesting to see where this goes.

2010-12-02T09:53:00.001-05:00

Being Our Own Worst Enemy
We are often our own worst enemies and this is played out before me time and again. Lately I’ve let the stress get to me almost to the point of making myself sick. I tell you, though, much of it is my own fault. (Okay, maybe all of it is my fault as I am in charge of my feelings.) I can be as stubborn as I accuse my mother of being. I brag to myself that I have all the tools and that I am “experienced,” but when I am faced with adversity or tough times, I crash and will tend to wallow in my misery.
There are some interesting aspects to this, however. Even when I am in anguish, there’s that part of me that self analyzes. Are there times when I act just like the person whom I have allowed to get to me in the moment? If I have all these “tools,” why am I not pulling them to the fore and being compassionate and peaceful? When I take time to pull back from the emotions, I am actually able to focus on why I am feeling thusly.
Another interesting aspect is that I have to admit that I often will choose the negative behavior around specific topics; my mother, legal stuff dealing with lawyers or real estate, the medical profession, etc. I suppose I could congratulate myself for this ability except that I do nothing to change it. I could… if I chose to.
So, why do I choose to allow myself misery and anger? Does it really have to do with the Buddhist belief that we are here to suffer? The latter is part of it, however, it’s also an excuse not to change or try to change. That means, if I am being honest with myself, I have to look at the first question. Why DO I choose to be miserable?
The biggest reason is because it takes WORK to change and if I am not willing to do the work, the old patterns will keep repeating. Alright, I admit, I am lazy. I don’t practice what I preach, and yet, I totally, one hundred percent believe in what I know.
Perhaps this is part of my evolution. Because I fall into the pit just like everyone else, I certainly will never think I am better than the next person. I know what suffering is because I, too, suffer; maybe not exactly like the next person, but it is suffering. It also makes me vulnerable and sometimes that can be a good thing as I’ve been accused before of not letting anything bother me.
Why do I choose the misery? Do I feel guilty when I am happy when everyone else around me has problems? There’s some truth to this, too, but it also has to do with empathy. I can’t shut the world off all the time and the universe does have ways of… testing one… and I always know when things go well for awhile, there is going to be a downslide. It’s the way of life.
Maybe this is why when I crash, I crash big time and unless someone or something scrapes me off the pavement with a shovel, I wallow in the abyss… for awhile… until it’s over… until it’s time to crawl out again… Then I pick myself up, dust myself off, and go on--- carrying a few more scars… or maybe they’re badges of courage… because I’ve not totally given up…

2010-07-26T11:49:00.000-04:00

2010 Photo Walk in WRJ

This past Saturday I participated in my first photo walk, hosted by Lia Rothstein of the Photostop Gallery in White River Junction, Vermont as part of the Third Annual Worldwide Photo Walk. Photographers from many areas of the world were invited to get together to walk and take pictures on the same day. Handouts were given at the sign-in with directions and theme suggestions such as taking pictures of a certain color or shape.

The evening was hot and thunder storms threatened. People came with various equipment; big cameras, little cameras, tripods and extra lenses. Right off the bat, individuals drifted off as attention was grabbed. I was still debating whether to go with a theme or to just find what appealed to me. I was surprised that most didn’t stick with a group as some stopped while others moved on.

I am always intrigued by angles, lines, and windows. Oh, and there’s old buildings and things that are round… and colors… I started looking up the side of buildings and catching clouds in the window reflections. I took shots up ladders and of rows of lights. I captured roof lines and windows.

“Trains,” Gayle said. Oh, yeah, we’ve been working on a train project, so we decided to go to the station arriving in time to get photos of an incoming passenger train. One of the conductors even posed for us after all the passengers were off and as we explored inside the building, the ticket master offered to open the office for us where we oohed and aahhed while taking pictures of the old equipment.

The allotted time was running out and everyone began drifting back towards the gallery where the café next door had reserved spaces for us. It was wonderful to take time to share stories and techniques while showing the pictures taken. I also enjoyed that, like me, some people were also into other art mediums.

The food was good. I ordered a roasted Caesar salad trying to imagine what roasted lettuce would be like and my first impression was that it was “just okay,” but the more I ate, the more I liked. Finally, the association to the flavor hit me--- it reminded me of a marshmallow toasted over a campfire--- and with that memory, the salad became delicious and yes, I’d order it again.

On Sunday, I imported 124 pictures onto the computer. So far, I’ve only edited 28. I’m happy with the outcome and the photos are posted on flickr.com in the groups tab under Third Annual Worldwide Photowalk- White River Junction, Vt. Here also are postings from other participants. It’s awesome to see the differences in what attracted each of us.

The entire experience was a delight. What fun for all kinds of photographers.

2010-07-24T08:53:00.000-04:00

AN INTEREST IN TRAINS
Early memories of trains are sketchy. There are vague memories of going to Newburyport to pick up an aunt who would come in on the train from Lynn. I don’t think passenger service went further than Newburyport back in the 60’s, although freight trains were fairly popular. My brother and I learned to count at railroad crossings when my parents asked us to count the cars of the passing train. There were crossings in East Kingston and it was easy to tell, because of the shape of a few buildings and their closeness to the tracks, that at one time, trains stopped here. There were crossings in Exeter and an abandoned train depot was next to the variety store we frequented as high school students. I never walked the tracks, nor did I ever go to a swimming hole where kids jumped from a bridge, although hearing them talk about it sounded exciting. I remember crossing tracks that seemed to go on forever either way when we went to the creek where my dad would dig clams and we’d go down river to fish.
Outside of those incidences, trains were a dull mystery to me. As I grew older, sighting became less frequent and once I was able to drive places myself, I noticed more empty tracks, places where tracks were removed, and building that were once stations falling to ruin. Still, it was years before my interest began to peak and I don’t know what set me off.
“It’s sad about the trains,” became a mantra that made my friends chuckle. Perhaps it was that a way of life was disappearing that matched a sadness in my soul. Maybe it was a growing awareness in the landscape around me. Whatever it was, my interest rose.
I don’t know why, but I fell in love with an old building near the Newfields-Newmarket line (I recently found out it was called Rockingham Station.) I stopped one time to take pictures which surprised me that I would want to photograph something so run-down and dilapidated. There was a deep inner unexplainable sorrow over this piece of history.
And so it went on. I continued the “It’s sad about the trains” statements, but never did any further research. I did, however, go on a couple of scenic train rides on the Conway train and once I took the family on the Cog Railway and a couple of trips out west showed me that other states have more active railroads many of which are massive, many tracked systems.
Recently my interest was again sparked with the chance to enter photographs for a show and now that I am doing more research, I am amazed at what the railroad system once meant to the state and industry. Yes, there is still sadness as the decline in industry meant the decline in rail use and people desiring individual transportation just about put an end to train travel in the state. However, there are active lines in NH, Maine, and Vermont. Amtrak re-opened the lines between Boston and Portland, I don’t think they ever stopped service along the Connecticut River, and there are a few scenic trains running.
I am now on a journey to photograph rails and stations mostly in NH but also across the border into Vermont. Mostly I am fascinated by areas no longer in use. The architecture of the old stations and depots are fascinating. Textures, patterns, and lines in wood, brick, or stone are intriguing. I am pleased to see the Rails to Trails programs touching a piece of history and allowing the public the opportunity to see the beauty of our state and some towns are actually fixing up old buildings to be used as businesses or museums.
The active stations and areas are also amazing. I am pleased to have the opportunity to photograph trains in motion and after the solitude and bit of sadness with abandoned sections, it’s refreshing to witness the activity around the in-use stations.
It’s a big project I am undertaking, but it is bringing me much joy.

2010-06-30T15:59:00.001-04:00

June 27, 2010
Searching for Concord Rails
I’d never been down on Commercial Street in Concord, but I’d seen the train tracks from Rte 393. As I needed some supplies at Staples, I figured to take the opportunity to take some photos. I was surprised to find there was more to this section of Concord than I originally thought. As I came down from the highway, I first went to where I could see lots of tracks. Nothing grabbed my attention, so I went the other way past the Courtyard Marriott.
I avoided the new-looking, fancy buildings although I wondered what these structures replaced. Taking a right, I explored the area along Horseshoe Pond. At an intersection was a sign saying, “Discovery Center.” What a minute. I always thought Fort Eddy Road was a dead end. Straight ahead, Commercial Street was a dead end. Hmmm.
I decided to see where that road ended as my goal was train tracks. The road narrowed as I passed through a residential section and on the right were tracks and then an interesting old wooden bridge. The tracks were built up and I was intrigued. The end of the road was Brochu Nursery.
Parking off to the side, I climbed the embankment to the rails. The track ran through the nursery on raised dike-like beds. Seemed funny but I guess it’s because of river flooding. I noticed a trestle in the distance and after taking a couple photos from this vantage point, I decided to ask permission to drive out to the trestle. The man gave his okay then added that over the weekend old trains from Tilton had come down for a show. That would have been interesting.
I drove to the end of the nursery but did not drive up to the trestle as I did not want my vehicle in the way. This was a lovely structure stretching across the Merrimac River. I took quite a few pictures but did not venture out onto the bridge as there were no trespassing signs… plus I didn’t dare.
Leaving the nursery, I decided to take the road towards the Discovery Center. I found that this way meandered through a college campus eventually connecting to Fort Eddy Road. I had learned something new about Concord while taking the opportunity to get some fabulous pictures. It was a happy day.

2010-06-30T14:51:00.000-04:00

June 27,2010
Railroad Tracks Near the Hannah Dustin Memorial

Once again I set off. I’d come across some old photos I’d taken at the Hannah Dustin Memorial Site four years ago and as my photography skills are improved and I now use digital, I wanted to take new pictures. The morning was foggy, just the way I like it. I didn’t want to go to Concord, then up 93/4, so I looked at Map Quest for an alternative route and that took me through Warner, up School Street to Pumpkin Hill Road and onto Warner Road, Rte 127 and finally Rte 4. It was nice to see different sights as I’d not been that way.
I made a pit stop at Dunkin Donuts in Boscawen and from there it wasn’t far to the memorial site. The fog had lifted by the time I reached the parking lot. Years back, Rte 4 had been built up to accommodate a better bridge crossing the Merrimac River. The older section was down an embankment. I was struck by the humidity as I got out of the truck. I grabbed the camera and started down the path between cow vetch, yellow hawkweed, and milkweed.. My senses were filled with a wonderful scent. There was an interesting row of cedar trees along the train tracks and a few yards further stood the monument.
I love that I can take lots of pictures and experiment with different angles. I looked up the track and down the track (though I really don’t know which way was which.) Sometimes I walked between the rails and when there was too much overgrowth, I walked a rock-filled path beside the tracks. My goal was the trestle bridge.
This is a beautiful area where the Contoocook River merges with the Merrimac. From the Contoocook came the sounds of rushing water as it tumbled over rocks, but the Merrimac side was very peaceful. Chipmunks and gray squirrels often ran in front of me along the rails or across them. Catbirds serenaded me and behind to the left, traffic on Rte 4 could be heard. A great blue heron searched the shoreline.
I took straight shots, angled shots, and sometimes I bent close to the ground. I studied the angles on the bridge and bolts on the rails. I took pictures of knot holes in the railroad ties and the pond lilies in the river below. A photograph of the old track switch crank was also taken.
The trestle bridge was bit scary to cross. I could see the waters far below between the planks. There wasn’t a railing and one slip or stumble could send me into the depths. I took my time and was extra careful of my footing.
Two tracks split off the main on the other side of the bridge. One disappeared into the overgrowth after a few yards and the other swung out to a blue building which, to me, didn’t look old. That and the fact there was trash around the grounds made me decide not to take pictures. The tracks however were fascinating. Here was another study in angles and curves.
Stories and questions ran through me and I envisioned providing text along with the pictures. I kept reminding myself that the picture must tell its own story. Still, I am always interested in more information.
By this point, I was hot and sticky. I tried to sit down on the rail to get a shot of an interesting tidbit on the ground and promptly fell over backwards. Oops. Good thing no one was around. I finished those pictures and stood up. It was time to head back.
I had taken some pictures of an old factory-type building across the way. I drove back a bit on Rte 4 until I found a road that went in that direction, then a side road that led directly past the old buildings. Perhaps this might have been part of the original Rte 4, but there were also remnants of train tracks going to the place. I stopped and took pictures of windows capturing reflections, caved in sections of the structures, doors, and smoke stacks. Part of this might have been an old tannery. Did I read something about that?
Looking back, I wish I had dared walk around the building to explore further the old rails.
I took side streets heading towards Concord and found myself on the front side of that blue building. Oh, nice. This side looked cleaner than the back side, so I took a picture before heading onward to my next adventure.

2010-06-27T13:22:00.003-04:00

I was going through old photo albums today and in looking at the pictures taken back then with 35mm compared to what I do now with digital and the ability to edit my own pictures, I am amazed at how my photography has changed. Oh, I still take a lot of the same kinds of pictures, but I see angles, lines, and textures in a different way. I am more aware of the composition of the picture and I'm not just shooting a scene. I look at the subject from multiple positions.

These past couple of weeks, I've been experimenting with color curves. I still want my pictures to look real; like it was when I first saw the scene, however I've noticed sometimes that in the printing, the colors are not as vibrant. Now I am able to bring that brilliance onto the cards and paper.

I like being more in control of the outcome. It's nice that I can make the choice in how the picture evolves.

2010-04-13T09:32:00.000-04:00

I LOVE TAKING PICTURES AND ENJOY SHARING WHAT I FIND
I’ve been very busy trying to build an inventory for this summer’s art show. The items that sell the best are my notecards. I enjoy doing these; nothing fancy, just a photograph printed on the front of the matte card and a little blurb on the back with information about the picture or about the photography. I crop a lot of my pictures to get close (someday I’d love to buy one of those expensive zoom lenses to get better close-ups of wildlife.) However, in cropping, I often cannot print a larger picture. Still, the notecard will show the delicacy of wings, the deep pool of eyes, or the intricacy of a flower petal.
I’m also doing a greeting card that is a little bigger than the notecards. These are “framed cards” in which a 4x6 glossy photo is inserted. With these, I have to decide between a black or white framed card. Either color adds something to the picture. I put an information label on the backs of these.
There are 5x7 prints, too, mounted and matted as 8x10s. I never know whether to advertise these as 5x7 for the photo size or 8x10 for the frame that would be needed. Occasionally, I’ll do an 8x10 print mounted and matted to fit an 11x14 frame. Again, I put an About the Picture label on the back.
My biggest items are charcoal landscape drawings. These are of a variety of sizes depending on how I cut the paper, but I am finding that my favorite size is under 11x14. These are almost always matted in black with a thin black frame. I like to keep the frame simple so the focus will be on the drawing.
I take pictures of a variety of subjects. It’s hard to say what are the favorites. Old barns are special as I am drawn to the textures in the wood, how it has weathered and decayed. Windows are intriguing because of reflections, distortion in the glass, or missing panes. I like getting angles on doors depending on light and shadow. Flowers are extremely fascinating because of the vibrancy of color and when I can crop close to see tiny details, I am amazed. I’d never looked so close to a flower. Wildlife, birds, pets… so much to see; cute faces, beady eyes, feathers, paws and claws, etc. I also like old, rusty bits and pieces, things that I find on the ground, foggy scenes… basically anything in nature.
I’m not into “posed” photography though I like taking pictures of people, too. The character of a person’s face is beautiful and I especially like to photograph older people. I don’t want someone “smiling for the camera” or even looking at the camera and I won’t keep a picture of someone if it isn’t a good picture. Of course, I enjoy the grandchildren the best. A couple of them are naturals when it comes to having their picture taken. The moment I pick up the camera, they immediately go into a pose. That’s fun. They’re fun.
I love what I do and I never leave home without my camera. I’ll stop often to photograph old abandoned buildings, wildlife, or flowers. Every day is an adventure because I never know what I’m going to find. Life is good!

2010-03-27T07:26:00.000-04:00

PHOTOGRAPHS IN BLACK AND WHITE

The Hillsborough Area Artisans are hosting a black and white show/contest within the group whose work will be on display at the Gallery at Well Sweep in June. I offered to take pictures of some art work. Janett creates unusual designs in fiber art and she crocheted a beautiful black shawl with white trim and flowers. However, when I downloaded the pictures onto my computer, I found the white flowers came out without any detail.

This reminded me that I have trouble with any pictures of white flowers. Lilies of the valley and the double white lilacs in my yard are not shown in my albums because I am not happy with any photo that I take of them. The pictures end up looking overexposed.

With the purchase of a new computer, my old editing program would not work with Windows 7 and in my research, I found a better one and it was free. PhotoScape. This is a great program and it’s easy to use. One of my favorite features is the back light button and I thought this might be the answer to my white flower problem. It’s not. Back lighting causes the white to turn yellow or brown-ish and adjusting light and contrast further removes detail.

I don’t use an external flash. I seldom use the built-in flash as I try to keep things in natural light and even when I plan a shoot, I still operate on an in-the-moment mode. Most of the time, this works and I am pleased with the results. However, this photographing of white objects is a concern. Perhaps it’s the case of using an external flash—I don’t know.

Any suggestions to photographing white flowers will be appreciated. Thank-you.

2010-03-07T07:36:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I received a phone call from my dentist’s receptionist. “Bonnie is gone.” What? I was in shock and the more Darlene spoke, the more tears fell. Bonnie and I had a lot in common; single post- menopausal women, musicians (she played cello and I, Native American flute,) and artists (she did water colors and I, charcoal landscape drawing, poetry, and photography.) I loved our twice a year conversations and now there is an empty place in my heart.

“We have to clean our garages,” Darlene said that Bonnie told her two days before, “because if something happens to us, ‘they’ will bring in a dumpster. Two days after Bonnie’s passing, a big dumpster was in the yard.”

I’ve often thought this very thing as my family hasn’t always been interested in my work and art. I know that much of the stuff that brings me such joy will be trash to others. The years of my life, the heartaches and joys and accomplishments recorded on the pages of my journals will not hold anyone else’s attention. Some of my “unusual” art pieces won’t be of any use. The “someday” project bits lying in wait will certainly make it into a dumpster or burn pile. Books, works in progress, and supplies will also be tossed.

I don’t want to push my beliefs and passions onto those unwilling to enjoy this part of the journey. I can accept that family does not share my interests. They are busy with their own and that’s okay. There are those out there who have bought books or pictures and those who like reading my poems and articles. I always figured that if one person gets something out of one of my pictures or if I touch the heart of another, then I have done my job.

This does not mean that I am giving up. I love what I do and the joy bubbles over. I am excited about my endeavors and every day is an adventure. I experiment with mediums. I explore ways to share my findings. This is Passion, and the drive makes me dance (at least on the inside.) I will continue to do my work with the realization that most of it will probably disappear in time. I will keep on taking pictures and drawing. I’ll write poetry and let my emotions carry my fingers across the keyboard. I’ll play my flutes and watch the birds. My heart is full of joy.