North to Newfoundland

Black Duck Creek / 18x18 on cradled board I AM HEADING HOME. Heading south, toward Channel Port-Aux-Basques, toward the ferry, toward Nova Scotia, Maine, then eventually Wachapreague. I am loving Newfoundland but honestly, I can't wait to get home. Can't wait to see Peter and the dogs, and all my friends, and family on the way - can't wait!                                                                                                  This is an interesting trip on many levels. It is great to have Carol with me for the first week, but when she leaves, I find myself feeling rudderless. The pattern of the trip changes. Partly it changes because I'm alone, and partly because of where I am.  Every morning of the trip, Carol and I st...

Guimet / 10x10 DOWN THE ROAD from L'Anse Aux Meadows is a whole collection of teeny little towns that apparently live generally on tourism and specifically on Viking tourism - with a little fishing thrown in.  The proliferation of Viking-related stuff is overwhelming. It's so relentless that, over the course of an afternoon paying attention, it becomes ridiculous. Snorri Cabins? Val Halla Hotel? I shake my head at how the incredible fact of the Vikings landing in L'Anse Aux Meadows has become co-opted to sell everything from coffee to delivery services.  I make this painting standing beside a closed and shuttered restaurant. The town of Guimet seems to be sheltered a bit from the relentless wind - but is full of Viking adverts.  *** Dog of the Day MET THIS GUY  at a show this summer. I'm not seeing the dogs I usually find on my travels! Maybe Newfoundlanders don't have so many dogs? Many of the people I meet ...

L'Anse Aux Meadows / 16x16 IT IS HARD for me to describe the feelings I have while I am walking around this most historic of historic sites. I don't cry, but I almost do, and I am astounded at the emotion that overtakes me.  Here, in these fields, in this place at the edge of the sea, Europeans set foot on North America for the very first time. The Vikings - with Leif Erikson probably among them - left Greenland and sailed into the wilderness, crossing the ocean in small, small boats and landed at L'Anse Aux Meadows.  To them, it was the new world. They built a village there, housing anywhere from 30-160 people. There were trees on the land at that time, and they used the wood to build boats, their homes, furniture. Their houses were sod huts - the earthen roofs are gone but the foundations remain, and that's what you see when your tour the area.  In 1960, explorer Helge Ingstad and his wife, archaeologist Anne Stine Ingstad, spoke with Georg...

Rocky Creek, 10x10 AFTER A DAY of driving - with a couple false starts for good measure - where is a navigator when you need one??? - I end up in Cormack, at the edge of Gros Morne National Park. My plan is to head to L'Anse Aux Meadows, on the far northern tip of Newfoundland, and then paint my way south from there. Though I am tired, and weary, and a little bummed out by having a series of ideas that didn't work, I feel I really need to make a painting. And behind the hotel where I am staying, I find two Adirondack chairs overlooking this rocky curve in the river. I love the abstractness of this piece, and the way the light hits the left-hand side of the canvas. I have fun painting it, and it rebalances me, sets me right for the adventure to come.  *** Mural Capital of Newfoundland THE TOWN OF BOTWOOD had already earned its place in history before it became the Mural Capital of Newfoundland.  In the early 20th century, it was a transporta...

Cliffs I, 10x10 I KNEW WHEN I LEFT Wachapreague that wind was likely to be a problem here in Newfoundland. I just hadn't realized how much of a problem it might be. My second day painting in the Bonavista area, there is no fog, but the wind is mighty. An easel would be useless, so I open the side door of the van and station myself there, sitting on the van floor, the canvas inside. Even at this, it is hard to paint. The wind blows the canvas, blows my arm, blows the little knife, shakes the very van. It's hard to stand up, even! Woody, our smallest dog, would have blown away.  In a series of challenges, I've chosen cliffs. It's hard for me to paint them, to get the sense of massive bulk, to get the sun, the shadows, and now, water. I like the first one (above) but get an idea halfway through and decide to do a second painting.  By the end, I am thoroughly exhausted, from painting, yes, but mostly from fighting with the wind. Little did I know, this was...