Busy preparing for the "Fresh Air" show starting July 1st at the Newburyport Art Association. This is a group show including seven artists from the Newburyport Ten Plein Air Group. The group has been in existence for over ten years, meeting at interesting sites in the area every Thursday morning from 9am until noon for painting outdoors. When the weather doesn't cooperate the group still gets together to paint at a church in Amesbury along the Merrimac River. It's a great group of artists inviting you to visit the show July 1-14, 2012 and if possible come to the reception July 7, 2012 from 7-9 pm.
I was honored that the group chose my painting Essex Marsh as the background for the show postcard. Here are a few of the plein air studies I plan to put in this show.
The Newmarket Creativity Center art and poetry reception was enjoyed by many people. The poetry reading was very enlightening. It was so much fun for me to hear what the poets wrote after studying my paintings.
Chip Bergeron wrote a poem called "The Old Bridge" for a my painting "Bradford Bridge". The painting was sold that evening in the silent auction. Here is a picture of Chip and his poem.
Chip Bergeron, Poet
THE OLD BRIDGE
Memories are always like this: hazy, indistinct;
I can see engineering-old time, not like it’s done
Concrete on stone footings much wider than the creek.
In the summer it barely flows, but melting snows
Make it in spring a swift freshet, drowning boulders
Otherwise exposed, and rising sometimes to within
Of the bridge bottom. But it always held, and holds
The mind is a funny thing: physical reality is
But the events of a boy’s life around the bridge are
Sharper than sharp, and focused like beams of purest
That will remain uninvented for decades. What
Do you remember fishing there, catching horn-pout and
And the day Andy caught that humungous bass, the one
That was unlucky enough to blunder down from the pond?
In high summer we’d shuck our clothes and jump and
Sometimes diving off the big boulder in the middle.
There was always a deep spot right behind, and boy…
Was that water cold!!! Mom told us to always keep our
Clothes on, but what mothers didn’t know never hurt
It wasn’t as if there was a lot of traffic, and as
long as you
Kept an eye out for girls, nobody minded. We felt so
What about all those skating parties in the winter,
Of swamp hockey and shinny? Or we’d make a long line and
Crack the whip, peeling off in a million directions.
One of the
Big kids would build a fire from fallen branches, and
when we got cold
We could get close, and warm hands, feet and
Would bring hot dogs, boil water for hot chocolate in
a #10 can-
There was never a king who banqueted better in youth’s
So much, so much happened around that bridge. An older
Stole a kiss or two under it. But can a kiss be stolen
actually if it
Was freely given? Those first were far sweeter than
any shared since.
Time obscures. The boy I was then is still a boy. The
The mind remembers what it wants, and it still
The old bridge stands, and though how it stood then is
This old boy sees unhindered the life and the times
that flow beneath.