Recent Posts
Homecoming Bouquet
Claude Monet, the great French Impressionist painter who created and painted among his magnificent garden at Giverny, once said, “I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.”
I’m not sure I would say it is only flowers that moved me to start painting, but flowers and…clouds, flowers and…vegetables and fruits, flowers and…the shapes of their stems and leaves and seedpods, or the vases they inhabit inside the house.
Here’s a bunch of flowers that I brought home from the farmers market in September. I was inspired to paint them in celebration of the news that a dear friend and former neighbor would be returning to the neighborhood, just down the street from us!
Here they are in one of my favorites vases. Some of you will recognize the hand-painted ceramic pattern from Quimper, France. Somehow it always seems to work well with whatever flowers I put in it.
Speaking of always and flowers, Monet also once said, “I must have flowers, always, and always.”
ReDress: Where Shall I Start?
Everything starts somewhere in time and place. And sometimes it’s hard to say just when and where. So we get to decide: I’ll start the story here. That’s what I’m doing with this post and what I’m calling my “ReDress project,” although it’s fuller title in my mind is “Redress-reDress.” It’s a multi-sided, multi-media’ed exploration […]
Read More...What’s New? One or Two Haiku for You
Self-portrait sketch, ©Sukie Curtis, ink on paper One or two haiku– some days that’s all I can muster– a moment compressed. Man standing knee deep, Fishing rod flashes sunlight– Not one fish nibbles. I often think I will try to write at least one haiku every day, but I’m not that good […]
Read More...View from Islesford, Maine painting
Painted last year after David and I enjoyed a long weekend in a beloved spot on Little Cranberry Island, Maine, this view is a slightly fanciful version of the real thing–looking from Islesford across the Eastern Way toward Mt. Desert Island and Acadia National Park. The rounded profiles of the Bubbles, perhaps slightly exaggerated (who […]
Read More...Rowboat Song
Rowboat Song My song is for the rowboat hauled out for winter, listing in a sea of leaves. I love her lines, the graceful beauty of her usefulness. But even more I love the way she carries the music of my father, his summertime humming and the ringing of brass oarlocks dangling […]
Read More...Remembering My Father’s Slide Rule
My father was an engineer who died before the advent of pocket calculators, personal computers, and smart phones. Often when he came home from work, his slide rule was still nestled in the pocket of his white button-down shirt. I am embarrassed and even a bit ashamed to admit that I have never used a […]
Read More...Meet Gould’s Pandora
Most of the shells that wash up on a nearby beach are species familiar to me from my childhood: mussels in shades of blue like Chinese porcelain, clams of various species (surf, razor, Quahogs, among others), slipper shells (a.k.a. boat shells), lots of periwinkles, and the very occasional whole moon snail. This year I have […]
Read More...Remembering My Dad on his birthday
Today is my father’s birthday–his 102nd to be precise. My dad died a long time ago, thirty-eight years ago, when he was only 64 and I was only 25. A few years ago I wrote a blog post about him that I am linking to below. And I hope to add some more posts […]
Read More...Poem: A Snowy Afternoon
The Snowy Afternoon That snowy afternoon a galaxy appeared on your dog’s black back while we talked. Stars took their places, planets, whole constellations gathered there, marvelous as a meteor shower, until with a few friendly, unthinking strokes I wiped the whole sky clean, and it began to fill again. It seemed the kind of […]
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