Plein Air - It's a Wrap

It’s a wrap. It’s done, over, completed and finished – at least for this year.  Solomons Plein Air Festival provided another week of good times with great artists showcasing the beauty of Solomons Island and the surrounding area of lower Calvert County. The only things left of this special event are the memories that have been etched in our minds, the photographs taken, and hopefully some artwork hanging in new homes.  For me, fortunately, there are two new paintings, a lot of dust on my car from repeated trips through the Calvert Marina and some new artist friends.

There’s a lot to reflect on from the week.  This year was different from the previous two as new job responsibilities prevented full dedication to seeking out the artists.  I missed the opportunities, and maybe I’m more grateful for the time I did have to spend with my wife and old and new friends.

The week started off in a familiar setting with the artists being offered an evening cruise on  The Dee of St. Mary’s from the Calvert Marine Museum. This floating party with a real Skipjack operated under sail is a great way to kick off the week, as is the reception that follows.  There has been a tradition of The Blessing of the Brushes, where each artist picks a brush as a memento and a prayer is offered.  Rev. Dottie Yunger recited a poem which really is a blessing of the artists.  

This year she chose

for the artist at the start of day ~o’donohue

May morning be astir with the harvest of night;
Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,  
Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse
That cut right through the surface to a source.

May this be a morning of innocent beginning,
When the gift within you slips clear
Of the sticky web of the personal
With its hurt and its hauntings,
And fixed fortress corners,

A Morning when you become a pure vessel
For what wants to ascend from silence,

May your imagination know
The grace of perfect danger,
To reach beyond imitation,
And the wheel of repetition,                                      
Deep into the call of all
The unfinished and unsolved
Until the veil of the unknown yields
And something original begins
To stir toward your senses
And grow stronger in your heart

In order to come to birth
In a clean line of form,
That claims from time
A rhythm not yet heard,
That calls space to
A different shape.                                                                

May it be its own force field
And dwell uniquely
Between the heart and the light

To surprise the hungry eye
By how deftly it fits
About its secret loss.

~John O’Donohue

There is a lot to reflect on as the adrenaline of covering the festival ebbs. There are two general facets that come into focus as I type here.  First is the camaraderie among the artists and the friendliness they exude. It’s clear that the Plein Air Clan is welcoming and close group. The smiles, handshakes, hugs and lots of banter all show the care they have for one another.  It’s almost a fraternity/sorority feel as they know what it’s like to bear your vision of life to the world.  They each understand what is at stake when you show a vulnerability in a world that is quick to judge and easy to dismiss those that dare to live in the public view.  Not only is their finished work on display, but in the case of Plein Air, they show the process from start to completion while John Q. Public watches, talks and critiques though his art is most likely solely in his imagination.  I appreciate this band of adventurers for their daring and so much more.

This brings me to the second and broader topic. What is it that the artist asks of their self and of us?  What is it that the artist does really?

My take is that artists are first observers, watchers, and inquisitors of the world. They take in a scene that we all pass by during our busy and often mindless days.  I mean that in terms of the daily grind taking its toll on our capacity to notice the details around us.  Our jobs, kids, spouses and friends, finances and health, addictions and obsessions blind us to the world in many ways.  The artist seems to know to be mindful. Mindful of the light, the shape, the drama, the subtlety, color and texture of the life all around us.

Once they take in their surroundings they process the sight into a vision, an imagination of what is before them.  They can show a cloudy day and penetrating wind by color of the skies and the lean of the branches in the tree.  They can show the drama of the surf crashing against the rocks in a way that makes you hear the roar. The pond of lily pads becomes a softer version of the real thing inviting a sense of calm to anyone that beholds the image.  There are countless ways how the painter portrays a new reality.  It might be bold and abstract, the color palette might be minimal with just the right splash of color.  The abstract look through an arson ravaged rooming house may take you back to thinking of what it might have been, yet to someone else it may be the forward look to the phoenix rising from the ashes of a crime.

Each artist sculpts their special and unique view of life and asks us to slow down for a time to journey with them into the possible.  They show us how the world could look, perhaps how it should look.  Sometimes it’s the soft focus, like looking through a slightly frosted window, slowing our heart rate. It might be a colorful look at a face depicting shape and texture asking us to redefine our concept of beauty. A rusty car can be a centerpiece once again either depicting a classic design of years gone by, or the effects of aging on us all.

These intrepid souls of the brush, palette knife, squeegee, finger or q-tip go out in all weather, be it sweltering heat, blowing winds and at times cold and rain to capture that special moment.  I don’t think that they sleep much either. They dare us to rise before the sun, setup to capture the glow, hope and promise of a new day. The setting sun as well is a favorite time to paint in that golden hour of last light casting the final bit of warmth on the subjects of the eye.  Yet, darkness is not 

permission to retire from the pursuit of the next vision and re-imagination.  It merely means more dedication and equipment are required.  The dimly light scenes are painted under battery powered LED lamps, or maybe a small headlamp usually reserved for hikers and campers. These nocturne paintings have a whole new tone to them reminding us that though not lit by the sun, there is still a world to behold by those that venture out seeking more of life.

I love the week of Solomons Plein Air Festival. It’s a really busy week of shooting and posting, and I hope that it in some small way that adds to the event, or at the very least documents the talent represented in this collection of artists. I treasure the way the artists depict the world and how so many of them have shared conversation, and even more just how fun they can be while working on their projects. I count them all as friends, some quiet and reserved, a few quite amusing and several that are just plain fun. 

There is one other facet to address as I wind down. It was announced at the award ceremony that there was a new award this year. 

Joie de vivre, French for joyous living.  It could be the joy, or celebration of anything, such as conversation or a shared meal.  It's really about living everyday with a zest, a comprehensive reverie for life.  The award was sponsored by an artist that withdrew from the competition to care of their spouse who was recently diagnosed with cancer.  This award was presented to a particular artist within the competition that exuded a joy of life and painting. More that sharing who it is, I would rather ask each of us to consider how we each might take a bit more time to be mindful of the beauty and possibility around us.  How might we imagine our canvass, one the epitomizes hope, faith, generosity and kindness each day?  If you were to be diagnosed with or need to care for someone close with a serious illness, how would you exhibit joie de vivre?  Let us all go and shine that light as we just visioned it. 

I’ll be thinking of what to improve for next year, with several thoughts already brewing, and counting the days till I have the pleasure of hanging out with the Plein Air Committee, volunteers, artists and my lovely wife.  

Till we meet again my friends,

Peace,

Brian

Wolf Trapped

The drive to the Wolf Trap started off in the worst way possible.  Arriving home a little later from work than I had planned, Deb and I quickly departed only to come to a complete standstill less than 7 minutes into our drive.  Our poor little town sits on a peninsula and if something gets back up going north, it gets really bad as there are few options to get around the issues.  We basically have just two main roads to get from Lexington Park, MD up to DC.  This wasn’t looking good – at all!

Waze, the GPS enabled routing app came to the rescue.  We had to go maybe 50 yards to the traffic light to make a U turn and drive west to the only other option to head to DC.  It tuned out that Great Mills Road was nearly as bad, but we did get to Route 5 heading to Leonardtown.  An hour, yes a crazy long hour to get 15 miles from our house.  All the while Waze was telling us how much time we lost by displaying the latest projected arrival time out near Vienna, VA.  6:38 then 6:52, fortunately by traveling with a quite heavy right foot we arrived in the crowded entrance just before 7:00 PM.  With 30 minutes before the opening we walked the quarter mile up a hill to reach the park entrance and got in line for some fast food. Only the pork bar-b-que took a little longer so it was nearly quarter after before we had meals to choke down!  Talk about just in time engineering; it was just way to quick and not a great start to what would be a great evening.

Sting, yes, that old guy, former Police front-man, opened with one tune and called out his son Joe to join him.  Joe took over with several of his originals which I’ve never heard.  He’s a wider, heavier – though not heavy, version of Sting with similar, though smoother, vocals than his storied father. His folky sounds were fun, and included a song he created for his children.  Joe called out the warm up band – The Last Bandoleros.  Let me say this simply to start off.. they were awesome, though hard to describe.  I’ll have some links so you can hear them because they defy description.  Honestly, they this odd combination of The Beatles, some solid rock and a little Tex-Mex thrown in for good measure.  They have great 3 part harmonies, and any of 4 of the members could take on lead vocals among the 2 guitars, bass and drums.  Now for some added spice they have a squeeze-box player that could shred right along with the guitars.  They were showman too and were as entertaining to watch as to hear.

They called Sting and Joe out for their last song, which was fun.  Then Sting took on the show after a short intermission.  There was no disappointment there at all.  There were a number of the Police era favorites including Roxane, Spirits in a Material World and Every Little Thing She Does is Magic. He did If I Ever Lose My Faith in You in which there is a line in that says ” You could say I'd lost my belief in our politicians.” The DC regional crowd whooped and hollered hearing that one. They also did the Bowie classic Ashes to Ashes where Sting and Joe shared the lead. There were other Sting classics too, like Fields of Gold, Englishman in NY and Dessert Rose.  The other thing you noticed is that the Last Bandoleros were all up on stage with Joe singing backup, and the squeeze-box player came out on specific songs to add to the songs Sting was performing.  The fun they were having was so evident, that alone was enough to make you smile. Just a great time.. until.

As background at Wolf Trap you have two options. The first is to get lawn tickets and take your chances with the weather.  The second is to have tickets for seating within the Filene Performing Arts Center, or in other words the actual building that has the stage at the bottom.  The Center is an amazing structure and has elevated sections like any other theater, while the bottom of the building it open with columns so stage is visible from the lawn.  Our seats were in a section of the upper tier or Loge. 

The other thing you notice at Wolf Trap is the variety of societal cross-section.  You can just tell there are social elite among the crowd of joe public.  It’s cool like that with one potential problem, and hence my “until comment earlier.

In the Loge, everyone is seated in a pretty steep section so the row below you is enough lower, like a stadium, so you can usually see clearly over the people in front of you.  This works well enough that everyone enjoys the show.  That is until a lower row stands up because the alcohol and song selection demand it. There were three people in the lowest part of our section that stood when Roxanne was started.  I could tell the older gentlemen, in the row below us was really annoyed since he, nor anyone higher up and in back of them (including me) could see the stage.  So if this happens you need to decide if you too want to stand and if the people in back of you might too be upset.  There was at least one other upper section where everyone was standing, while most of the arena was sitting.  I’m sure for many of the performances there protocol and decorum dictate that you remain seated.  There was one empty seat at the end of the row in front of me and the older gent slid down a few seats and was temporarily treated with a view once again.  That didn’t last long though as the 4^th person in the front stood to join in the fun a few songs later.. It gets a little better.

As one song ended and the volume of the music decreased, a guy two row above me yells “PLEASE SIT DOWN.”  The expected response was quick, the folks turned around, looked up and mumbled “no” and continued to stand.  A woman one row up behind us also add  “they can stand if that’s how they enjoy the show.”  Oh, did I mention that she too was standing. Though was on the very end of the row and wasn’t really impeding any others’ view.  The fortunate ending occurred just a song later with the close of the set.  We exited and caught some of the encore on our walk out to beat most of the traffic on the way out.

Before we call this adventure done here are some links to the Last Bandoleros.  The first one gives you an idea of how they sound with Sting.  This one has Joe in the background and Sting’s guitarists (a father and son) are also on stage in the case. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqFunKp24u8

The next one shows off their harmonies and pseudo Beatles, maybe even The Monkeys vibe. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xgo5JfbXaM&list=RD4Xgo5JfbXaM&t=61

Then they can change it up to a Spanish sounding ballad.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iL6H4nJKXo

Hope you enjoyed them.

It was a great night.

Peace,

Brian

Like There's No Tomorrow

It was a beautiful, albeit sad, occasion. The funeral home resided in an old mansion in Langhorne, PA probably dating back to the late 1800s. The viewing was well attended by family and friends, many recalling the memories preserved on the numerous photos placed around the large rooms.  The emotions were familiar to anyone who has attended any similar event.  The mixture of smiles, tears, laughter and solemnity were exactly as you would expect in this situation.  There were differences that stood out as well though.

The numerous Flyers jerseys worn by friends matched that of the one being celebrated and mourned. How fitting, to be yourself on the last day the gathered will see your body, and how spectacular to have a bunch of friends that would join in honoring you and one of your passions.  The passions were well noted in the extraordinary number of photos.  They bore witness in the journey from childhood to wedded couple to father. There were scenes from gymnastics in high school, to fishing and hunting in some later years. There were pictures of riding motorcycles and the wedding and vacations with the whole family at the shore.  The memories were not limited to two-dimensional objects though either.  The old 50 something coupe he loved stood watch from the driveway.  Perhaps the obvious needs to be shared as well.

The love of the man, and by the man, was obvious.  There were just a couple people that verbalized what he meant to them, but the teary red eyes were shared by more than a few.  There were the common phrases overheard again and again, along the lines of – “it’s been too long, it’s good too see you, though I’m sorry it’s under such circumstances.”  The sincerity was as heartfelt as the handshakes and hugs that accompanies the words.

The challenge for us all is to admit to that our lives are lived in seasons.  We drift together and apart for so many valid reasons often without intention and certainly without malice.  Jobs change, our addresses change, simply put, times and circumstances change.  It’s a good and beautiful thing to reconnect.  It’s honest and loving to recognize that you miss your old friends, and it’s glorious to know that our love for one another can bring us all back together even if it might just be for a day.

How many of us walk away from these life celebrations and wonder; Have I made a difference in people’s lives in a way that I too may have a group to gather in my memory? If, like me, you’ve asked that question then what comes next? What’s our call to action, what is it that we are going to do that has purpose and meaning?  What might I change, do more of, do better and, maybe as important, not do, to have a lasting impact on my family, friends, community and the world?

Deb was reading aloud a book on retirement on our drive home.  It was rather ironic that the premise of the book is that having a purpose after retirement is at least as important as the funding that you have in place for your retirement. Isn’t that really the same thing as the set of questions above?  The book talks about how people are often stuck in a routine of their job or career and as a result lose sight of who they truly are.  We tend to identify ourselves by our occupation, and it’s one of the first questions asked of someone we meet.  “What do you do for a living?”  After years of working we tend to identify ourselves by our job choice.  “I’m an electrician.”  “I’m a nurse.”   Yet, that’s just one aspect of who we are.  The book dares us to redefine ourselves for retirement.  While I still need to sort what the full answer to that is for me, in part it will be “I’m a wandering explorer, photographer and blogger wanting to highlight and share the beauty around me.”  I want to be best imperfect partner I can be to my wife. I want to be the compassionate and loyal and enjoy a great meal and good conversation with my friends, old and new alike.

My prayer is that what ever season of life you might be in, or are starting, on this day.  Whether it be a day of celebration, a time of grieving or perhaps a mixture of both, let us remember -

to be kind and forgiving,

recognize the wonder of life,

see the beauty in the world and

love like there’s no tomorrow. 

Peace & Love to you all,

Brian