October 9, 2023 Cove Park Residency

Prior to arriving this afternoon at Cove Park. I flew lnto Glasgow Sunday morning then made my way to Helensburgh for my first night. Rather eventful - some trains cancelled due to one of their worst floods in years. My travel experience was a variation of the movie-Planes, trains and automobiles, with a few buses. As I rolled my huge suitcase up and down streets, everyone was so willing to help me find the train derailment” buses. Nice people over here,

Cove Park is located on an outstanding site overlooking Loch Long and the Firth of Clyde, just one hour east of Glasgow, on Scotland’s west coast.Founded in 1999 by Peter and Eileen Jacobs, it is a charity funded by Creative Scotland, by trusts and foundations and by the generosity of individuals. Since 2000, Cove Park has hosted over 1,500 artists. The facilities are wonderful - individual accommodations to a large community building with seating, library and a kitchen. ( and washer and dryers!

I am in company of talented artists from Scotland, England and New Zealand -a dancer, two sound artists, a curator and a writer. And yes, I could be their mother, grandmother?

View from deck at Jacobs Building. (My room and studio are attached to this building)

As far as my intention for the next three weeks -who knows? I was painting more when this opportunity was originally scheduled (Fall of 2020). I plan on exploring/sketching the landscape this first week and then build on any ideas that surface. I brought paper, paints and my writing journal. We will see,

I do hope by being here - around all these inventive folks - my imagery will shift. I really don’t have a lot of choice - there are no rocks.

My studio

I spent the afternoown walking the area, sketching and picking up dried flowers along the way. When I returned, I stuck one in a pile of rocks that had been left by the last artist. The sun broke through the clouds and created this shadow on the wall - an amazing study of line.

And that soft orange against the dark triangle. Ooh la-la! I feel I am off to a good start.

October 10

First full day here and I missed the salmon man. His truck came at 8am and I fell back to sleep after I turned off my alarm. My time clock is still adjusting. The rain looked like it would hold off until the afternoon so I grabbed my sketchbook and walked the lumber/ridge road over to a village on the other side of the peninsula. Four miles of pine, hemlocks and blue spruce which looks similar to our Fraser fir ( not native here). I felt like I was walking in a large Christmas tree farm.

The last half mile turned into foggy fairyland - very misty with moss covered trees, ferns and streams. I stopped and sketched a bit . I plan on spending more time pondering these trees when I get back this afternoon.

Noticed this little reindeer hiding

As I settle in on this first day, here are some images of my surroundings. The facility is lovely. I am staying next to center - a short walk to community room, library and large kitchen. In the evening, some are making dinner, others on their lap tops, reading or chatting quietly on their phones. The cubes were most people are staying don’t have internet. I am lucky to be near the main building - I have service in my room.

The last two nights I have made a mushroom and cheese omelette in my room. Here are some pictures to give you an idea of my living situation. Below is the main building- red arrow points at the door to my room and studio.

And a picture of my room, little kitchen in the corner and my omelette!

I will start tomorrow with thoughts for imagery. As I stated earlier- my intention is to ponder the line but with all these trees,…lots of mass not line - I may have to rethink this!

October 11

I was thinking last night that maybe I would just get some chocolates and read romance novels for my three weeks-treat it like a holiday- as they say here. I had worked on some tree drawings to the soundtrack of The Andy Warhol Diaries. The music was great; the drawings went in the trash. I did better work in high school. So this morning when I opened the curtain, I was delighted to see this out my window:

You have to be excited to take on the day with this greeting! I packed my pencils and sketchbook and headed out on the lower road for a four mile walk to the village of Kilgreggan. My yearning for the edge of the sea was tempered by green fields, a bright sun and playful gusts of wind, It was a lovely day. Spent my time doing little thumbnail sketches, chatting with local folks and enjoying lunch at the local cafe. I am on a learning curve about the bus schedule. I chased down two buses to get back home. They run on the hour so i was lucky they stopped.

I am hoping these little visual notes will give me “food for thought” when I pull out my paints. For now, I will keep roaming the landscape in search of interesting lines and shape.I told myself I would sketch until the weekend,

I will leave you now with my first sunset out the window, Looks like the rain has left us for a few days.

October 12

Spent some time this morning at the Peaton Hill Conservation Reserve - just up the hill from Cove Park. A nice young man at the Cafe in the village told me to “sit and watch” the birds when I visited. As I meandered through a wooded trail, I found a dozen feeders swinging in the trees.

My Merlin app recorded Clark Nutcrackers…seems appropriate! Look closely to see the feeders! (I tried to send a video but I don’t have that skill set) There’s a sweet bench for enjoying the birds.

OK, so on the way to check my spelling of meander, I came across this curious word below. My computer knows I am in the UK. You have to love this.

In the early afternoon, with sketchbook in hand, I took off on the village road again in search of imagery. After several attempts, I just stood in the road and declared It’s way to bucolic here! The countryside is absolutely beautiful but I can’t find the an edge - ”visually or spiritually.” The landscape feels too formal. In Ireland, the land mourns and the flirting wind whistles when it blows through you. I feel more at home with a little uneasiness.

Before I came over the pond, I was “What’s apping” with Frankie, our driver on the recent trip to County Mayo. He wrote Enjoy Scotland but not too much. Ireland is your country. Enough said.

I turned around and headed back to the center.

While waiting for my grocery delivery, a British nuclear submarine moved through the water below us. The Faslane Naval Base is located here in the Argyll and Bute. (Argyll and Bute is bounded by the urban areas of Helensburgh and Dunoon along the Clyde, Loch Lomond to the East,)The Faslane Peace Camp, a permanent peace camp is sited alongside the Base and has been occupied continuously, in a few different locations, since 12 June 1982.

It’s a reminder to me that not everything is bucolic around here.

Last night, some art ideas starting percolating. I will fill you in tomorrow.

October 13

Here’s how I start every morning.Muesli or oatmeal, tea and computer typing a conversation with you. It’s a lovely way to start the day! ( of course, after I have done Wordle, read Heather Cox Richardson and Joyce Vance to catch me up on the news. (And about those rainbows - I see one every morning so luck is definitely with me)

I have been doing some pondering about what artist I want to carry in my “back pocket’ as I wander the landscape. Frank Auerbach is my muse. Born in Berlin of Jewish parents, Auerbach he was sent to England in 1939 to escape Nazism. He was eight years old when he arrived at a progressive boarding school, Bunce Court, a school for Jewish refugee children. His parents, who remained behind, died in concentration camps.He is one of the leading names in the School of London, with fellow artists Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud. The School of London was interested in figurative painting in contrast to abstraction, minimalism, and conceptualism which were dominant at the time.

Auerbach once used as an analogy a phrase by Robert Frost about his own verse:

"I want the poem to be like ice on a stove – riding on its own melting.” Well, a great painting is like ice on a stove. It is a shape riding on its own melting into matter and space; it never stops moving backwards and forwards.

Now 92 years old, he lives and works in London and has had the same studio since the 1950s.

Although best known for haunting figurative work, I am looking at his landscapes. His active line/stroke is emotional and immediate.His mark making develops over time; with brushes, palette knives, and sometimes paint squeezed directly from the tube. I read that he scraps off 95% of the paint on each surface, constantly striving for the the perfect moment. Sometimes he works years on one painting.

Link to Auerbach: https://www.google.com/search?gs_ssp=eJzj4tTP1TcwNIuvKDdg9OJLK0rMy1ZILE0tSkpMzgAAb-UIug&q=frank+auerbach&oq=frank&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqCQgBEC4YJxiKBTILCAAQRRgnGDsYigUyCQgBEC4YJxiKBTIGCAIQRRg5MgYIAxBFGEAyBggEEEUYOzIGCAUQRRg8MgYIBhBFGDwyBggHEEUYPNIBCDMxNDNqMWo3qAIAsAIA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

I am glad to know I am in good company with all that scraping. I started a painting of rocks, just for the heck of it and ended up scraping it off. In the process, I noticed a figure emerging. I call this Man with Blue Cap in Red Recliner. He hangs in the studio with me. Now I am not drinking alone.

October 14

It’s starting to feel like ground hog day - but in a good way. Walked back the village, sketching and stopping at the local pub for a Guinness. It was good to be around the chatter of families, dogs men at the bar.

Here at the Center it is very quiet. I am assuming these fellow artists are Gen Zs or Millennials as they sit pugged into their electronics, working. On Friday night, the Center invited us to a happy hour. It was a delight to learn more about their interests ranging from teaching school kids about UK Black classical composers, promoting the Queer Asian community in Glasgow through food and choreographing a dance piece around Isaeli heritage (that one has gotten for complicated this week). They are all engaged in the world, doing important work. I particularly like how it is making me re-think why I paint and what’s my contribution.

Which leads me to acknowledge Nobel-winning poet Louise Gluck who died on Friday. From The Guardian:

Glück’s poems face truths that most people, most poets, deny: the way old age comes for us if we’re lucky; the way we make promises we cannot keep; the way disappointment infiltrates even the most fortunate of adult timelines. She’s not a poet you read to cheer yourself up. She is, however, a poet of wisdom. And her declarations, her decisions, her conclusions, build and displace one another as the poems go on: even the sharpest claims require their poetic frames and contrasts……… We can say, though, that Glück’s plain lines and wide views address experience common to many: feeling neglected, feeling too young or too old, and – sometimes – loving the life we find.

A year ago - this week - I walked into The Red Wheelbarrow bookstore near Luxembourg Gardens in Paris and bought one of her books. She is my go-to-poet. She paints with words.

So my lucky life goes on here as the weather continues to flirt with me. I am going to put Louise Gluck in my back pocket with Frank Auerbach. I am in good company.

October 15

So it’s Sunday…..

My poem, “Toad” honors my neighbor who sleeps (during the day) in the pea gravel walkway near our front door.

Louise (pup) and I take long walks in a wildlife refuge near our home, We came upon a downed deer in a field last winter. My poem “Winter Cornfields” is my observation of the moment.

I started playing around with words during Covid. Trying my hand at poetry seemed a more natural way to spend my time than painting. Same objective - learning to see and deeply appreciate the nuances around us Like any creative process, it gives you a chance to see beyond yourself.

October 16

I arrived a week ago. Three artists have left, four arrived today. We now have a classical pianist, a music producer, a folk musician and a sound artist to add to our band. And they all brought instruments. The Center hosted a happy hour that rolled into two. Good conversation all around - everyone is gracious and curious, And, as with the all the artists I have met, their commitment to their craft is admirable.

So this past week - I have been up and down hills with a sketchbook, struggling to find that love affair with the countryside. Really, it’s not about the landscape - it’s how the paint moves within it’s own landscape. Why do I keep forgetting that??

One of the most difficult things of all is not to have a painting be a depiction of the event but the event itself.

• Grace Hartigan, American Abstract Expressionist painter, member of The New York School

I have stood in my studio, painted some so-so oil studies of rolling hills and found myself bored with the work and myself. I am rather delighted. It means I am looking to move beyond the familiar. And funny, I have come back to my original intention. That darn “line” inquiry.

I am in love with the drawing on this book cover. I bought this book several months ago and I stare at it constantly. I am a big fan of Philip Guston’s work and was intrigued that he did drawings for his friends’ poetry books. ( Guston was also member of The New York School -a group of experimental painters and a circle of associated poets who lived and worked in downtown Manhattan in the 1950s and 60s.)

Guston Link:https://www.google.com/search?gs_ssp=eJzj4tTP1TcwLc6NTzFg9OItyMjMySxQSC8tLsnPAwBrrwi1&q=philip+guston&oq=Philip&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqCQgBEC4YJxiKBTIMCAAQIxgnGOMCGIoFMgkIARAuGCcYigUyBggCEEUYQDIGCAMQRRg5MgYIBBBFGDsyCQgFEC4YQxiKBTIGCAYQRRg8MgYIBxBFGDzSAQg4MzY0ajBqN6gCALACAA&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

Guston referred to these drawings as “poem-pictures.” I am rather embarrassed that I am too dumbstruck to describe the feeling these few lines give me. It’s like I have a crush on this drawing. The brushwork is fluid - loose and easy - yet there is tension in how it sits on the page. It’s not easy to make a line sing like he does.

So coming full circle, I am back to last week - on my first day - when I told the group I wanted to have a better understanding of how to make a powerful line like Philip Guston. I guess he has been in my back pocket all along too. And there’s still Frank Auerbach with his gutsy marks to channel. Geez, how can I resist anymore?

Enough BlahBlahBlah. Here are a few pictures from an early. morning walk. The Center shares the hillside with Highland cows and sheep. Enjoy your day.

October 17

Today was designated a fun day. (not that everyday hasn’t been fun) One of my goals for this residency is to learn how to “play” more in the studio. I totally get it intellectually, but, in practice, I am not so great at it. Early on, it dawned on me that being in the gallery business affected my “merrymaking.” I was always moving towards the framed image(s) on the wall. A dangerous place to be for inventiveness. I have to admit that “presentation” remains important to me. I am more interested in setting the table than preparing the meal.

So, PLAY was the name of the day. I cranked up Talking Heads, Stop Making Sense (live) on Spotify. My morning project was to channel Frank Auerbach and his figurative work.. Since I had no sitter, I used my face. It was a reckoning to stare at myself on the computer screen but Auerbach felt you have paint over and over to get to the soul of your sitter - sometimes he scraped off 100 layers striving to get it right.

For sure - I am not a figure painter much less, an expert in anatomy and I am not going to be here for months so I let the lines in my face lead me. Frank Auerbach is a genius in making painting an “event”. Take a moment to look at his work - hauntingly beautiful. And me……

Scary, but here you go:

I know,… you think I am sexy,,,you want to date me, Seriously, I have always thought I had George Washington’s profile, hence my cut-out wig. Ok So I took a left turn here about the exercise but interesting to see that white shape against the painted surface. I will keep working on the painting and working on not making sense.

A little sidebar- from Nicholas Wroe’s review of Frank Auerbach in the Guardian (2015)
He has very few memories of his childhood before coming to the UK but does recall being given a colouring book and some watercolours when he was three or four and “the feeling of the wet brush going into the colour, and then on to the page”.

Do you have a creative memory?

October 18

Decided to change how I looked at the landscape while walking - to think more about air than land.

The earth loved the air. - Edvard Munch

I picked up some markers in the village so I could work on some color as well. I crammed my kiddie markers in my pocket and off I went. (The wind is always blowing here so you have to work fast - no putting your sketchbook on the ground to ponder your next mark.)

The trick is to make “color notes” not a “coloring book.” I haven’t figured that out yet but the thrill of keeping your mind free - like the wind - is moving me in a better direction.

I hope I can take this “new skip in my step ” or should I say “wind in my hair” into the studio. My studies last week look so labored - which is never my goal.

I always strive for immediacy.

October 19

I have been pondering the word “immediacy” ever since I wrote it down yesterday:

the quality of bringing one into direct and instant involvement with something, giving rise to a sense of excitement.

To strive for such a feeling requires a strong understanding the “structure” of formal painting-color, form, line, shape, space, texture, and value. My scaffolding is weak.

This residency was postponed from May of 2020 (Covid) and it is clear I have not been exercising my “painting muscle”. The last painting on panel (right) was completed in June, 2022. Instead, I have been playing with poems.

So today, while the wind howled and the rain poured down, I stayed in my studio and worked on small landscape studies to strengthen that muscle.

This one ( right) was the only one that came close to my goal. It’s not even close to the sketch but has some of the energy I am looking for in my work. . I think the wind outside was playing with me.

Listened to Steve Riech Radio on Spotify. ________________________________

Went to Glasgow on Wednesday for a little change in the scenery and to take in museums/galleries. I didn’t see anything that rocked my boat except the entrance door to Edinburgh Gin. I did met some lovely folks along the way. I always do.

-the lady in the post office at the village married a man from Georgia who she met on-line. He lives there in Kilcreggen with her.

-the young mother with her four month old on their way to baby massage class. ?? I love it.

-a young man with the British Navy who marched in the King’s coronation.

I was ready to come back to my cocoon.

NHOTB & RAD exhibition at GOMA by Glasgow-based artists John Beagles and Graham Ramsey.

Off County Mayo, Ireland, oil on panel, 20 x 20 inches

Statue outside GOMA - the Glasgow Museum of Modern Art

Entrance door to Edinburgh Gin. Best use for plastic flowers - check out the door handles.

October 20

“I turn sentences around. That’s my life.Then I look at it and turn it around again. Then I have lunch. Then I come back in and write another sentence. then I have tea and turn the new sentence around. Then I read the two sentences together and turn them both around. Then I lie down on my sofa and think. Then I get up and throw them out and start from the beginning. And if I knock off from this routine for as long as a day, I’m frantic with boredom and a sense of waste”. Philip Roth, The Ghost Writer

So goes my residency here at Cove Park - just change the word “sentence” to “painting” ( although I am turning a few “sentences” around for a new poem ). Life is grand.

It rained most of the day.

In the morning through lunch, I worked on some “line” ideas - still exploring.

Early evening , I found a new subject matter right in front of me - my clothes rack, full of jackets of sorts. I did a few sketches and pulled out my oil sticks. I love the initial mark making - moving around lines and color. How to keep the spontaneity as I continue layering - that’s where I need to develop some savvy.

The painting and I are just getting acquainted - we will see where we go.

Tomorrow I am going The Hill House in Helensburgh. Restored mansion and bespoke interiors designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh, with formal gardens.

Knocking off from this routine - I will see if I get frantic with boredom and find it a waste of my time. I doubt it.

October 21

The last thing on my mind today was boredom. The Hill House is stunning. I encourage you to copy and paste this link: https://www.nts.org.uk/visit/places/the-hill-house I admit that I have never been a big fan of Art Nouveau but seeing its application in a home setting changed my mind. Look at this wallpaper:

The house was built in 1902-3 by Charles Rennie Mackintosh in collaboration with his artist/wife, Margaret McDonald Mackintoch. It was commissioned by the Glasgow publisher Walter Blackie. The family lived in it for a half century. It was like living in a work of art.

You probably noticed the wall dampness on the lower half of the picture. The building is crumbling. Five years ago, a chainmail mess box was built around the house to try to protect it from the environment. I understand from a tour guide that the moisture content had already decreased by 80%. The box adds another design element to the viewing experience as well as allows visitors to walk about the building. I am standing on the second floor walkway (below). I think it’s brilliant.

OK - now change your visual mind. We are going from elegance to entertaining. On the way back, I got off the bus in Kilcreggen. I wanted to check out the vintage store one more time. I found a funky coat and this - a wool hot water bottle cover from the 50s. Isn’t this adorable?

So am I the only one who doesn’t know the joy of a hot water bottle at the foot of your bed? Everyone uses them over here. The closest experience to this delight is when Louise (pup) moves to the other side of the bed and I put my toes in the warm spot she leaves behind, I am getting one when I get home. And, of course, I have to mention that it reminds me of Philip Guston’s small paintings of household items. Maybe you will look them up. (I am still afraid the Copyright Art Police will get me if I copy a work on to my blog. (I wish I wasn’t such a rule follower)

OK one last image from a postcard: Tut-Tut is right on the shore here in this village. (below) The website says:

RATHER PROSAICALLY CALLED “THE PAINTED Rock” when first created in 1851, this piece of Victorian rock art is painted upon a boulder cast high on the shoreline by the retreat of a glacier during the last Ice Age.

The rock’s look has varied throughout the years, often to reflect historical events. Despite having no connection to Egypt, the rock gained its current name, Tut-Tut, in 1922 following Howard Carter’s discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb and the King Tut mania that followed. During World War II, a V for Victory was incorporated to boost morale in the local community. I just love this stuff! Great day.

October 22

Ok. let’s get on with the “line” business. (Just a reminder that exploring LINE was my intention for this residency.) Oh, how I wander.

My first afternoon here, I walked past these tree shelters on the hill next to the main building. I loved how they interacted with the landscape. They seem so musical and it some ways, like dance. I thought to myself: if I was a sculptor I would try to figure something to do with these. Then I skipped on down the road.

Then I started taking pictures of them. Then I sketched them in the landscape. I was still not sure what to do with the imagery. I started doing more abstract responses. I have lots of these in my sketchbook. (below)

I changed my Spotify from Talking Heads to Haruomi Hosono, gessoed some oil paper and experimented by using, in order (top to bottom): collage using Who Gives A Crap toilet paper wrapping, paint with brush, black marker, pencil, charcoal pencil, ink drawn with a stick and the last one - hard to see - I drew into the wet paint.

The pencil marks seems to have the most “grace.” (below) There are so many nuances at play here - the weight of the line, the relationship of the lines to each other, how the lines “rest” on the page, the size and the background color. I do like how the hard plastic tubing around the trees have made their way to a more meditative state.

Finding the right “harmony” could become a life project. I will keep pondering, wandering.

As I sit here typing, outside my window - two daisies are looking at me - first time I have noticed them. I am taking it as a sign that Nature is saying - We are looking at you. Glad you are slowing down enough to notice us.

October 23

You know it is going to happen

because it always happens,

you just forget.

Every time I have a residency - about two weeks in - I cross over on the other side. I quit behaving like myself. (You probably have had the same experience on extended travel.)

All my blah blah about not being able to relate to these rolling hills. I love how nature just sits and waits until you are ready to accept a hug.

This morning, I found myself with sketchbook in hand, just standing - in the middle of the farm road - really listening to a Highland cow chew grass. It was so satisfying. It was so much more than the sound of pulling grass It had the breath of a beast.

_______________________________________________________

Looking at “line” in the the landscape, I have always felt that sketching - or painting for that matter - is like bowling. The first game, man, you deserve a boiling shirt with your name emblazoned on the back. And then, gutter ball, gutter ball, gutter ball.

My little sketches below are busy, busy, busy.

Years ago - at a Stuart Shils workshop - he said paint sound, not noise. I wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck it on my wall in my studio. It’s still there and I am still a chatterbox.

The simplicity of this sketch feels better. It was one of my first ones. See?..…BOWLING. I am going to put the kiddie markers back in the box. Maybe ditch the marker, it’s rather loud.

The pencil marks are definitely softer.

One of the joys of sketching outside is meeting people. You learn so much about the local flavor of folks. I marvel at how strangers reveal themselves - such honesty in heartfelt conversations. This lovely woman was out walking her “healing” horse. She talked about how her dad was going to buy her a pony but he died when she was nine, It didn’t happen. At forty, she finally got her horse and now has a farm down the road with several horses. Her girls are growing up on the back of a horse.

PS Those daisies have moved towards the sun today. I remain convinced they were sending me a message

October 24

Time for the Frank Auerbach Portrait Slam. I ran out of white paint.

To recap, I “channeled” Frank Auerbach’s approach to “portrait” painting. He would search for the “soul” of his subject and would scrap it off and start over a hundred times in order to get it right - his words.

The paint is scrapped off in my last self portrait.

I really enjoyed this exercise. Releasing any notion of “likeness,” I was able to explore the painted surface without limitations. And to remind myself - it’s about the paint not the subject. Ending with this quote by David Park. He was an American painter and a pioneer of the Bay Area Figurative Movement in painting during the 1950s.

Art ought to be a troublesone thing - and one of the many reasons for painting representationally is that this makes for much more troublesome pictures.

October 25

Can you possibly look at more sketches? I went for a late walk yesterday - the moon was already up over the hill. The low light brought out wonderful contrasts of color. I have found my favorite sketching spot right outside my door. After tromping all over the hills, isn’t that the way it always goes?

So - one thing I know that I also forget - paint from your memory not photographs. Photographs don’t tell the truth, memory does. For me, sketching is vital to imprint the memory.

I could certainly never mirror nature. I would like more to paint what it leaves with me,

Joan Mitchell, American artist associated with the American abstract expressionist movement, even though she lived in France for most of her career

Below is the sketch and the painting in response to the sketch and my memory. I am hoping to paint what it leaves with me too.

I have been having some great conversations of late. Yesterday, Thom, the grounds keeper, returned from six week maternity leave and stopped by to bring me a WI-FI booster. We started talking art. He is a sculptor and printmaker. (He is responsible for the tree savers out on the green hill - my line project). We hovered over the computer and looked at artists who influence each of us. He is into “line” too.

In the afternoon, my pal, Kate Young and I decided to wear our new coats from the vintage shore in the village and treat ourselves to lunch at the Knockderry Hotel near Cove Park. She is a folk musician and has just returned from two years in The Netherlands with a degree in Scenography. ( Her album on Spotify - Kate in the Kettle) She is completely adorable and great company, She recorded me saying Peaky BLIIIIINDERS in my southern drawl to show her friends.

Wednesday , I rode the train to Oban. Walked the town and ate delicious fish and chips with a pint in a small restaurant of five tables. A woman from Canada on my left, a couple from a nearby island on my right and a mom/daughter team across the way. My beer was served in the most beautiful pint glass which wasn’t for sale. Darn it. (I collect pint glasses then when I travel) The lovely Polish waitress said “I will close my eyes if you want it.” Everyone was cheering me on to put in my my pack. Of course I couldn’t steal it. A little later, she walked by with a glass wrapped in napkins and put it on my lap. Perfect day.

View from train ride to Oban

Kate Young and Christie Old

October 26

Philip Guston’s friend, musician Morton Feldman observed that painting was like touching keys on a piano: You can strike softly and go long or strike sharply and go quick (Jackson Pollack and Willem DeKooning were quick; Philip Guston and Mark Rothko were long)

An American composer, Morton Feldman was a major figure in 20th-century classical music, He was a pioneer of indeterminate music, a development associated with the experimental New York School of composers including John Cage.

I banged around on the piano a good part of the day. I am definitely a “ strike sharply and quick” painter,

The top one feels resolved. The 2nd and 3rd ones are what we call “starts” - your first encounter with the paint and the surface. Talk about noise over sound - these are screaming.like babies. I will toned them down when I have more colors in my tool box and more time to ponder. Just more exercises in sketching, memory and painting, (I figured those “tree savers” would eventually creep into a painting.

(note:sketches are 6 x 7 inches -ish; paintings on paper are 15 x 15 inches -ish)

Alexia, the Director here at Cove Park is stopping by tomorrow afternoon to take a peek in my studio Of course, arranging the work on the wall is always enjoyable - the fun part of owning a gallery. I found it hard to refrain from typing labels.

One last note for the day. Rona, a member of the staff has been so helpful to me. (She suggested I ride the train to Oban for the day and take a bottle of Prosecco with me - my kind of gal)

During one of our happy hours, I mentioned I was in search for a pint glass. This afternoon she brought me this pint glass below - from a local beer festival. Although I have one with a nice party dress, this one means so much more since it’s from this area. — and a gift from her.

October 27

Paints are packed. Artwork is off the wall. The studio is calm and quiet. No more talking heads.

I arrived wide-eyed and leave satisfied.

I look two walks today with sketchbook in hand - in search of one more composition. October’s chill has intensified the colors - richer than when I arrived three weeks ago - ochres and red rusts dotted with with dark green gorse. It’s lovely.

The best way to sum up this residency is through images . Below are two sketches - my first and my last. Do I need to say more?

I am also leaving with many gifts:

The generosity of the Cove Park staff, fellowship with young creative artists/ thinkers; the kindness of the Scottish people; memories of walking this beautiful countryside; a hot water bottle and two pint glasses.

I would like to give a shout out to my Blundstone boots for getting me over the hills and through mud puddles; the BT internet for always being there (at home, I have to stand on my head and blink three times to get reception); artists Frank Auerbach and Philip Guston for their guidance and The Sprock Foundation for funding my residency. (I don’t know much about Trust babies but I am delighted to be a Boyfriend baby)

And you - for being my companion on this adventure. Thank you.

Evening walk back to Cove Park.