Winter Islands in Snow: in Search of Winslow Homer

After visiting Winslow Homer's house/studio earlier this winter, I wanted to find his light. He often chose to paint under stormy skies, capturing a rough sea. That's a bit easier to do if your studio has a covered porch overlooking the water. I imagined this is how Winslow Homer would have seen my part of Maine.

On summer days I've often driven to Lookout Point to paint watercolors. My studio travels with me.

While painting, I've wondered what the islands would like under stormy skies and snow.

After a winter storm, I usually grab my skis and head into the woods. This time I took my camera and drove eight miles to the sea.

Allen's Seafood lobster shack was transformed under a frosting of snow.

The dock took on a level of abstraction, so quiet and empty, like a ghost town.

Even the trees seemed to shiver in the bitter cold.

The sea was nothing like I'd ever seen before: Arctic, forlorn. The wind was something else. I could barely hold the camera steady, bracing my feet against the ice. I had to take breaks to warm up in the car.

Then as suddenly as the storm had blown in, the sun broke through the clouds.

The stormy coast was now tamed, but I'm glad I saw it in the wild of winter. One day I shall paint this wintery scene too, but not on location! At this time of year, I'm writing in my office or reading by the fire. Winslow Homer is influencing my new novel too, insinuating his dramatic imagery upon the page. 

A Sailboat Painting of Maine: how to capture a dream

My paintings usually start on location, but my latest commission began with a google search. The client, who lives in the Washington DC area and vacations in Maine, had found me through a keyword search for painters of sailboats. She described her dream:

"For twenty two years, I've closed my eyes each night and pictured my little house on the coast, the front porch, the late afternoon sails on my little boat. Thinking of those things brought me the most peaceful feeling."

I usually paint from life, but sailboats move too fast to sketch accurately. While visiting my family on Nantucket Island, I headed to the Rainbow Parade with my DSLR Nikon camera. From Brant Point I was close enough to capture the old wooden boats sailing past the lighthouse. I couldn't simply copy the photo because the client asked for a Maine background and Nantucket Island is in Massachusetts.

Maine is farther north and has a different feel: the islands are rocky and coniferous. The day I set out to paint at Lookout Point, the sky turned an ominous grey as the tide was falling.

I worked quickly but the sea became mudflats as raindrops fell, blurring the paint. In the rush to finish, I'd also gone too dark. Watercolor is the most challenging of all paint media because there is no way to fix a mistake. You can go darker, but you can't go lighter. My painting was a disaster.

I cut my losses by picking up a couple of lobsters. Allen's Seafood at Lookout Point sells them live off the docks at $5 a pound. My client is a professional chef so I felt she'd understand.

My husband boiled the soft shell lobsters on the barbecue and picked them out of their shells. He'd bought a bouquet of calla lilies to cheer me up.

A fresh farmers' market salad, baked potatoes and locally brewed Shipyard Ale rounded out the meal. It was a happy ending to a disappointing day.

Another day, another attempt, this time at home. It was getting too chilly to work outside. I set up my laptop with the Nantucket sailboat photo and propped up a more successful watercolor of mine of Lookout Point. Blending memory and imagination, I merged the images in my head.

Before painting a watercolor, I do several gesture drawings in a sketch book. These 30 second ink sketches of the main elements allow me to test several compositions before committing to paint.

Once I've chosen the layout, I transpose the sketch in pencil with more detail to heavy weight paper taped to board. Then I mix my colors and slip into a meditative trance. Two days later the painting was complete.

The penultimate stop was the framers in Topsham. I usually frame watercolors in natural wood, but this client had decorating restrictions. My watercolor might hang with family heirlooms in gold gilt frames or beside other pictures framed in black-painted wood. I emailed photos of the options. Since it was hard to visualize how well this would integrate in her new home, she decided to use her local framer.

UPS fragile packed the painting, but my work wasn't over. Once I've finished the first draft of my novel, I'll begin work on a companion watercolor for this client. (Thanks, Dad, for mailing a photo of a moored gaff rigged yacht). It's a wonderful feeling to capture a dream.