After a week painting outdoors in this limpid October light, my workshop students are showing their work! Join us tonight, Friday, October 10, 5–7 PM at the Carol L. Douglas Gallery, 394 Commercial Street, Rockport for my final gallery opening of the season — with new student pieces and some of mine on the walls too.
Their work is still wet and oh, so fresh. These students range from absolute beginners to experienced painters, and their progress this week has been wonderful to watch.
This is the last event of the year before I close for the season, as I’ll be heading for Arizona next week for the 21st Annual Sedona Plein Air Festival. It’s a wonderful chance to see both my students’ work and mine.
I’d like to regale you with stories about their courage in the face of rain, fog, sleet, wind and snow, but the weather this week has been absolutely wonderful. (I keep telling you that autumn is the best season in coastal Maine.) Other than a rogue wave nearly washing Dave and his easel off the rocks, it’s been a blessedly drama-free week. I’ve driven them hard, however. I know they’re tired, and ready to join you for a glass of wine and conversation.
Plein air painting is never boring. First, there were skinny-dippers, then these four scuba divers…
We’ve painted at Beech Hill, Camden harbor, Beauchamp Point and Owls Head, giving us granite rockscapes, the long view of Penobscot Bay, lobster boats and fall color. Come meet the artists, enjoy light refreshments, and take home a piece of Maine, painted with heart and immediacy.
Somehow my workshops always seem to involve dogs. That’s Ellie curling up with Mike and Sharron.
My 2026 workshop and Zoom class schedule will be published soon. Watch this space for more information.
We’ve been hiking Beech Hill for so many years that you’d think our feet could navigate on their own. Apparently, that’s not true. On a glorious day in mid-April, my husband stepped wrong and wrenched his back. That has meant pain for him and small inconveniences for me. For one thing, he keeps our pace. Without him, I’m just ambling along listening to birdsong.
Doug also carries paintings down from their second-story storage unit. I’m no good at lifting. But eventually I got it done, and I’m happy with the results.
As I unwrapped the work, I found myself saying over and over, “this is my favorite painting.” That’s a great thing, because it means that, right now, I like my own work. Serious painters know that this isn’t always the case. We can get very angsty about our painting at times.
Wreck of the SS Ethie, oil on canvas, 18X24, $2318 framed. This is one of the few non-plein air pieces in this show.
Plein air is where my heart is
Most of the work in this show is plein air. That’s no surprise, since plein air immerses both the artist and viewer into the spirit of the place it was painted.
“My clients don’t care whether I painted it en plein air or not,” a friend once observed. I’m not sure that’s true. Plein air feels different than studio painting, since it involves fast analysis of light, shadows, texture and color. I’m not dissing the studio painting; I’ve done plenty of them. But for the client who loves the outdoors, who wants to sit in that sweet spot between art and nature, plein air is going to resonate more strongly.
The Logging Truck, 16X20, oil on canvas, was painted en plein air on the side of a precipitous incline, with, yes, logging trucks barreling past at regular intervals. This is one of my favorite favorites.
This year’s show is almost completely Maine. The exceptions are a seascape from Parrsboro, NS and a harbor scene from Iona in Scotland. There are no paintings from Patagonia, Alaska, Texas, New Mexico, or Arizona, as much fun as I’ve loved painting in those places. I’ll get back to them later.
Place and painting have a complicated relationship. You don’t need to go far to find a beautiful subject. For most of us, there’s a painting waiting right outside the back door. (If you live where there’s not, I’d suggest you move for your mental health.) On the other hand, painting in other places changes your perception. If you’re any good, the light, shapes, rocks, trees, and houses will all be different.
For years I’ve pondered the relationship between God and man as expressed in the environment. (I once did a whole body of work on the subject, in fact.) There’s an old foundation in Erickson Field Preserve. It was a very small farmhouse; its barn foundation is on the other side. At this point the trail is the old farm track, and there are three small meadows strung along it like tiny pearls. In them are a few old domesticated apple trees and their wild descendants in the woods. There are lilacs, lily-of-the-valley, goutweed, narcissus, daylilies and more still thriving long after their humans have departed. I need to paint this story eventually.
Drying Sails, 9X12, oil on canvasboard, $869 framed.
But for now, I’m a gallerist. This weekend is also the first annual Rockport Donut Festival. Stop by on your way past.
Next weekend, unfortunately, I’ll be closed on Saturday and Tuesday. I’m traveling to Rochester for a memorial service and stopping on my way back to nail down the sites for my Berkshires workshop in August.
Carol L. Douglas Studio and Gallery 394 Commercial Street Rockport, ME 04856 585-201-1558 Sunday: closed Monday: closed Tuesday: Noon-5 Wednesday: Noon-5 Thursday: Noon-5 Friday: Noon-5 Saturday: Noon-5 Or by appointment.
Registration is now open for workshops in 2026! Reserve your spot:
