Friday, July 19, 2019

Horseneck Beach in Winter

      Along the south coast of Massachusetts in the small town of Westport, there is a beach.  It’s a beauty.  Located along the western edge of Buzzards Bay and facing south, the two mile stretch of sandy windswept beach is a great spot to catch come rays, dip in the Atlantic and bird watch.  In season, there are more than birds to watch as bikini clad beauties walk, run and play alongside their tanned volleyball toting guys.

detail #1

     I like visiting Horseneck in winter and early spring.  The sun is lower, the color deeper, and the shadows are longer.  In the soft light the sounds of the ocean gently lapping against the shore with a rhythm the seems to match each breath I take.  Swoosh, ahhh, swishh ahhh, swoosh ahhh and each step I take falls into the same quiet song.  In the distance a gull screeches’ a call that echoes along the sand.  The dune are covered with long dead vegetation dancing with every sort blow of the wind.

     I love the soft variations of gray on an
detail #2
overcast morning.  It is sort of counter to everything else I paint.  So, I left my vivid colors alone for a bit, and stayed with the almost muted hues on one winter morning.  There is nothing else along the beach, just me, my sketchbooks and my thoughts.  I tuned in to the dance of light and the cold brisk wind.  My pencil captured the basic value shifts and my heart held to the moment.  To me, this is a soulful painting.


    
detail #3
 My friend, Rene’,  who passed away far to soon, loved this place.  This image reminds me of her overflowing heart, her smile, and her eternal optimism.  An intimate group of friends, stood one spring day, our feet in the ocean, to wish her farewell and pray.



     We printed her name in the sand and waited as the never ending tide washed away our work and the wind dispersed the remnants of her physical self leaving us with our memories and our shared love.

Horseneck Beach in Winter

    The timelessness of the ocean and Horseneck Beach in the winter feed my soul and for a time chose my colors and moved my brush.




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