"Oysters and lemons"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel - 6" x 8"

Hey, what can I say? Oysters are fun to paint! These guys modeled for me at the Cross Street Market in the Federal Hill area of Baltimore.

"Oyster and knife"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel - 6" x 8"

It's ironic that I love to paint (and slurp) oysters but I couldn't unhinge a raw one if my life depended on it. I've watched the process a thousand times. It looks so simple when my friend George does it, of course he is a world champion oyster shucker. To be fair, I haven't tried in a long while.

This beauty and a host of its siblings were brought to a party I attended recently by a very thoughtful and well received guest. Carried in a joint compound bucket, along with the accouterments for opening them, they were dredged from the river flowing past his backyard. Thankfully he also brought the skill to retrieve the bounty within. Someday I'll try again when the fear of a stigmata has past.

"Neptune Oyster House Oyster"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel 5" x 7"

The terrible headlines about the eminent ruination of the Gulf Coast has got me thinking and worrying about my beloved Gulf Oysters. Plumper and sweeter than their East Coast brethren, I would hate to think I may have had my last taste of them. Yesterday I painted a cat named Bean. Today a blue point oyster from the Neptune Oyster House in Bean-town. Coincidence? You tell me.

"Oyster with Three Lemons"

Oil on canvas textured ampersand panel 6" x 6"

"Oyster Plate"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel 8" x 8"

"The world was my oyster but I used the wrong fork" - Oscar Wilde

"Crustaceans"

Oil on museum quality ampersand gessobord panel 8" x 8"

Baltimore has long been called "the land of pleasant living" in advertisements for National Bohemian beer. Natty Boh being the proper drink of choice to wash down a dozen steamed crabs. Tossed unceremoniously on brown Kraft paper or on yesterdays news, these steaming hot crustaceans are what makes living in Maryland so special. In New England, arthropods are treated more upscale, often accompanied by a tenderloin filet and a fine Cabernet. The French take seafood to yet another level, pun intended. Their "plateau de fruits de mer" is a thing of beauty. Assorted shellfish and crabs are artfully arranged on a tower of ice filled splendor. You can find these in just about every brasserie in Paris. I hated to deconstruct these glorious edible works of art, although they were delicious.

"Eat Bertha's Mussels"

Oil on Canvas 15" x 20"

It is amazing how much time and thought goes into building a new house. Extreme care must be given to the choosing and placement of the smallest detail. As we get closer to being "under roof" the decisions about plumbing and lighting are coming fast and furious. Not wanting to make a mistake, we are spending hours and hours perusing lighting books and the Internet for that perfect sconce, just the right farm house sink, etc, etc. Sadly, my head is spinning from all this and I have not been able to concentrate. I did stand at the easel today but it just wasn't there. The painting laid in nicely but I couldn't see it through. I am going to freeze the palette and try again tomorrow. In the meantime, here is a painting a did in'05 that hasn't been posted.

There is a bar/restaurant in Fells Point called Bertha's which is famous for their steamed mussels. It is not uncommon to see their ubiquitous "Eat Bertha's Mussels" bumper stickers all over town. In one of the little side rooms, in a room painted chalk board green, is a table that has what I consider to be the perfect light for a portrait. I took my model friend Stephanie there one early afternoon for lunch, hoping my special table was unoccupied. It was and this is the result. They have excellent mussels by the way, if you should find yourself on the waterfront in Baltimore.

"Maryland Steamed Crab"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 8”

There is a song that is popular around this time of year called “[Oh, I want] Crabs for Christmas.” You may think that crab season is long gone. Au contraire, mon frère! Some of the best crabs we have ever had were consumed in the winter. Granted they were brought up from Texas or Louisiana but they were meaty and delicious. This little guy was the last of the local Chesapeake Bay harvest. Small, but fat and sweet. A pitcher of Natty Boh (National Bohemian) is the perfect accompaniment to these delightful crustaceans but sadly, at our favorite crab house we have to settle for Coor’s Light. It is visually identical to Boh, so use your imagination. Cheers!

"Oyster Shell with Lemons"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 8”

I threw my back out yesterday, which put the "pain" in painting.  I stand while I work and every time I twisted from my easel to my palette, which is on a converted music stand, it was electrifying.  I guess being 55 is starting to take its toll.  I may try and paint something simple today and hold the palette in my hand.  I am riding my Harley on a 1200 mile ride down to the Florida Keys, leaving Sunday, so I want to baby my back until then.  To that end, there will be no new daily paintings from 10-25 thru 11-5. "Please don't talk about me when I'm gone."  On second thought, talk all you want.  It is better to be looked over, than overlooked.

"Oysters,Guinness and lemon"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 5” x 7”

Shiver me timbers!  It be September me hearties and that be a month with an Arrrrr. Davy Jones has once again given up some of his treasure from the briny deep. In this case that be the Whale Rock oyster from the Mystic River in Connecticut. Sink me, it's time to splice the mainbrace. Fair winds!

OK, enough with the Captain Jack already!  Do we have an accord? (sorry)  I was in a funk yesterday and wasn't really in the mood to paint but regrouped later in the day to push around some paint.  This piece is little more than a sketch but I like the spontaneity of it.  There is something satisfying about scratching your name into wet paint.  It is tantamount to carving your name in a tree, perhaps more so.  Even the hardiest tree will fall but a work of art will go on. Unless the piece is total dreck, I don't know anyone who throws away art.*  It may get passed around or given to the goodwill perhaps, but not thrown in the bin.  The world is full of works of art that perchance should be tossed, but like an ugly child, someone will love them. So paint carefully my brothers and sisters.  If the world is still around, and you have used good materials, the by product of your creative efforts will be around long after you are gone. There is a reason why they make "student grade" materials - planned obsolescence.

  *I went to my 20th high school reunion back in 1990 and ran into a girl with whom I exacted my very first painting transaction.   It was a piece I had done in Studio class my senior year of my friend Danny rising from a field of weeds or wildflowers (this was the sixties, baby, and we were letting our freak flag fly.)  I was very flattered when this girl (a very attractive girl, I might add. One who I never had the nerve to even talk to) ask if she could buy it.  Hitherto, I had not thought about pricing or even selling my work, so her question caught me off guard.  "Sure," I stammered, "How about 10 bucks" This was a lot of money in 1969, at least it was to me.  She agreed and we made the exchange.  When I saw her again at the reunion, I asked about the painting.  She informed me that her husband didn't like it and threw it out.  Not gave it away, mind you...THREW IT OUT!!  So much for my first sale. 

"Lobster on Ice"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 8”

I meant for these lobster paintings to be a "before and after" set but oops, I sold the other one already.  I am going to hold this one back for the Ice House show in October.  I had fun scumbling in the barnacles and craggy spines and, of course, ice is always fun to paint.  

"Round Pegs in a Square Hole"

Oil on museum quality, archival ampersand gessobord™ panel - 6” x 6”

Oysters! Did you miss 'em? These beauties were had at Lillet on Magazine Street in New Orleans this past April. I couldn't help but notice the way the array of pin spots above rained down on the soft flesh of the oysters nestled in their bed of ice casting reflections of light like some distant galaxy. No mere gulf oysters were these but highfalutin cousins visiting from the northeast. They begged to take a dip in the black hole that was the deep red mignonette. Does July have an "R" in it? No? Damn, two more months until September.

"Oyster, Shell and Lemon"

Oil on archival, museum quality, 1/8” Ampersand Gessobord™ panel – 6” x 6”

These beauties were shucked at the Acme Oyster House in New Orleans. The lovely marble bar works well with the alabaster shell and soft flesh of the oyster. I took a few liberties refecting the hints of blue in the bar.

Back in February, twenty-six–year-old violin virtuoso David Garrett fell down a flight of stairs and landed on his violin case, which held a priceless Stradivarius. The violinist wasn’t badly hurt, but his instrument was not so lucky; upon opening the case, he found the violin in pieces. I had a similar experience recently. Well, perhaps not quite as devastating as crushing a priceless Stradivarius but just as debilitating to this artist; my palette knife finally gave up the ghost and broke from metal fatigue after 40 years of faithful service. Much has changed since I bought that first knife. As my painting brethren can tell you, mixing paint is crucial to a successful work of art. The feel and spring of a good palette knife becomes second nature. My dear old knife was Japanese. Its fine blade had the perfect shape, thinness and spring for the job. Although I did manage to find a close approximation of the shape, the new blade is Italian and is thicker than its predecessor. The spring is all wrong. I may have to try and find an old one on eBay.

In the words of Joni Mitchell -

“Don’t it always seem to go

That you don’t know what you’ve got

Till it's gone”