I woke up on Thursday morning to bad news. The downtown core of Port Clyde, arguably one of the most picturesque seafaring villages in Maine, had burned down. At the time of this writing, they are still sifting through the ashes.
I am a member of the Red Barn Gallery, which is just across the road. Our season has ended and we were in no danger anyway. However, I do know someone affected directly by the fire, and my heart goes out to him. Moreover, it’s going to change the commercial life of Port Clyde forever. Those beautiful frame buildings will never be rebuilt as they were.
A gallerist at the Red Barn Gallery could entertain herself for hours, sitting at the desk and watching the activity in front of the General Store. I’ve often done it, and I planned on eventually doing a painting from that window. Alas, I started with the back view first, across the water to the lobster co-op. After all, I had all the time in the world, right?
In the same news cycle, I read that the Sycamore Gap Tree in Northumberland, England, had been cut down. A 16-year-old is “in custody and assisting officers with their inquiries,” as my favorite mystery writers put it. I have a relationship with this tree, having hiked the length of Hadrian’s Wall in 2022 (my account of this ramble starts here). The sycamore was photogenic and perfect, nestled into a curve between two rising slopes. That is why it appeared in a prominent scene in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. It won the 2016 England Tree of the Year award, and was a finalist for the 2017 European Tree of the Year. If the lad is the culprit, it was a spectacular example of teenage bad judgment, but nothing will bring the tree back. And I don’t even have a photograph.
On the road into Tenants Harbor there was an old-fashioned lobster pound. These are mostly obsolete; it makes more sense for lobstermen to keep their catch in lobster cars, which are slatted containers that allow sea water to rush through, usually off a floating dock.
A lobster pound was a kind of shallow corral where the lobsters wandered around until it was time for dinner-your dinner, that is. And this one was a classic, so I painted it on one grey, miserable day.
Then one day I was bumping down River Road and the lobster pound was gone. In its place rose a new building that I hear is going to be a seafood market, or something similar. I suppose over time we’ll learn to love it, but right now it’s raw and unfinished. But in this case, I’d managed to catch the old building before it was gone.
About twenty years ago, I painted the rail bridge over the Upper Falls at Letchworth State Park. I’d spent the summer painting there, which meant I had ample time to study the bridge. Built in 1875, it was a slender iron structure, not beautiful, and it always seemed woefully inadequate for modern rail traffic. Apparently the Norfolk Southern felt the same way, because it was finally replaced in 2017.
Sadly, we can never predict what will remain and what will be washed away by the tides of time. That includes people, because the only absolute in life is that it ends someday. Today would be a good day to reflect on how I might act in order to have no regrets when time takes away the people around me, as it inevitably will. And then I’ll shake off this mood and go paint something at Artworks for Humanity. If you’re in Waldo County, ME, stop by.
My 2024 workshops:
- Painting in Paradise: Rockport, ME, July 8-12, 2024.
- Sea & Sky at Schoodic, August 4-9, 2024.
- Find your authentic voice in plein air: Berkshires, August 12-16, 2024.
- Art and Adventure at Sea: Paint Aboard Schooner American Eagle, September 15-19, 2024.
- Immersive In-Person Workshop: Rockport, ME, October 7-11, 2024.
