Next Wave is a nod to our state's shifting seascape. While lobster traps and buoys will always be emblematic of Maine’s working waterfront, there’s a new tide rising: aquaculture. Kelp, seaweed, oysters, and mussels are increasingly vital to the future of our coastal economy and our marine ecosystems. These sustainable crops aren’t just nourishing our communities—they’re helping to filter our waters, restore habitats, and diversify income for those who work the coast.

My Oil Painting Process: Afternoon Glow

I was drawn to the weathered red shed, not for its boldness, but for its quiet, unbothered presence. It’s the kind of place where someone might store buoys, bait, or a half-finished cup of coffee. Unpretentious. A working space, not curated for charm. And that’s exactly what made me want to paint it.

My goal was calm. Simplicity. I wanted to capture the way the late-day light falls—just so—on the edge of the roof or the side of the shed. That moment when the sun doesn’t flood the scene but gently kisses it before slipping away. I wasn’t aiming for drama. Just the peace in small things.

Of course, that was the intention. But as hard as I try to stay subdued, my vibrant painting style keeps seeping in. It’s just…me. I tell myself: this will be quiet, moody, restrained. And then suddenly the reds are redder, the shadows are glowing, and the whole thing starts humming with a life of its own.

My Oil Painting Process: Creating Cattails

This was foremost an intention and fascination for leading the eye with composition. I was mesmerized by the interplay of height, placement, and variation—it was vital to me that the cattails guided the viewer's eye to what was most important. It was a quiet choreography.

My love affair with the vibrant colors of vegetables didn’t start in my own garden—it all began at a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) near Walden Pond in Massachusetts. Here, in a cellar built into the barn, baskets of all sizes displayed the day’s harvest. Including these green and purple cabbage.

Painting a white Pekin duck in the sun with oil paints is tricky - ANYTHING white is a challenge - but so rewarding! White isn’t just “white” to me—it’s full of soft blues, warm yellows, and even nuances of purple, depending on how the sunlight hits those shapes. The hardest part is capturing those delicate shadows and glimmers of light without making the duck look flat or too gray. I have to be so careful not to overwork the paint and lose that fluffy, sunlit feel. And with oils taking their sweet time to dry, blending is both a blessing and a challenge. But when I finally get that warm sensation of a summer day and a little spark of life in its eye, it feels like magic!

My Oil Painting Process

My admiration of the nuances of vibrant reds was only surpassed by my fascination with the spaces nestled between the berries. In these delicate interstices, one berry met another, casting gentle shadows, that of the composition revealed itself. Crafted around 2005, this painting continues to evoke joy within me even today, hanging in my kitchen.

Blissful captures more than just a picturesque moment in a pasture; it encapsulates the spirit of Wolfe's Neck Center.

This oil painting explores the mesmerizing beauty of oysters. Through vibrant color and thoughtful composition, contrasting oyster shells float against a fluid, water-like background, deliberately set outside their traditional context. The piece invites viewers to explore the oyster’s natural beauty, highlighting its delicate textures and hard shell forms in an unexpected, abstract yet pleasing setting.