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I’m thankful for my collectors

Marshes along the Ottawa River, Plaisance, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Frequently, someone will tell me, “I love art but I can’t draw a straight line,” or, “You are so talented.” I don’t know any artists who can draw a straight line; we use rulers just like everyone else. And ‘talent’ really isn’t the deciding factor in whether a person can paint or not; what makes an artist is a passion for making art.

Having said that, I appreciate all of you who are fans of art but don’t want to do art. We can’t all be nurses, computer programmers, or carpenters, but we call on their services. Our economy depends on that. Similarly, artists depend on you, our collectors.

Athabasca River Confluence, 9X12, $696 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Since I stopped showing in galleries in 2020, I’ve had much more contact with my collectors. I really enjoy the interactions. Art is a form of communication, so the viewer also brings something to the table. Your questions, your comments, even the things you love or don’t like tell me a lot.

I’m staying at my daughter’s house. As I type this, I can see three paintings: one from our Alaska adventure and two by other artists. Mary was raised in the milieu of artists and art. She understands the difference between real art, sweatshop knock offs, and mass-produced prints. She understands why a well-chosen painting will wear better than other decorations.

That’s an advantage over most of her peers. I’ve talked to young people who point out that they could buy an entire room of TJMaxx ‘art’ for what one of my paintings costs. They haven’t yet figured out the advantages of choosing quality over quantity. I was young once too, and I too didn’t think I could afford good things. But eventually we all outgrow that.

Sand and Shadows, 8X16, $903 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

You, my collectors, are the people who’ve made this career possible over the past 26 years. Thank you.

It’s party time!

Those of you who read my newsletter know I’m doing a virtual First Friday on December 1, 2023 at 6 PM EST. But I want to be sure to invite everyone.

Pensive, 8X10, oil on archival canvasboard, $522 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

This show features paintings of Arizona and Alaska. Move past the radical differences in temperature, and there are surprising commonalities. In addition to a behind-the-scenes look at the paintings, you can  share your thoughts, ask questions, and enjoy a suggested wine pairing (BYOB):

Arizona sparkling wines, no pants, on the couch

  • Gruet Blanc de Noirs, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1474/NV-Blanc-de-Noirs
  • Gruet Brut, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/0693/NV-Brut
  • Gruet Brut RosĂ©, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/0695/NV-Brut-Rose

Arizona sparkling wines, black tie

  • Gruet 2016 Grand RosĂ© CuvĂ©e Danielle, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1476/2016-Grand-Rose-Cuvee-Danielle
  • Gruet 2018 Vintage Sauvage, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1475/2018-Vintage-Sauvage, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1475/2018-Vintage-Sauvage
  • Gruet Barrel-Aged Blanc de Noirs, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1581/Barrel-Aged-Blanc-de-Noirs

Arizona still wine, no pants, on the couch

  • 2020 Gruet Reserve Chardonnay, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1351/2020-Gruet-Reserve-Chardonnay
  • 2022 Reserve Still RosĂ©, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1740/2022-Reserve-Still-Rose

Arizona still wine, black tie

  • 2020 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, https://gruetwinery.orderport.net/product-details/1436/2020-Reserve-Cabernet-Sauvignon

Canadian (Niagara-on-the-Lake) still wine, no pants, on the couch

  • Konzelmann Estate Pinot Noir, https://store.konzelmann.ca/product/canada-red-
  • Konzelmann Estate Chardonney, https://store.konzelmann.ca/product/chardonnay-barrel-aged

Canadian (Niagara-on-the-Lake) still wine, black tie

  • Château des Charmes Equuleus, https://www.chateaudescharmes.com/shop/2020-equuleus/
  • Château des Charmes Cabernet Ice Wine: https://www.chateaudescharmes.com/shop/2018-cabernet-icewine-375-ml/
  • Château des Charmes Vidal Ice Wine: https://www.chateaudescharmes.com/shop/2019-vidal-icewine-375-ml/

Canadian (Niagara-on-the-Lake) still wine, no pants, on the couch

  • Konzelmann Estate Pinot Noir, https://store.konzelmann.ca/product/canada-red-
  • Konzelmann Estate Chardonney, https://store.konzelmann.ca/product/chardonnay-barrel-aged

Canadian (Niagara-on-the-Lake) still wine, black tie

  • Château des Charmes Equuleus, https://www.chateaudescharmes.com/shop/2020-equuleus/
  • Château des Charmes Cabernet Ice Wine: https://www.chateaudescharmes.com/shop/2018-cabernet-icewine-375-ml/
  • Château des Charmes Vidal Ice Wine: https://www.chateaudescharmes.com/shop/2019-vidal-icewine-375-ml/

Carol’s daily household plonk, no pants, on the couch:

  • Red: La Vieille Ferme Rouge 2021, https://www.wine.com/product/la-vieille-ferme-rouge-2021/1190021#
  • White: 2021 Anselmo Mendes Contacto Alvarinho, https://www.wine-searcher.com/find/anselm+mendes+contacto+alvarinho+verde+minho+portugal/2021

Sadly, Carol doesn’t have black-tie tastes.

Mocktail

My 2024 workshops:

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Gifts for the artist you love

Santa Claus, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed.

Today I’m thankful for the people who support artists, so here’s a shopping guide that will make their holiday gift-buying easier.

Let’s talk about brushes:

Several years ago, my students bought me a set of Rosemary & Co. brushes. My biggest regret about my lost painting kit is that those brushes were a gift from people I love, but Bobbi Heath and Karen Ames have both sent me spare brushes. That adds another level of gratitude to my brush roll.

Brushes are where quality matters, but they’re pricey, so they’re where most artists flinch. Why not buy a Rosemary & Co. gift card? That means they’ll have to pull the trigger on a brush, as Rosemary doesn’t carry much else. Gift cards come in odd increments because it’s a British firm, but plan to spend at least $130 for it to be useful. They make oil, acrylic and watercolor brushes, so only pastelists need miss out.

One of the nicest gifts I’ve ever received was this set of Rosemary & Co. oil brushes.

Isabey is a French company that makes very nice bristle brushes that stand up to hard use. If your artists have no big brushes, buy a bright, flat or round anywhere between a size 10 and 14. Those big boys are the ones artists never get around to buying.

It’s easy to wipe out tiny brushes. This small bright and even tinier round are perfect for detail. Princeton has rebranded these brushes as Snap! But they’re the same excellent quality that the series 9700 has always provided.

I have a collection of very expensive watercolor brushes but the ones I continually grab are Princeton Neptunes. This nifty travel kit would make any watercolor painter happy.

This Catalyst wedge is lots of fun with any heavy-body paint.

Eric Jacobsen, that incomparable mark-maker, got me a Princeton Catalyst W-06 wedge. You can’t be precise, so it’s a great tool for loosening up your brushwork. In fact, the whole series of these wedges are fun. They’re meant for any heavy-body paints, including oil, acrylic and encaustic.

If I could carry only one watercolor travel brush, it would be an Escoda Reserva Kolinsky-Tajmyr Pocket Brush. It’s compact, comes in a protective tube, and makes an outstanding range of marks. A close second at a lower price point are the Da Vinci Cosmotop Spin Travel Brushes. A hat tip to Heather Evans Davis for introducing me to them.

Gouache is a versatile and portable medium that’s appealing to artists in any medium. I did this when I ran out of painting boards while stranded in Argentina.

Gouache and other colorful things

Many painters are interested in experimenting with gouache, and for good reason-its results are completely on-trend. Schmincke Horadam is a fabulous, high-pigment brand, but a starter set runs a hundred bucks. Instead, you could make up a primary-color kit of Titanium White, Lemon Yellow, Scarlet (Pyrrole Red), Helio Blue (Phthalo), and Ivory Black. That’s everything necessary for limited-palette painting. M. Graham has a primary-color starter set that’s significantly less expensive and nearly as luscious.

A great combo for mixed medium experimentation is oil paint and oil pastels. Sennelier is the clear quality winner in oil pastels. A landscape or iridescent starter kit will give your artist enough information to know if he likes the combination.

Similarly, you can add chalk pastels to watercolor or acrylic paintings. My preferred soft pastel is Unison; a starter color kit is enough to experiment with. I love NuPastel for hard pastels; a set of 24 will provide a full range of color options. Of course, watercolor pencils are fun for everyone. I like Staedtler Karat Aquarell and Faber-Castell Albrecht DĂĽrer Magnus, which are fatter than usual.

Cheap pochade boxes are a false economy. This field kit was pricey, but it’s put up with an incredible amount of abuse, including saltwater, sand, deserts, heat and freezing temperatures.

Easels: the good, the bad, and the ugly

If your painter struggles with a knock-off Gloucester-style easel, you can make him or her ecstatic by buying the Take-It Easel, which costs twice as much and is worth every penny. After breaking one of the cheap ones and then buying a second one that arrived warped, I shelled out for the real thing. I’m glad I did.

As a teacher, I see a lot of pochade boxes and easels, and can steer you away from the bad ones as well as recommend good ones. I’ve had a version of the Mabef Field Painting Easel for decades and recommend it highly as a good starter tool for plein air. It has a swing head so can be used for oils and watercolor. The Leder Easel is simple, effective and light-weight. Tell Ed I sent you and he’ll give you 10% off (and, no, I don’t get a spiff for that).

I use an EasyL Pro on a carbon-fiber Manfrotto tripod with a ball head. It is very lightweight and has survived incredible abuse (including saltwater), but it’s not a cheap combination (and thank goodness it wasn’t in my painting kit when that went missing.) I’m getting an EasyL Lite soon, which will replace my home-built aluminum pochade box for backpacking.

For studio work, I swear by the Testrite #700 Professional Studio Easel. I use its little brother, the Testrite #500, for students. The difference between the two models is in the maximum size canvas they’ll accept. They’re aluminum so they don’t warp or crack. I’ve had them for decades. The only maintenance I’ve ever done was replace parts that wandered off.

My traffic cones ride in the back of my truck, but if you drive a smaller vehicle, you’ll want the collapsible kind.

Miscellany

The danger of “park and paint” plein air is other drivers. One of the nicest gifts I ever received was a pair of safety cones. This set of collapsible ones are reflective, come with LED lights, and will fit easily in a car trunk.

I have an Artwork Essentials umbrella, but I’m equally impressed with the Shade Buddy. However, for many situations, I find a beach umbrella works just as well.

I have more than one taboret cabinet but my current favorite is this simple six drawer rolling cart. Mine sits under my teaching desk and holds all the art supplies I might need while teaching. Watch for discounts; I got mine on a Woot daily deal.

If your artist is starting to frame and sell work, the Fletcher FrameMaster point driver will save him or her a world of aggravation. Mine is decades old and still works fine.

Mary’s soap. Just wait until you see the movie.

I’d be remiss in not mentioning Rowan Branch Brush Soap. My daughter Mary makes it for me, and I’ve shared it with enough other artists to know that it really works.

This page contains affiliate links for some but not all products. If you choose to make a purchase after clicking a link, I may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Thank you for your support!

My 2024 workshops:

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Best Buds

Best Buds, 11X14, oil on canvasboard, $1087 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

I’ve painted two paintings of spinning children’s rides, Best Buds, above, and Tilt-A-Whirl. Both were an attempt to capture something of the innocence of carnival rides and the warm summer days of our youth.

Occasionally, someone will question whether I did them from life, because they think it’s impossible to paint something spinning. It is doable, although it can be dizzying.

The Adirondack Carousel, which is the subject of this painting, is in Saranac Lake, NY. It features hand-carved woodland animals from the Adirondack Mountains. It was the brainchild of local woodcarver Karen Loffler and took twelve years, countless volunteer hours, and $1.3 million in locally-raised funds.

The result is indistinguishable in craftsmanship from the great carousels that were produced in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Yet it’s distinctly local, and clearly beloved by children. John Deer, on the left in my picture, is a particular favorite. The kids told me so.

The pavilion has 24 handcrafted wildlife animals, eighteen of which are on duty at any one time. Do I have a favorite? How could I, when they’re all so perfect? (You can see them here.) I think the black bear, decked out in the colors of the Hudson’s Bay Company point blanket, captured my attention first. But each animal has its own particular charm-except maybe the black fly.

There’s a wheelchair accessible ride in the form of a Chris Craft boat. The overhead scenes of Saranac Lake were painted by local artists (including my friend Sandra Hildreth), as were the floral medallions. A local blacksmith made the weathervane and a local carpenter built the ticket counter. The building was painted and stained by volunteers. The result is distinctly local, happy, and very Adirondack.

The girl is a complete invention, vaguely reminiscent of a kid I knew in Maine named Meredith Lewis (who is now a willowy, beautiful teenager). I debated on the title for quite a while, finally settling on Best Buds. Even if my girl is riding the otter, her heart belongs to John Deer.

Best Buds is oil on archival canvasboard, 11X14 and is in elegant Canadian-made frame with wooden fillet. It lists at $1087, but you can have 10% off it (or any other painting) by using the code THANKYOUPAINTING10.

My 2024 workshops:

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Today I’m thankful for the helpers.

Pine Tree State, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 framed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

My friend Laura Miner loves to quote Mr. Rogers at me every time there’s a disaster. “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'”

I can’t say I watch much news, scary or otherwise, but I’m keenly aware of the helpers. They always seem to be with me. Most recently, my friend and student Karen Ames learned that my brushes were lost when my painting pack went AWOL in Arizona. She promptly mailed me a beautiful selection of Rosemary hog bristle brushes. “I wasn’t using them and I know you needed them,” she said. I was very touched.

Early Spring on Beech Hill, oil on archival canvasboard, Carol L. Douglas, 12X16, $1449 framed includes shipping in continental US.

Have you ever done a good deed and never received a thank you? When I was 14, my brother was in a crash that killed him, his two classmates, and a passenger in the other vehicle. Our house was pandemonium, so I slipped out and walked to the neighbors. Dear old Mr. and Mrs. Adler took one look at my ashen face and gave me a large glass of brandy. I had no experience with spiritous liquor; I choked and sputtered, but it did make me feel better. Of course, I never thanked them; 14-year-olds are ingrates at the best of times, and that was the worst of times. They’re both gone now, but I’ve never forgotten that simple act of kindness.

Never assume that your small deeds don’t have an impact, or that the recipients aren’t grateful. It may take a snotty teenager decades to realize her indebtedness, but she’ll eventually get there.

It’s not always easy or cheap to be kind. For example, you’re late to work for the third time and the car in front of you is potting along at 20 MPH below the speed limit. (My daughter, who inherited her lead foot from me, says that Maine’s state motto is “35 MPH was good enough for Grandpa, and it’s good enough for me.”) How tempting it is to blow the horn, yell, and tailgate. You finally manage to pass and you realize that the old lady driver has a death-grip on the wheel; she’s the same age your mom would be if she were still alive. You’re suddenly very relieved that you didn’t act like a jerk.

At Rest in Camden Harbor, 12X16, oil on birch, $1159 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

Artists are famously broke. They’re also, paradoxically, among the most generous of people. I left my quinacridone magenta home when I was at the Sedona Plein Air Festival. There was none to be purchased anywhere in town. Casey Cheuvront immediately gave me a big dollop of the closest thing she had, dioxazine purple. Later, Ed Buonvecchio loaned me a tube of magenta. I’ve never run short of something, broken something, or forgotten something that an artist hasn’t immediately stepped forward with an offer to help.

Old Wyoming Homestead, 9×12, oil on archival canvasboard, $696 unframed includes shipping and handling in continental US.

People sometimes talk about ‘paying it forward’ but most helpers aren’t thinking of kindness as a debit/credit sheet. They’re not treating the universe as a giant karmic apparatus that repays their kindnesses with benefits. They’re just being kind. That’s because kindness is not a zero-sum game, but rather something that can fill us to overflowing and never run out.

Today I’m thankful for the helpers. Here’s a discount code for all you helpers, which will give you 10% off any painting on this website: THANKYOUPAINTING10

My 2024 workshops:

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This series would not be happening without you

From Step 1: the Perfect Palette

Last year, Laura and I sketched out a seven-part series called Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters. Laura had a vision based on the industrial training videos that were part of her prior career. I’ve never watched a training video in my life; the last time I worked for someone else, my instructions were scribbled on foolscap.

I didn’t want to make a tedious video where I did a long, uninterrupted demo. They always make me fall asleep. Laura wanted a series of shorts that explained a specific concept. Each would be followed by exercises and a quiz.

I had no idea how to record video, and no clue how to edit it when it was done. However, I did have a good SLR and audio recorder. My son introduced me to DaVinci Resolve. We bought a subscription to Canva and extra storage on Google. Once we had all those things in place, we realized we had no idea what we were doing.

From Step 2: the Value Drawing

There is nothing more disheartening than spending an afternoon painting, only to find that you hadn’t focused the camera, or the light was wrong, or you forgot to start the audio recorder. If there was a mistake to be made, I’ve made it.

Our goal was to finish all seven classes by the end of the year, but as the summer season heated up, I lost my momentum. We will probably finish the fifth one by Christmas, and the other two by the end of winter. Once that’s done, you’ll no longer need me; you can learn to paint by doing the exercises.

From Step 3: The Correct Composition

This series would not be happening without you. That starts with the people who have asked me over the year to write a book; I got it outlined and then stalled. The outline for that book became the outline for this series.

Then there are the people who beta tested the first class. You gave me incisive and pertinent feedback, which improved later classes. A few loyal testers have been with me through every episode, and I’m especially grateful for you.

I’m grateful for the early adopters of the series. At times I wondered whether Laura and I had lost our minds in devoting a year to such a risky venture. But many of you have taken them, and you seem to have found them valuable. “I took Carol’s online class modules prior to the [Rockport Immersive] workshop and found them to be great preparation,” Beth D. wrote. “I don’t think I could have absorbed all that complicated and practical information while painting plein air on location. The modules were very brief and concise yet enlightening.” Thank you, Beth.

From Step 4: the Essential Grisaille

In appreciation of you all, here’s a code for 30% off one of the Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters. Choose from:

STEP 1: THE PERFECT PALETTE

STEP 2: THE VALUE DRAWING

STEP 3: THE CORRECT COMPOSITION

STEP 4: THE ESSENTIAL GRISAILLE

Just type THANKYOU30 in the coupon code. And thank you so much!

My 2024 workshops:

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How I fell in love (with a boat)

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed.

Shortly after I moved to Maine, I presented myself at the North End Ship Yard in Rockland to ask if I could paint. It was spring, and the annual rite of fit out was just starting. This is when the windjammers are lifted out of the water, their hulls scraped and painted, and below-the-waterline repairs done. Large wooden vessels spend all year in the water, and each boat spends just a few days on the rails. If they pass their Coast Guard inspections, they are allowed to sail another season.

It was there that I met Captain John Foss of American Eagle, and Captains Doug and Linda Lee of Heritage. They’ve co-owned the shipyard for almost fifty years. They are tolerant of artists and allowed me to mooch around the yard all spring.

When that season ended, Captain John said, “Why don’t you go out with us on our last cruise? You can see what this is all about.” I foolishly brought oil paints, which got all over his beautifully-finished deck, but he’s a very even-tempered fellow.

Schooner and double rainbow. That’s almost as good as a unicorn!

The next year, we started our watercolor workshop, because the paint is easier to get off the fittings.

I think American Eagle is the best-looking schooner in the Maine Windjammer fleet. (The ketch Angelique comes a close second.) I’m not saying that just because I sail on her. Some schooners, like Angelique and Heritage, are modern reproductions of 19th century designs. Others are repurposed 19th century working boats. They tend towards the ruffles and ribbons of the Edwardian age.

In contrast, American Eagle was built in 1931, part of the last generation of the Gloucester schooner fishing fleet. She has an elegant, austere silhouette. I’d almost call her Art Deco, she’s so sleek. The graceful arc of her prow, which is all that shows in American Eagle in Dry Dock, is a hint that the whole of her is equally graceful.

That first fit out impressed me with the amount of sheer, hard graft the captains put in readying their boats for the water. Of course, they don’t do it alone; each year they get a new crop of youngsters working as deckhands or messmates. (If I’d known such a gig existed when I was 18 or 21, my life would have been very different.)

Trina Ross, Savra Frounfelker, and Donna Gray playing at ‘Three Men in a Boat.’

Before they ever go out, these hands scrape, strip, varnish, paint, caulk, lug, climb… in short, any difficult physical labor you can imagine, they do. And the captains are right there with them, even up past an age when any sane person would have retired.

What I didn’t realize was that life on the water is as strenuous as life in the winter. Not only does the crew handle the ship (and there are no labor-saving devices on board), they also prepare meals and serve passengers. They take turns staying awake at night to keep watch, because the schooners anchor in deep water.

Everything is done by hand on a windjammer. That’s Mike Prairie holding the line.

Two years ago, Eagle went out with a new captain, Tyler King, who is the same age as my youngest kid. I’d sailed with him as John’s mate, but that’s different from having all the responsibility for boat, crew and passengers on his young shoulders. On our first cruise together, I watched him do a quick evasive maneuver with utter calm and competence. He’s an excellent sailor and a sharp cookie.

The chances that I can convince my husband I need a sailboat are slim to nil. Realistically, I can’t even take out the skiff I own. But I’m blessed to be able to go cruising during my watercolor workshop, and I don’t have to do any of the heavy lifting.

Remember to bookmark December 1 for our first Virtual First Friday, starting at 7 PM. I think it’s going to be a gas.

My 2024 workshops:

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I’m thankful for you, dear readers

Primary Shapes, 6X8, oil on archival canvasboard, $435 includes shipping and handling in the continental US.

First among the many things for which I’m thankful are you, the people who read my blog and are part of my community. This blog started almost two decades ago as a very clunky essay on WordPress, with almost no readers and rather stilted writing. That was back when my website was called Painter of Blight as a cruel mockery of Thomas Kinkade. We should not speak ill of the dead, and, anyway, I outgrew sophomoric humor. I think.

From there I migrated to Blogger, then to the Bangor Daily News, then back to Blogger and finally home to my own website. I’ve never totally understood the mechanics of moving a blog, which is why only the last move really worked, and why you’ll occasionally come across an old post where the pictures have disappeared.

American Eagle in Drydock, 12X16, $1159 unframed includes shipping in continental US. Do I have a crush on this boat? You bet I do!

Some years I barely wrote at all; others I wrote five days a week. Today this blog goes out to thousands of readers three times a week. It has a very high open rate by industry standards, and that’s down to you. Thank you.

It’s also reposted on social media, where, paradoxically, most people make their comments. (Hint: if you post them here, they last forever. However, you usually must wait for me to approve them. Any website that raises its head above the parapet is prone to denial of service attacks. Then there are the goofballs who think they can plug unrelated websites in the comments. That’s why our security is so high.)

A blog is a partnership between writer and reader. It wouldn’t happen without the input, questions, and ideas that you readers send me. Amazingly, I’ve never been stumped for an idea; right before the well runs dry, one of you always contacts me about something and-bam-there’s another post.

American Eagle rounding Owls Head, 6×8, oil on archival canvasboard, $348 unframed.

I used to write these ideas down in a tiny 35¢ notebook I referred to as my iPod touch. Amazingly, a tiny notebook can still be had for 35¢, but now I store our bright ideas in my computer.

I have a few obsessions besides painting. They are general history, art history, and the gender pay gap in the arts. You’ve traveled down many rabbit holes with me, from this potted history of the art model to the story of Vincent Van Gogh’s sister-in-law.

Today I talked to someone who asked me if I really planned on working until 80. “Yes,” I told him, “If my health holds out.” Some days I’m tired, some days I’m discouraged, but overall I have a tremendous amount of fun doing this gig. Thank you so much.

If you get my newsletters, you know that I’m offering a discount for all workshops for 2024. In appreciation for all my readers, I’m extending that to anyone who reads my blog anywhere. Just use the code EARLYBIRD at checkout to save $25 on your registration fee (except Sedona; but it’s still a great deal). This offer is good until the end of the year.

“Bracken Fern,” 12X9, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed.

Save the date

I’m planning an online party on Friday, December 1, at 6 PM. More details soon, but you won’t want to miss it.

My 2024 workshops:

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I’m thankful, how about you?

Skylarking II, 18X24, $1855 unframed or $2318 includes shipping and handling in continental US.

For the professional artist, marketing is our most important job. People often say, “But you’re doing what you love!” Sadly, artists must buy groceries and pay mortgages and taxes just like everyone else. And while my friend derives great satisfaction from being a surgeon, nobody expects her to work for free.

One can’t sell in America without engaging with Black Friday. In the past, I’ve made haphazard efforts toward Black Friday Sales, but they aren’t a good fit for me. I loathe shopping and Black Friday most of all. My products (paintings and painting instruction) don’t fit the model of Kohl’s or Macy’s, which have limitless items they can mix and max in the advertisements they’ll barrage you with this month.

“Skylarking,” 24X36, oil on canvas, $3,188 unframed or $3985 framed, includes shipping in continental US.

On Friday, I had a brainstorm that will radically change my blog for the remainder of November. Instead of focusing on Black Friday, why not explore thanksgiving?

For years, I publicly counted my blessings every November. This year, I’ve been a little shaken on my pins. Mired in worry, I completely forgot about that practice. But it’s never too late to start practicing gratitude.

Breaking storm, 48X30, oil on canvas, $5,579 framed includes shipping in continental US.

What’s in it for you?

For much of my adult life, I believed the ‘black dog’ of depression was my lot. My father and grandmother both died of it, and I experienced significant trauma as a child. Psychologists reinforced the idea that my depression needed management, not banishment.

I’m not saying that the simple act of counting my blessings cured my depression-it was a far bigger transition than that. (And if you want to hear it, you’ll have to email me, because I’m not getting into it on a public forum.) But counting my blessings played a tremendously big part of making me the larky person I am today.

Larky Morning at Rockport Harbor, 11X14, on archival drymounted linen, $869 unframed includes shipping in continental US.

But don’t take my word for it:

  • Many studies have shown that expressing gratitude can lead to increased happiness and reduced symptoms of depression. Gratitude helps shift our focus from what we lack to what we have, and that promotes a more positive mindset.
  • Studies have also shown that gratitude improves our physical health. Grateful people have stronger immune systems, lower blood pressure, and a decreased likelihood of developing illnesses.
  • Gratitude strengthens our relationships. We all tend to like people who acknowledge and appreciate our good points, far more than the person who carps at us. Expressing gratitude fosters a sense of closeness and connection.
  • Gratitude leads to increased resilience during challenging times. It allows individuals to reframe difficult situations and find silver linings, promoting a more adaptive response to stress and adversity.
  • Cultivating an attitude of gratitude enhances our emotional well-being. Regularly acknowledging the things we are thankful for can lead to more joy, optimism, and contentment. This, in turn, contributes to our overall sense of well-being and satisfaction.
  • Gratitude prepares your brain to be altruistic. Grateful individuals tend to be more empathetic and generous. As you can imagine, this can create a positive cycle of kindness and giving in one-on-one relationships and collective activities. (This cycle of kindness, by the way, is one of the main things I value in my church.)
  • Gratitude and self-compassion are integrally related to mindfulness. Gratitude involves focusing on our present blessings. This helps reduce the chatter of anxiety, promoting a more balanced state of mind. That quiets the voices that tell us we’re insufficient, unqualified, or just plain bad.

For the rest of November, my Monday and Wednesday posts will focus on thankfulness. Fridays will still be about paintings, to fulfill a promise to my business partner Laura.

My 2024 workshops:

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Main Street, Owls Head

Main Street, Owls Head, 16X20, oil on gessoboard, $1,623 unframed, includes shipping in continental US.

Before I get into this, we’ve updated all our 2024 workshops. We’ll be sending out coupons with discount codes soon; if you’re not on my mailing list already, sign up in the box to the right.

Each week until the end of the year I’ll be giving you a behind-the-scenes look at one of my favorite paintings. These are paintings that are available for you to purchase unless otherwise noted.

Plein air painters sometimes avoid work by endless texting about possible locations. Or, we can get into our cars and drive around, but with gas hovering at $4 a gallon that hasn’t been practical. A good artist can make a painting with the thinnest tissue of material, so you know that when we do that, we’re ducking something.

The empty house with the wild lupines, private collection.

I can almost always persuade Eric Jacobsen to come out to Owl’s Head. It has great fishing shacks and a stellar working harbor. The tiny hamlet of Owls Head has resisted the tarting up that’s marred parts of midcoast Maine. Plus, the Owl’s Head General Store has reopened and my sources say it is as good as ever.

A view of the same house from below on a very foggy day; I have no idea where this painting has larked off to.

There’s a house in Owl’s Head that’s been empty for around eight years (I heard it recently changed hands again; may this time be the charm.) I don’t know its specific story, but the phenomenon of the abandoned house has always bothered me. Sometimes it’s about lack of jobs in an area, or getting behind on taxes. Equally, it can be caused by friction between heirs, divorce or other ructions, which tear away at property as much as they tear away at human beings. But a house is a middle-class person’s biggest asset, so letting one moulder seems all wrong.

This is not a painting of that abandoned house. Rather, I painted it from that house’s front yard. I’d intended to paint the house itself once again, but as Eric and I stood scoping our vistas, I realized that I’d always wanted to paint the view downhill. That hip-roofed foursquare house is a coastal Maine gem, and its owners have carefully preserved its charm.

Fishing boat at Owl’s Head, private collection.

Eric set up looking uphill, and I set up looking downhill. This is where I developed my own version of Ken DeWaard’s Park-N-Paint, where I sit in a lawn chair in the bed of my truck with my feet up on a box. It’s so relaxed that Colin Page once asked me, “Carol, can’t you at least look like you’re working?”

That illusion of inertia must work, because when I was done, Eric said, “that’s great, Carol.” For once I agreed with him. It remains one of my favorite paintings.

Main Street, Owl’s Head is 16X20 and available for $1623. The whiff of seawater and sunlight is included free.

My 2024 workshops:

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When you overdo it

My kit in happier days, at the Red Barn Gallery in Port Clyde. Come to think of it, Port Clyde has also seen happier days.

There’s healthy hard work, and then there’s the point at which efficiency rapidly descends into chaos. I must have been at that point on Saturday because, after carefully wrapping frames and paintings at the end of the 19th Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival, I managed to lose my painting pack. Although my paints and pochade box were in my suitcase instead of in the pack, it’s still a big issue. I’ve contacted the Sedona Arts Center and my car rental firm to see if either has it. Until they respond, I wait.

My exhaustion comes not just from my teaching and painting schedule but from the hours spent filming and editing Seven Protocols for Successful Oil Painters. Four are done; the fifth is almost in the bag. My intention was to finish them by the end of this calendar year, but that’s looking impossible.

My kit going canoeing in Camden Harbor.

Exhaustion has many harmful effects on the human brain, including cognitive impairment, emotional instability (quit saying that; I’m fine!), reduced attention span, impaired judgment, and a greater risk of accidents. Add to that the stress I alluded to here, and I had set up a perfect storm. However, I still don’t know how I could have missed a full-sized backpack full of painting tools as I was packing to come home.

“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade,” my husband told me. “Tell your reading audience what was in that pack and why you have those things.”

Eric Jacobsen and I were trudging up Beech Hill in the early spring when he noticed I was carrying my gear in a crummy old messenger bag. “You have good backpacks for hiking,” he pointed out. “Why don’t you buy one for painting, which you do every day?” That’s why I bought a Kelty backpack. Although expensive, it’s paid for itself many times over. The exact model I have is no longer made, but this is a close approximation. It’s sized for women, but they make a similar pack for men. If I’m carrying a small pochade box, I can hike long distances without hurting my elderly back.

My seedy but functional pochade boxes rely on a Red Devil scraper to keep them going. I don’t clean them, I just scrape out any paint that’s started to get sticky.

Two years ago, my students got sick of me telling them, “you need good brushes for watercolors, but you can paint with sticks in oils,” and bought me this fantastic set from Rosemary & Co. I added a few Isabey Chungking bristle brushes and three long-handle flats for laying in flat fields of color. Needless to say, I have great sentimental attachment to that brush set.

The only other important thing is my brush-washing canister, but I misplace them so often it hardly signifies.

In the miscellany category, there’s my Bristol-board sketchbook-my dearest friend-and a mechanical pencil from Staples. Eric Jacobsen also recommended this Princeton Catalyst wedge for moving paint around (I swear it only cost me $2 last year). I have a marking stylus given to me by my friend and monitor Jennifer Johnson, and a 4″ plastic putty knife I use as a straight-edge. Then there’s my Red Devil scraper, key to keeping my pochade boxes in their seedy but workable condition. And of course, there are bottle caps I use instead of palette cups, assorted S-hooks and other random hardware, and painting rags.

The problem with losing my sketchbooks is that I never know what drawings are in them. This appears to be a sketch of my depleted firewood pile.

I had pulled my paints out along with my pochade box, but my pack still held my lucky 1-pint Gamsol bottle, which has been refilled endlessly and has traveled around the world with me. There was also a small bottle of stand oil.

Last but certainly not least, there were these inexpensive mesh bags I bought from Amazon last year on the advice of Casey Cheuvront. They keep me organized-can’t you tell?

My 2024 workshops: