Day Lilies and Other Plants

The self-inflated soar

On self engendered thermals.

Below.

Tethered by belief.

Others eye Day Lilies

Short-lived but glorious

Willingly laborious

More for us than me.

Memory of Mountains

A Memory of Mountains

Near Middlebury, where I paint, fields and pastures loll westward.

The lake in the distance shimmers below granite cliffs.

A stand of trees draws a line.

A stone wall crosses – interrupting but briefly.

 The landscape is its own being and cannot be other.

This patchwork of cornrows and lush, verdant grasses,

rich umber furrows where stalks will sprout,

eases the eyes to the deep, ultramarine that is

Champlain.  

Beyond, near Port Henry, mountains rise from the waters –

not gently, as if to ease the soul to higher planes,

severely, demanding to know why you approach.

Once you’ve explored and exhausted all answers,

given yourself to the simple majesty that, millions of years ago,

was the verge of the ocean,

you’ll let go of that to which we cling,

those feeble attempts to dominate the indomitable. 

and

You will embrace your being on the Earth.

You will give thanks.

You will feel grace. 

Crow and Squirrel

The crow flies,
Straight as an arrow.
Her shadow undulates
Crossing the cornfield.

They’ll meet at the ditch
On the side of the road
Where a squirrel lies—
His way to the field
Interrupted by a truck.

more at 

A Brief History of Power

A Brief History of Power
(Clearly Visible as you Cross the Causeway to Rocky Neck) 

Between Norman’s Woe and the Magnolia shore
The financials tower over Boston .
Sparkling in the morning sun,

Striving skyward across the harbor,
The Universalist, St. Ann's, and most humble,
Our Lady, clutches a dragger.

Above all, wind turbines.
Withal, cell towers defer.

Turbines
24 x 18 inches
acrylic/ canvas

 

Soon.
Sails will fill
The harbor will come alive
With flapping white canvas or
Synthetic blends
But aren't all stories.

Summer on the Coast. This acrylic on canvas poked out of its bin in storage.

acrylic/ canvas 36 c 30 inches
for more details email eddsart@gmail.com

Street Dance Under a Gibbous Moon

acrylic/ canvas
48 x 36 inches

Farm Animals

Farm Animals, walnut ink, India Ink and acrylic/ paper 8x8 inches

Art is language. A communication tool that imparts the artist’s understanding or interpretation to an audience but the audience must be amenable to expending effort to understand the language. Translation and interpretation can be difficult but, if the artist has approached his work of interpreting and explaining the subject with honesty, he will disclose and impart information invaluable to his audience—information that contains truths for the artist and the audience. Commonalities.

 
-->
-->

Downtown

Downtown, 2007
acrylic/ canvas 36 x 48 inches
Ins and outs, ups and downs—the center of a town or city is always active
but why do we call it Downtown

Unsubscribe

When I was here they said,
"It's there. There's no there here.
It was when we were here, but
That was then. We're here now."

They're there and there is there
Here is not.

I went. We went. Many left.

They'd left for there
No there here
There and only there.

Fool me once

Thereback I went to where when I was there was here

Late I was
And now it's neither here nor there.

We are not born

We are of, in.

The continuum is

us, you, them

All is, was, will be

-->

Rocky Neck Nights

Rocky Neck Nights 1977, ed touchette

24x30 oil canvas

Rocky Neck Nights (Snippets from memory belying the admonition—If you remember nights on Rocky Neck You Were Not There.)

I had never painted with oils on canvas when I decided to paint a night scene. I’m certain you recognize the nightlife.  The location I knew well—Rocky Neck Avenue at the front of my apartment and studio at the end of Rocky Neck, over the coffee shop that Penny ran, near the entrance to the Railways, next door to George Bleich’s Gallery.

There I was, young, innocent tossed to the wolves at the bitter end of The Neck. Having survived two stints at the Rockaway Hotel could not prepare me for the neighborhood where Casper and Arthur sold costume jewelry by day and by night, entertained a bawdy, raucous crowd at the Studio piano bar. Evie, entertained celebrities at the Rudder. (How I wish I’d been on the Neck  when John and Lionel and Judy performed at the theater.) I did hear Dominic sing Embraceable You, over and over again.  And there was a rumor that a bare breasted trumpeter performed somewhere north of the The Studio. (I dare not be too specific. One character in the infamous novel, In a Place Like No Other,  mentioned that he/ she had married an attorney. Oh, dear, where is Denny Crane when I need him.)

Parker Lee had spent a summer across the street at West Wharf, the rooming house that the harbor eventually reclaimed. Ray Frasier painted clipper ships and David Pollack, set up his director’s chair and umbrella to offer his talents as a portrait painter.

The Beaux Artes Ball in the Lobster House parking lot. The mad man in Captain America underwear climbing the fence to enter without a ticket. So many Carmen Mirandas, you might have thought you had been beamed onto a fruit salad.

The antique shop above the rudder, Tragabigzanda, held treasures suitable for John Smith’s Greek princess for whom the shop was named. The three Turk’s heads were stored safely off shore. Nightly, folks lined the street to wait for a seat at the Rudder to enjoy the world famous clams casino and hopefully hear Evie sing a broadway tune. Anthony Newley frequented the restaurant but I never heard him sing, actually, I never saw him but I’d heard he was there. Similarly, every summer a humongous yacht or motor sailer would dock at the Lobster House. One year it was rumored that Keith Richards was aboard. One year it was rumored that the boat belonged to Ringo Starr or maybe it was, oh, you know, that other famous musician actor whose name I can’t recall. (If you can think of it, let me know, Please.)

So many famous people tied up at the Lobster House it was difficult to sort through the directory. No one ever claimed to have actually seen them and no one has reported seeing John Hays Hammond Junior's lobster boat cruising the harbor without a soul aboard. Nonetheless, the sea monster that lives under Ten Pound Island frequents the harbor and each summer Eric Clapton’s yacht drops anchor near Niles Beach.

Rest

Chair, ed touchette

c 1983

oil/ canvas 25x 22

Sit and rest

It is best 

to rethink your time

Near Middlebury 2003
acrylic/canvas
36" x 60"

A Memory of Mountains 

Near Middlebury, where I paint, fields and pastures loll westward.

The lake in the distance shimmers below granite cliffs.

A stand of trees draws a line.

A stone wall crosses — interrupts, but briefly.

 The landscape is its own being and cannot be other.

This patchwork of cornrows and lush, verdant grasses,

rich umber furrows where stalks will sprout,

eases the eyes to the deep, ultramarine.

That is Champlain.  

Beyond, near Port Henry, mountains rise from the waters. 

Not gently, as if to ease your soul to a higher plane.

Severely, demanding to know why you approach.

Once you’ve explored and exhausted all answers,

given yourself to the simple majesty that once, millions of years ago,

was the verge of the ocean,

you will let go of that to which we cling,

those feeble attempts to dominate the indomitable. 

Reinterpretation of

Near Middlebury 2010

India Ink/ Canson 20 x 24

-->

Recession

Weather Map (new title) acrylic/ canvas 20" x 24"

Recession

The cold recedes leaving the browns of autumn

Behind the barn chickens cluck a welcome to

Spring is nearby. You can recognize the green of early risers.

Hank Baldwin, the resident gardener, readies his tools.

Spring

Not to worry.

Spring is coming. 

Following this storm.

Dance at Winn's Barn, 2013

(Published in the Watershed Review, CSUC, Spring 2018)

acrylic, India ink, Walnut ink, graphite/ Arches 300lb. CP

Living on the Farm

Change your aspect

Regard the world 

As connected.

Edge of the Known Universe, c 1980

28 x 24, oil/ canvas

The edge of the known universe is doubly oxymoronic.

Universe implies all. That would include infinite. 

How arrogant are we to establish a boundary, an edge, a perimeter, asserting our knowledge of the dimension of infinity. Of course, we could argue that by establishing an edge to that which we know, we are implying a continued search as our adventurous spirits will impel forward movement. That would be acceptable.

Adirondack Sunrise, watercolor/ Fabriano 140lb. CP, 9 x 12 (")

Painting in the mountains is peaceful. 

interested in this piece, email

At The Beach

At The Beach, 1982, Watercolor/ cahracoal/ arches 300lb. CP28" x 40"

Another painting from the years at Reeds Wharf

For Sale

email for more information

Sounding

Sounding, c 1981, 22 x 30 inches,
charcoal, acrylic, modeling paste/ Fabriano 140 lb. CP
for sale


No doubt at the top of my list of books to read, reread, and reread n x , is Melville’s Moby Dick.
As I endeavored to understand the engineering aspects of architecture, I gravitated more and more toward literature and painting and drawing.  Moby Dick was a required novel in a literature course I engaged in during my junior year at Rensselaer. Perhaps the best book I’ve ever encountered. I have since reread the novel at least 5 times. Understandable that as I delved into abstraction and expressionism in the Reeds Wharf studio, something like this would surface. (Sorry but the word was there)

Some of these works from the archives are for sale. email me at eddsart@gmail.com to get the art listings

Aiding Sysiphus

Aiding Sisyphus 21” x 30”,

charcoal, white chalk, acrylic/ Fabriano 140lb. CP.

My time in the studio at Reeds Wharf (formerly the Thurn School where Hans Hoffman taught) was devoted more to abstraction and expressionism. My interest in literature has always been keen. During the last months I've revisited the classics, Iliad, Odyssey, Metamorphoses and more. In searching through my archives, I came across this drawing from the late 1970s, early 1980s.

Some of these works from the archives are for sale. email me at eddsart@gmail.com to get the art listings

A Holiday Greeting

                                                   Country Dreams, ed touchette, 
                                                        40 x 30, acrylic/ canvas


Imagine. Sitting in your kitchen or sun room, early morning, gazing at the skeletal maple in the yard and a flock of starlings, European by descent, descend onto the branches of the tree and each, having been coated in a non toxic, brilliant, non GMO pigment, affords the tree the appearance of a holiday greeting and your level of excitement escalates well beyond that usually experienced after your first taste of French roast, and  a bolt from the heavens strikes and the birds become secular, they ascend and fly to a neighborhood near a marsh where power lines offer seating for thousands and the open spaces are more conducive to the masses they prefer to form (some say for warmth others claim these groupings confuse predators) and fly in balls or great clouds of iridescent and/ or fluorescent color, swooping and banking, up and down, colors flashing as crowds gather along the roads leading to the marshes, awed by the spectacle of a giant screen saver painting the skies, arms linked quashing any thoughts of waving Bic lighters that would spoil the impromptu gathering, and even those Catholics enamored of Vatican II would not dare engage a chorus of Kumbaya and disturb this quiet and....Peace.

-->