Gloves

I find a lot of gloves- rubber gloves, woven gripped fishing gloves, kitchen gloves, wetsuit gloves. their cut up pieces make it into many of my paintings- but, maybe I should actually be wearing them!

Chasers

The Nor’easter raged on into its second day but began to subside enough by late afternoon that we could take to the streets- along with all the other storm chasers in Hull- which is a good portion of the town’s population. It would not be uncommon to find more cars on the road at the tail end of a storm than peak commuter times. There is this sense of wild excitement, watching the onslaught of driving waves pound and explode against and over the sea walls. Exclamations erupt at the sight of water filling the soccer field and flooding the marsh or cascading over roads and barriers.

As the ocean subsides past the high tide mark, we fight the wind and venture out on the rocky shore of the gut to see what has accumulated at the trash line. Sadly, there is all manner of debris- the usual suspects: lobster traps and accompanying rope bundles, nets, buoys, plastic shards and bits, plastic bottles and caps, etc, etc. We bag up what we can, holding aside what I may be able to work with.

One of those moments

Like all special places, this section of beach is always in flux, its beauty ever changing and never quite capable of being captured fully in a photo. I see this beach at sunrise and sunset, at high tide and low- and everything in between, and through every season of the year. I collect trash for my work here and trash for the trash, I find artifacts for collections and intriguing bits of wood too good not to bring home. My son surfs here, we swim and walk and play. In other words, I know this beach well. But every now and then, X street beach offers a truly remarkable sight that outpaces all the other many moments of breathtaking wonder. This photo captures one such instance.

The beach’s regulars who act as stewards, including my family, create structures from the endless mounds of stones that pile particularly high in one area. My son will spend hours building stone walls and huts adjacent to other fortifications decorated with painted rocks, old Adirondack chairs, fire pits, stone pillars, and a perfectly symmetrical labyrinth as seen below coated by marshmallow snow, shimmering in the morning sun. A spectacular sight.

Company

Painting took a back seat over the last few weeks but I was finally able to use all my cut up hose bits together with finds from Plum Island- boat bladder and rope- to finish the piece. And always with me while I work and explore the beaches are my best little buds Obi and Lucy. They are old now- cranky and a bit creaky, a little bit deaf but always with me. In the photo below, Lucy is just a moment away from knocking the painting with her big head and I only just managed to catch it before it crashed forward to the ground. Lucy is also adept at stepping in paint and tracking it around the house or walking over a work in progress- but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Plum Island Explorations

There is such an amazing expanse of beach on Plum Island. A perfect escape on a cold winter’s day and of course, I couldn’t go home empty handed. A whole gnarled mass of rope, fishing net, and lobster trap fragments filled the trunk.

Out with the old, in with the new

Happy New Year! It’s been a busy few weeks. Not a lot of art has happened but there has been much creation of gifts and decorations, small and cozy celebrations with friends and family, and trash collection.

The branch ‘Christmas tree’ pictured below has become a bit of a family tradition- not that I don’t love a good fir but it has always felt good, taking something that is already dead and languishing in a brush pile in the yard, then bringing it to life with lights and ornaments. I think I will leave it up for a little while along with the giant stick star that I mounted to the roof.

Spinnaker

I drive by Spinnaker Island at least four times a day and with each passing it looks so wildly different depending on the light and mood of the ocean and sky. And though I pass by often, I rarely stop to take a photo because I am usually in a rush or there is someone behind me and I cannot pull over or a dozen other excuses. Today was no different. I gazed in awe at the light casting shadow upon the island, the stark bridge across the calm water and the peaceful geese wading. Then, I turned around. It is 20 degrees out and I really didn’t feel like pulling over and leaving my warm car to snap a few photos but I am happy I did and vow to myself to make it more of a habit

Whiff

I have developed the habit of smelling the trash I collect before it gets the all clear to go into the keep bag but sometimes a pungent piece escapes my nose. Now, I don’t mind the smell of the sea. If brininess bothered me, I would have a big problem! Some trash, though, has a smell that is beyond words repulsive- some kind of combination between chemical decomposing dead thing marinated in sewer. Maybe a few of you know what I mean? It is a smell that lingers long and stubbornly in the nostrils.

These smelly pieces always seem to be special finds that I am excited to add to the trash collection so I bring them into the studio anyways, hoping that somehow the smell will dissipate once inside- it never does. After comments from my family, I pull the offending piece/s and put them outside in a line of other poor evicted trash souls but sadly, none have made it back inside- they are just too smelly.

Other pieces are borderline. They do smell but are not totally repulsive and so they stay and are used but every now and then, I will pause and sniff a painting- just to make sure that the bad whiff I just got was from my son’s rotting smelly shoes and not a bit of offending trash.

A Bit of Prep

I’ve had these old hoses/rubber tubes in my collection for a while and I began the long process of cutting them into little cross sections. I’m not exactly sure what I will be doing with them but I am pretty sure that they will play a central role in my next work. Cutting these babies is not easy though. The Black rubber has rubbed off on my sore hands, so here’s hoping it will be worth it. There is always the chance and the fear that I will put in all this time and effort only to be disappointed by the outcome- I just have to remind myself that it’s all part of the process.

Morning on Nantasket Beach

It may be 28 degrees but the sunrise doesn’t care

Trash After the Storm

This particular beach below my house is a catch all for rope, lobster traps, lumber (much of which is treated), and the usual suspects; plastic bottles, cans, Styrofoam, etc. It’s like the Hotel California for ocean pollution- once it’s tossed up onto the rocks and beyond, it never leaves (unless I take it!). And after each big storm, new rubble always accumulates. Saturday’s nearly nor’easter was no exception.

Obi Shoot

Finishing up my current rope painting (I say painting out of habit but actually these current works are more painting/collage/installation, maybe?) and paused for a photo shoot with Obi, my 13 year old chihuahua/schipperke rescued 12 years ago from a Georgia pound. He has moved with us to Ireland and back, into and out of 14 homes, and traversed up and down countless mountains. He is more than a loyal buddy, he is truly family with a bright beautiful soul.

CLEAN UP in the studio

It doesn’t take long for the studio to become, literally, trashed. And trash isn’t the easiest thing to clean. Every time I bring a new haul in, I think, “am I crazy?”. But, I am passionate about the work that I am doing and compelled by a creative drive and fierce protectiveness of the ocean; its wildlife, and beauty.

Small Victories

Sometimes, I find the odd quick project so satisfying. Art is ongoing, continuous- there is no real beginning or end. I have a seemingly endless amount of house work to accomplish and not the cleaning upkeep kind- I mean the finish carpentry kind: building the master closet, building closet door, finishing baseboard, building floating shelves, building the vanity/counter in my studio from driftwood lumber I nearly killed myself cutting up and dragging off the beach with my poor husband, and most recently- building the chicken coop. This is no ordinary coop. I couldn’t make life that easy on myself. No, it is a chicken palace clad in tongue and groove cedar to match our contemporary home that I designed and have my hand in almost every element of its construction. And this coop is taking a long time.

Yesterday, Sunday, it was painfully cold and windy so I gave myself the day off from the coop build, constructing instead a table that I dreamed up a few nights ago. I had been searching for a second hand piece for that space for months but nothing seemed right. So, as I do way too often, I decided I would whip something up. Normally when I say ‘whip something up’, it usually ends up being a much bigger endeavour than intended but too my delight, this went as planned.

I use chip board for as many projects as possible. For one, I like the look. Also, it doesn’t’ require whole trees to make like normal plywood. It is manufactured from leftover bits and is very strong. Yesterday afternoon, I came home from the lumber yard at 2pm and by 4:30, I had cut, constructed, and assemebled the table I had envisioned. It feels great! A bit of decorating with my favorite objects to off set and highlight the driftwood mythical bull skull I made that hangs above, and the space will look great.

X,Y,Z STREET BEACH

Sunny morning stroll on my favorite corner of Nantasket Beach. It’s a catch all here for waves, wildlife, and unfortunately trash. Something about the ocean floor and the currents in this little cove contributes to the unusual amount of debris that washes up. Everyday it changes. We arrive sometimes to find a slew of golf balls or thousands of peach pits, small perfectly smoothed nuggets of driftwood or hordes of cans and plastic bottles. It seems as though the sea right here has a very distinct and active personality.

Beaver Moon

Blackrock beach; Cohasset

We were heading back into Hull for a quick jaunt on our beach but the startling full moon (beaver moon, I think) halted us in our tracks at Blackrock beach. Instead of focusing my attention, on the trash line, I embraced the settling evening and rock throwing contests with my son and husband in the glow of a moon that no picture can do justice to.

ROPE

crisp and cold, moderate waves, green hued ocean, bright blue sky

Today I harvested fishing rope. I say harvested because there is so much of it that it binds, gags, and seems to grow out of the rocks and sand. The unbound rope I most often find in the form of discarded knots. Thousands of them wash up with every tide and after discussing the phenomena with many sea savvy folk, I learned that they are cut off by fishermen and throw overboard.

I know fisherman. My great uncle from Sicily was a commercial fisherman whose tales and troubles and the simple reality of fishing I have known my whole life. Yet, it is hard for me to reconcile the debris they are responsible for with the the good nature of those I know. I understand the harsh conditions at sea. Untying knots is time consuming and difficult in the cold so, cut away, I say. But please don’t through the knots overboard!

Like so much of the beach debris I work with, the rope has beauty when it is no longer an environmental threat. I have been inspired by the knots and gnarls of rope to create a piece of work that transforms ocean pollution into art while bringing to light the problem of fishing debris. My hands though are paying the price! I never knew about rope splinters- this stuff is harsh and hard and I have more than a few blisters to show for my work!

IN THE BLUE

Bright crisp cold Sunday morning on the beach. The high ground in the amongst the salt water rushes catches debris. Specks of blue Styrofoam dock stand out against the natural earthy hues, each one degrading into microplastic pollution, each a fish doppelganger ripe for a seagulls picking.

My son collects with me, excited about his trash finds that he adds to my bag.

Off the beach, the collection of blue have a gemstone like quality, weathered and vibrant at the same time. something about them being laid out in a grid simply and honestly against a white background is striking in my mind. A little pop of pink cut from the child’s Disney flip flop I recovered will be just enough to offset the sea of blue.