in plain sight

The colours of that morning were green, white, ochre, rust, and so many grays— the beautiful palette of a volcanic island under an overcast sky. While Pedro scanned the waters and shore for seabirds, I studied the shapes of the shadows between the rocks. Suddenly with a grin, he asked if I noticed anything interesting about the rocks I had been so focused on. "No," I replied, but then, my eyes caught the tiniest movement.
Do you see it?

peace

For you, for me, for all of us.
Happy 2016!

of snails and nougat

Beneath a string of greened cannons and coloured by a sky with a blue so sharp it hurt the eyes, the Atlantic rolled and crashed against the pitted rock that is the western coast of North Africa. Gulls and gannets, reduced to flashes of white behind its waves, disappeared and reappeared with each turn. It was these waters that gave the Romans their coveted purple, the colour of elitism, the origin of which lies inside the shell of a humble mollusk, the Bolinus brandaris.



Somewhere amid the scent of salt and brine were notes of nut and honey— easily traced to a craggy-faced man in red loafers with a lopsided grin, who was selling bricks of nougat. Without waiting for a response to his offer of a sample, he thrust a nugget into my palm while muttering something about argan, and sauntered off. I had no desire for it, but I popped the sticky crumbs into my mouth anyway.



Oh he knew. He knew I would be hooked.

the one who got away

Years ago, I had this dream. The night was cool and silver, and I walked barefoot along tide pools carved into rocks rough with barnacles. The pools were a deep phthalo green, and nestled in each centre was a fiery red octopus. The dream haunted me for days, and every time it resurfaced in my thoughts, I could feel the sharp sensation of the barnacle shells on the soles of my feet. I tried to capture it all in a drawing, but was unsuccessful.

While walking along the beach in Parede, the dream bubbled up again as I photographed urchins in the tide pools. Secretly I hoped I would find an eight-legged friend in one, but judging by the number of octopus hunters wandering the rocks, I was doubtful— and yet, there's always the one who got away.

tide pools

bird feet

nazaré

The older ladies of Nazaré can still be spotted wearing their traditional knee-length circle skirts with colourful aprons, wooly knitted socks, shawls, and patterned headscarves.

playing with pencil

Lately I've gone back to basics with my sketching, working only in pencil. My goal is to focus on value, to practice with light and shadow. I feel that my drawings and paintings need a lot more contrast.



Now this surprised looking fellow above is not a study in value, but a quick note of the fresco of St. Theodore from the Chapel of St. Basil in Göreme. I wasn't allowed to take a photograph of his wonderful expression, so I stood among the circulating horde of tourists and did my best to capture it.



One of the subjects I tend to run away from drawing or painting is moving water. Here I've tried to get a sense of the crashing waves of the Atlantic, somewhere on the coast of Portugal. It's not that great, but I like the waves in the lower right side. I'm forever telling my students to face their challenges and work through them, and it's time I took my own advice.

Must keep practicing!

farewell, my atlantic

I've licked her salt from my lips in Rhode Island, and ran off with her enamel offerings in my pockets— and Ragan, remember that black night when we watched the horseshoe crabs? Their smooth armour, shining in the moonlight— we were witnessing the stuff of myths, our toes sinking in the sand.

The Atlantic is in my blood. My great-great-great grandad was a Danish sea captain, and named his daughters after the seven seas.



We walked along the barnacle-encrusted tide pools that December day— Pedro counting birds and I, spying on anemones and urchins, with one eye on the crashing green waves. I'll be leaving the Portugal posts behind for now, with this last collection of photographs from the edge of a continent.

of the ocean