Happy Summer
Hope you are staying cool?
Here are a few paintings with a summer vibe.
I am on an art hiatus while I wait to get into my new studio.
Waiting is not my best skill. Packing has allowed me to revisit some favorite creations. Hope they bring a carefree smile to your face. In my fall edition I will have new house images and a tour of the studio. Maybe even a hint at my next project.
I am really excited about my next steps.
“Little Pink Houses.” 10” x 10” oil and cold wax on wood panel.
Thinking about cute little beach cottages in the Caribbean or the colorful ways the Irish paint whole rows of houses in a village. Couldn't resist borrowing the John Mellencamp title. Do love a pink house. I even lived in one once.
“Dive.” 9” x 12” oil and cold wax on wood panel.
One summer I stayed on a lake with a boat. We would drive out to the middle of the lake and dive off the bow. Plunging so deep into the cool dark water was exhilarating.
I felt young and free.
“Joy.” 2020. 18” x 24” Acrylic on paper on panel, framed.
This piece is a favorite of mine. I was joyful when painting it. The colors came together. This painting made me dance in the process. There are paintings that feel important for the things they teach me. Some make me proud.
Joy did all of the above.
It makes me happy to see it.
“Postcards.” 2023. 12” x 12” each oil and cold wax on wood panels.
This series is more revelry than my usual dystopian tales. It’s a post card from my travels and a love letter to the places I have been. Most of my life was spent on the coast of New England. Currently, I live in the low country of South Carolina on a barrier island. 2023, I spent six weeks in a small village in county Kerry. I traveled the Wild Atlantic Way. It was new and different yet surprisingly familiar. Ireland’s rugged rocky shores and intensely green pastures captivated me. I walked the path of my ancestors and left a piece of my heart there.
“Whipping in the Wind.” 11”x14” oil on paper.
Something so poetic, nostalgic, and eco-conscious about a clothes line.
My mother had special shoes she wore just to hang clothes. They were lime green and dangerously high. She called them her walking in the wet grass shoes. When ever my feet get wet I think I need those shoes and smile so sure that my mother is smiling, too.
Hope you find a slice of shade and a cool breeze and of course, joy!
Artfully, Susan