Clouds and dark descend
and day lifts from the lake
now heaven is earth.
Prints can be purchased on Etsy here.
Author: Picking My Battles
Snow Days
Winter Wondering, 9×12, Watercolor
I love snowy days when the whole world seems quiet. maybe not truly at peace, but just enough silence to let a body stop and think.
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Blizzards and Other Things
Summer Storm, 9×12
It’s a painting day today. It’s also blizzard day, and I’m happy about it’s a painting day today. It’s also blizzard day, and I’m happy about both of those things.
We went to have brunch before we got snowed in, and I’m sure the scenery from the driver figure into paintings somewhere today, but for the moment I have the other extreme–summer–on the brain.
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One Thermal Mama
Geothermal Mama, 9×12, Watercolor
One of the many things I love about Iceland is how beautifully it proves that a woman (or at least this part of her) can be 20 million years old, and still be one hot mama.
Prints can be purchased on Etsy here.
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Upstate of Mind
The other night T1 was driving the two of us towards Saratoga Springs to get him a haircut and a pair of pants without holes to wear to his college interview.
The area is pretty densely settled with farms and homes, and there aren’t many uninterrupted vistas. As we neared the top of a hill, the sun sank behind the clouds, casting a glow and silhouetting scrawny trees that bordered an abandoned farm that was not yet ready to surrender to the earth – a perfect interruption.
I’m a pretty confirmed agnostic – the only thing I know for sure is that I know nothing – but as I thought about all the treasures humans unmake, that they think they can remake better or even live without, I caught myself whispering “only God can make a sunset.”
Prints can be purchased on Etsy here.
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New York States of Mind
Upstate State of Mind, 9×12, Watercolor
Gershwin and Copland were at the top of the playlist last night, and I was in a New York State of mind, thinking about how these two children of immigrants fleeing persecution expanded our musical legacy with contributions that captured the optimism and possibilities of America.
I kicked off with Rhapsody in Blue to help my head try and find its way back to a vivid sunset we enjoyed a few nights ago as we drove through New York’s Capital Region. T1 was driving, letting Mom focus on sinking sun behind the snowy, rolling hills, dotted with farms. I marveled as I always do that we were driving through the same state that holds one of the biggest cities in the world.
I’ve lived in New England for over 20 years–the longest I’ve lived anywhere in my entire life. My parents lived abroad a couple times when I was a kid and moved within the US. When I left home, I kept traveling and moving.
I love the New England, but despite the long residence, I never felt that it – or any place – was home. I’ve rarely been any place that I didn’t fall in love with for a time, but the ants in my pants never completely leave me alone. I’m always ready to try a new food or hear the music of another language — for a new adventure.
It’s one reason, that the place that most feels like home is New York state. Ten minutes from the house, it’s close enough for a get away to Saratoga or Albany. Between the Capital Region and nearby Adirondacks the state offers enough diverse activity to quench – for a little while – my wanderlust with an occasional day trip. It turns something as mundane as a snowy sunset over an Appalachian foothill into a reminder of the world of possible adventures — from Manhattan to Niagra Falls — just over the state line.
Possibility is a powerful aphrodisiac. Almost as heady as the adventure itself.
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An Easy Winter
Cold River 9×12, Watercolor
I avoided learning to paint snow for as long as I possibly could. In watercolor, white is about what you don’t meet, and the challenge of leaving the right parts blank seemed too daunting last year.
Last year we hardly had any snow, and I was content to paint the dormant fields and forests.
This year we’ve had a bit more snow, but it’s been an easy winter — on and off the paper.
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Because They’re Watching
Just Fun, 12 x 16
Did I mention I dance when I paint? Sometimes it’s fun and yields stuff I want to hang on the wall. Other times it’s just fun.
The kids were treated to it the other night – their reward for telling me my studio needed to be closer to them. There were a few eye rolls when they poked their heads in, but I kept dancing (and painting). I’m not doing it in spite of them watching. I’m dancing because they’re watching.
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Ice Storm
Iced Storm, 11×14, $100 matted
The last two winters in our corner of Vermont have been unusually warm, with ice storms rather than good old fashioned blizzards punctuating the season. Did I mention missing the blizzards?
The ice storms are fascinating too. I don’t know why, but I hear the wind better without the foot or two of snow on the roof acting as a buffer, and Mother Nature is howling angry about something these days.
Questions or to buy any of my work email me at rachel@rachelbarlow.com
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Everything
Minimalist Winter
Last fall T1 was diagnosed with an auto immune disorder that will require him to be on medication for the rest of his life. we weren’t jumping for joy, but we have good health insurance, and we knew that he could stay on until he was 26 or, until he was a job that offered coverage. it was a disorder, but it was manageable, and, for all its faults, the Affordable Care Act insured that his pre-existing condition would not prevent him from getting insurance in the future.
The last few days, as executive orders have been flying fast and furious, a vaguely worded repeal of the Affordable Care Act threatens to jeopardize both of T1’s future lifelines, and I have struggled to keep my thoughts on anything but how to protect my son’s health now and over the next few years as he takes the next steps towards adulthood.
I’ve always been sympathetic towards others with chronic illnesses or conditions that used to keep them from being insurable and grateful for the insurance we do have, but I don’t think I have ever truly empathized with what the constant strategizing must be like, and I’m ashamed of having not fought harder for T1 and for others. It’s something I intend to change.
Tonight may not be the moment to fight, but it seemed like a good night to tackle something I can control – a paint brush. Creating is such a little thing, and yet, right now it’s everything.
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Things I can’t Control
Dust Devils, 9×12, Watercolor
These are dust devils in eastern Washington. They rise up from the dusty Palouse and wheat fields especially after the wheat has just been harvested.
I love them because they are proof that, even though, on the surface, the land has been thoroughly tamed by humans, there are some things we can’t control.
Each time I see them they inspire awe. Also, the recognition of dust bunnies … I mean Devils … as something that can’t be controlled is a great metaphor for the way I keep my house.
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Highway to Eyjafjallajökull
The highway to the volcano Hekkla, once known as the gateway to hell, was closed when we were in Iceland in the fall, as an increase in seismic activity had the geologists concerned that the eruption which had been overdue should be upgraded to status imminent.
We didn’t get to see any eruptions, but we did get a look at Hekkla’s sister, Eyjafjallajökull, which had been slightly hellish just a few years ago. From where we stood, however, the road to hell was gorgeous.
I found myself painting this a few times in my watercolor journal and again when I got home, and the results were always similar. The paintings were never faithful copied of my photographs but, rather interpretations of the vivid beauty and vastness of land that had been ravaged but then recovered.
I kept coming back to that theme of land and people recovering and digging out from the ashes, stronger than before. I go back to it even now, months later, and it helps me to temper my fears.
Picking My Battles 