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Coffee Break, oil on canvas, sold

When I first visited the house that would become my current home, the realtor didn't have much information about it yet, but there were clues that it would be the right place for me.

It was the year 2000 and the owner had been away for a year. We opened the shed behind the house (on the far right in the photo above) to find it crammed full of garden tools. There was a small greenhouse attached to the dining room (where the deck is now) and a basement full of woodworking tools which would become my art studio.

A large rectangular patch of the yard with weeds six feet tall showed the footprint of a neglected vegetable garden. A neighbor said the yard had been productive during World War II as a victory garden. I did a soil test and the results were perfect, so I wasn't deterred by the home inspection showing the house needed everything from new wiring to a new furnace. 

I’ve had many happy years of growing vegetables in the same patch and have enjoyed adding flower beds and berries to the rest of the yard. When people ask what I grow, I smile and say “ask me what I don’t grow, that list is shorter."

Cabbage plants in the garden

Vegetable garden in June

My growth as a gardener has paralleled my growth as an artist. As I get older I realize how much gardening and painting have in common and how much the skills overlap. Both involve inspiration, design, observation (of light, weather, pests),  dealing with challenges, learning, and accepting imperfection.

Both are extremely satisfying.

Carrots and beets from the garden

Growing healthy food and spending time outdoors were my original reasons for gardening. Over the years my focus has shifted toward aesthetics. I use my backyard as a canvas, starting each year with a sketch and a vision of the completed garden in mind, much as I start my paintings. The planning process is a time of hope when I imagine beautiful possibilities.

A page from my garden book, used for planning and keeping notes about what worked or didn't work each year.

In designing the garden, my first consideration is crop rotation (for the health of the plants and the soil). Timing of the planting and harvesting is also important so that all the beans don't arrive at once. Within these constraints I organize the crops based on appearance, height, color, texture, and interaction of the plants with each other. Similarly, with painting, I generally start with sketches to decide on the best composition.

Page from the sketchbook, planning a painting of garlic

Both painting and gardening require me to pay attention to the passage of time, the seasons, and changes in the environment. In gardening I am organizing and orchestrating elements (plants) based on the timing of their blooming or maturing. In painting I'm also organizing elements (subjects of a still life, the position of cows in a field, or trees in a landscape) for the strongest composition.

Just as the appearance of the garden will evolve over the summer, a landscape will change completely throughout the day or as the seasons change. Both activities require that I pay attention to the elements (sun, rain, temperature). I even wear the same clothes for painting as I do for gardening – long sleeves, gloves, boots, sunhat).

Both pursuits have their challenges. In gardening there is only so much I can do and nature will decide the rest. There’s rarely just the right amount of rain. Pests such as slugs, black flies, white flies, will come in waves. I've given up on fighting the squash vine borer and don't grow zucchini any more. Year to year, unpredictably, different plants will thrive and others will fail. I have to accept this.

The artichoke experiment - I got one artichoke out of three large plants.

But the garden amazes me and every year there are many stunning successes.

A bumper crop of grapes

The Brandywine tomato - my favorite variety

As with gardening, some paintings won't succeed. It's part of the learning process. The inability to control the elements necessary for a good painting make it both difficult and fun.

When outdoors, there is usually a challenge - gnats, mosquitos, wind, dark clouds "turning out the lights" on a sunny day in the middle of a painting...

donkeys that want to eat my brushes,

or a random overly-friendly cow.

When working in the studio there are also challenges - remembering the original inspiration for a painting I started months ago, the doorbell, laundry, cooking, or email. But most days, I keep on working, despite the challenges. Some paintings end up in the frustration cupboard as "learning experiences."

BUT

From time to time I'll create a painting that I don't recognize as my own.  A breakthrough!

"Where did that came from? "How did that happen?"

These are the best possible days and the reason I will keep on painting and gardening, slugs and donkeys be damned!

I hope you've enjoyed this blog and, as always, would love to hear your thoughts. I invite you to leave a comment.

 Now, back to the weeding.