I believe we are interdependent with the calm, cleansing, sparking spirit of life which strengthens us.
Sara L Tremblay
Nature sends no creature, no man into the world without adding a small excess of his proper quality.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
At 9 yrs old, I studied the sights and sounds of working artists alongside my mother in a college class. Later on, I joined the artists and sat on my mother’s lap in an overfilled bus journeying to see works by the masters. An artistic seed had been planted.
Throughout my childhood, everything circled back to drawing and painting. One summer, on a lake shore in Maine, I took painting lessons from artist Cal Wilson. Piles of paintings were stacked on tables and propped up on walls. They hung high and low. The scent of hot wood from the skeletal porch studio and open tubes of fresh paint laid out on a table was like a bouquet of fragrant roses.
As an adult, I continued formal fine art studies at York County Community College under the instruction of Jill Poyourow, professor from California Institute of the Arts. Also, I was lucky enough to meet friend and mentor, professional artist Heather Lewis. Lewis is the daughter of professional artist parents, Dorothy and well known Jack Lewis of Delaware. Jack was friends with NC Wyeth. This lineal wealth of knowledge continues to be passed on to me.
Most days were spent in the Connecticut woods. During those days of exploration, I developed a deep appreciation for nature. I climbed trees and caressed the soft ridges of bark with my cheeks. On the ground, I squeezed my toes into cool damp moss beds. Below the road, inside a rusty culvert, I caught crayfish and minnows. On bright sunny days, I would lie in the grass and glimpse at gliders as they detached from their lead planes. After those hypnotic moments, I would briefly mourn their disappearances over the fluffy green tree line. My outside world was a private peaceful place.
At age 11, my family moved to the Maine woods. Daily moose sightings broke through the isolation during that first, long, hot summer. Unexpected, one morning, 2 domestic cats emerged from the forest. Over time, while the cats nursed their litters in the shed, I lugged 5 gallon buckets of sparkling mica from an abandoned silver mine to the basement. Upstairs, I danced to “Quiet Riot” and learned the moon walk. One could say they were distractions from my artistic endeavors, but I will tell you these experiences have molded my creative vision.
Many memories of my teen years have been intentionally entombed in the dark hole of my past, but much of high school on the coast is still vivid. Every morning, getting off that bus was like climbing out of a coal mine into the brilliant sun. I took in deep cleansing breaths of salty air. Colorful license plates and flashing brake lights were like fine jewelry. Those starry eyed days ended with me under the canopy of the thick Maine woods. There, in my room, I spent many hours drawing sacred portraits. Certain, I will admit, it was to amend my opposing disposition ;).
For as long as I can remember, I dreamed of getting married. My plan was to raise children, and, then in my 40s begin my career. It all came to light the day I caught the scent of fresh sawdust wafting from a tall, dark, handsome man in a flannel shirt. I flew into his arms, and we were married. We created a beautiful family, and as everyone knows, life is not easy. There are family emergencies, bills, and tragedies like 9-11. A way to release the tension I felt was to paint. Intermittently, I painted scenes on canvases, interior walls, and cabinet panels. However, as the years went by, I lost 2 babies as well as my creative way. A few years after these tragedies, my older children made their start in life. Then, from somewhere within me, that burning desire to paint grew more intense until I could no longer ignore it. Now, as my paintings continually restore my soul I share them with you and hope they will give you peace and joy.