Weather–fabulous. Traffic–high. People–diverse and appreciative. Effort–out of all proportion to sales. Sales–zero.

But nothing can spoil two good days spent outside in great company, with interested visitors, and best of all, two new paintings. Each day I started on a blank canvas, using as reference two photographs taken on an Ogunquit trip of a month ago. That makes three Ogunquit paintings, not counting the actual plein air painting done from Marginal Way, with which I am not happy and which you will not glimpse until I am happy with it.

My first Ogunquit painting-from-photograph depicts a view from a floating pier underneath the main action. I mention it now because I’ll probably not get a better chance to make it relevant to the discussion. It’s a bit on the abstract side.

Untitled, 11×14

Saturday’s painting is of a duck motoring out into center of a body of water that lets out into the ocean (Perkins Cove). I was looking down at her from the pedestrian drawbridge that spans that outlet (inlet?), mesmerized by the beautiful effect of the shapes of the eddies and reflections. (I just hope that oil leaks from the heavy boat traffic had nothing to do with creating the beauty.) Passersby kept telling me to stop working on the duck. . . the duck was perfect. . .and finally I agreed. Two people mentioned Van Gogh, and I happily agreed to that too. Very satisfying painting.

Perkins Cove Duck, 11×14

Sunday’s subject was roofs, also as seen from that pedestrian drawbridge. Since the sunlight is coming from the South, you can tell this scene was captured just before lunch. That building with the white globes hanging near the window might be a restaurant, but that’s not where we ate. Now I am wishing we had eaten there–makes a better story.

I’m thinking of adding more utility wires after the paint has set up a little. I like wires.

Ogunquit Oceanview, 12×16

These three paintings represent three very distinct and different takes on water. I hadn’t planned it that way, but isn’t it a fun way of thinking about these three? One really shouldn’t be surprised when water figures importantly in every view of a seaside resort like Ogunquit.

For the third straight year, I intend to show some paintings at the Manchester Art in the Park, and I sure hope that for the first time, we get to show for both Saturday and Sunday. Last year and in 2008, we had deluges on Saturday and very soggy ground on Sunday. Both of those Saturdays had to be cancelled. Can it happen again? Yes, it can.

Hours are ten to five each day. No entry fee. The Park is Veterans Park, between the Superior Courthouse and Elm Street across from the Center of New Hampshire (Radisson Inn).

This year I am trying to act a little smarter maybe. I have made a list of 20 paintings to show, and 19 of them will feature trees and foliage. Experts advise displaying just one type of art at these shows. If an artist shows more than one style, people are confused about who that artist is. (Unless the artist is Picasso, in which case it doesn’t matter.) I decided to go with the foliage because I think my rendering of foliage may be my most distinctive quality.

The one exception is the Point Judith Lighthouse, which still gives me a thrill whenever I gaze at it. I have given it the best, the widest frame I have, hoping to knock your socks off–if you come visit me this weekend at the show.

At the top of this page is the quintessential foliage painting from my collection. It has suffered through five or six name changes since its creation. I painted it from a photograph I took in 2008 while ignoring the overlook part of a scenic overlook on the Kancamangus Highway. What caught my eye was the slight suggestion of a path beckoning me into the forest. I was barely on my feet after a hip replacement, which maybe had something to do with my being drawn to this opening. Weeks later, I was attending a series of Saturday workshops by Peter Granucci on “Fresh Greens”, and he asked us to paint something as homework that used a lot of different greens. This painting was my effort. So its first name was “Green into Green” in recognition of its status as a workshop assignment. Later, I tried to identify the time of year with “The Greening of the Forest in May”. Now I want to focus the viewer’s attention on that opening, so I have been trying “Opening” and “Forest Portal”. Suggestions are definitely welcome.

Another of the chosen 19 is “Homage to Cezanne”, my copy of Cezanne’s “The Bridge at Maincy”. I looked for an image of the original to share with you, and found two different versions–same composition but radically different coloring. That took me back a bit. If anyone out there has seen the original hanging in Paris’ Musee D’Orsay, let me know. Meanwhile, first is a version nothing like mine, then one a little closer to the print I was copying, followed by my own version, the “Homage”.

I am pressed for time, yet I want to stick to the schedule that has developed, whereunder I post a blog entry every Monday. It’s the writing and editing that takes the most time, so for now I am just going to post some photos of exercises that I have done for the class I am taking with Cameron Bennett: Drawing Portraits. Next to each of my drawings is the image that I was trying to replicate, unless there is no image next to my drawing, in which event, I drew that one from life. Hardest is drawing from life, next hardest is drawing from photo, then slightly less hard is replicating someone else’s drawing, but that’s not to say replication is easy. NOT. But it is excellent training for the eye and brain, which is necessary to get a life drawing close to accurate.

This last is my homework for this week, and it is still able to be corrected before I face the teacher.

Saturday I ran three pieces over to the Gallery at 100 Market Street in Portsmouth for a three-month exhibit that begins this week. “Shadows, Late and Long” was one of the three. I painted Shadows recently, using a photograph of a house in Bartlett, taken in 2008 when I was up there in August for a workshop. The house is still there, but it’s a different color (tan) and I no longer see the tree that had made the long shadows two years ago. So glad I got that photo in 2008.

How I know an image is a good one for painting: it remains fresh in my memory–the photograph is only a reminder of the initial impact that it made on me. Sometimes, after capturing an image on camera, I can hardly wait to get home before creating the painting, but usually the photos sit in my digital box until I rummage through them, looking for inspiration.

I have my gallery sitting duties at the Manchester Artists Association Gallery to thank for the rummaging effort. Whenever I go to gallery-sit, I take something with which to make a painting or a drawing, which usually means a couple of photographs for inspiration and the whole plein air kit (backpack with palette, tripod, paints, brushes, etc.) and at least two canvases on which to paint. “Shadows” was the product of one of those sitting sessions. The same session also resulted in the painting below, “Spring Runoff”, from a photo taken in 2009 in Kinsman Notch.

Spring Runoff 14×11

To come home with two such paintings in one six-hour session gives my spirits such a lift. The quality of all the wonderful paintings and photographs in the Gallery probably contributes to my inspiration while painting there. Not one painted in the Gallery has disappointed me.

You can catch me painting at the Gallery on most Saturdays, except that I have completed my scheduled duties for August already. In the Fall, my Saturday mornings at Life Drawing will resume, but chances are that I will be at the Gallery, painting, in the afternoon.

Receptions to be aware of:

Friday Aug. 13 in Portsmouth at the Gallery at 100 Market St: 5 to 7 p.m.

Saturday Aug. 14 in Boston at the Arnold Arboretum Visitors Center: 1 to 3 (includes talk by the artists–there are nine of us; I think we will just answer questions people may have about plein air painting in general or specific ones on exhibit).

Every year, the NH Plein Air group participates in the celebration of Mother Ann Day at the Canterbury Shaker Village in Canterbury, NH. Mother Ann was the founder of the Shaker way of life. We paint from whenever we get there, until three p.m., when the still-wet paintings go on sale. “Wet Paint Sale” as it is called. We can also bring framed paintings previously painted at CSV. I have about six of those but was not organized enough to get them framed for this year’s event, which took place yesterday on Sunday, August 1.

In past years, I have finished as many as three paintings in the single day of the wet paint sale, but this year I decided to try a complex subject and spend the whole day on it. Here is a photo of the “Farm Stand” area before I started on my painting.

Note that the big white barn door was closed and the umbrellas were folded–both would change when the farm stand opened for business. I tried to capture the shadows as they existed at this early hour, and I had to squeeze the composition in order to fit in all the elements that interested me. Here is a shot of the painting when it was more than halfway completed.

From there to finished product, it was only a matter of refinements and details.

CSV: Farm Stand 11×14

My painting did not sell. I put a price on it of $380, which maybe was the highest price there for an unframed painting. Usually I discount a wet painting by 25%, but usually I paint at least 2 in a day, so I thought it would be appropriate to leave the price at $380. I hope price was not a factor in its failing to sell. Or maybe I hope it was the price that kept it from selling.

It’s always hard to predict what will sell and what won’t, but one thing I have observed over my short experience: good paintings sell. (Unfortunately, that does not mean that ALL good paintings sell.) All of the paintings bought from me have been among my best, and I respect the intuitive judgement of the buying public. Hence, I am a little disappointed when Farm Stand was left on table. (Five paintings were sold, so there were at least five people there in the market for a painting.)

What I would like to know from my blog readers–is this painting any good? I can see a problem with perspective in one area, which I will now be able to fix, so that is a good thing. Does it have another flaw that I could correct? Or is the composition so awful that I should wipe it out and start over? Maybe I should have kept the wheelbarrow in, or added people. Could still do that.

Likely moral: For wet paint sales, keep it simple. I shall remember that in the future.