Recovering A Dream of Adventure
For anyone who knew me when I was a young boy they would describe me as adventurous and very willing to take risks. So when I set up to paint a watercolor of upper Small Falls near Rangeley, Maine, this summer, little did I know that three courageous young boys, navigating around one of the horsetail water features, would invade my picture plane. I decided this would make a great painting composition and in content. It reminded me of myself and my friends from my youth, who were fearless and even a little audacious when on one of our many adventures. I proceeded to take several photos of these enterprising boys and soon after continued my watercolor en plein air without them, because they were soon on to better and more interesting exploits. Later I would combine the spontaneity of the plein air study with the photos to create the painting above. I have recently entered it into the New England Watercolor Society's Instructor's Show along with two of my Allagash Wildeness Waterway watercolors that I did back in August 2020.
And in this season of cover-19, I have been more and more interested in recovering a sense of that adventure, particularly when it comes to my secret dreams and the shame felt in my jealousies from not being able to attain my dreams. when my "I can'ts" have given me a sense of jealousy toward those who actually "Can" I often do feel less than great. For many of us artists though, counting our blessings as it were, is a necessary first step to entertaining creative luxury.
Here is an abbreviated version of what I wrote in my journal in 2009.
On my way home late one night from teaching a watercolor class, I noticed an artist's studio with lights on. The artist was working into the night as I would have liked to do. The community helped this artist out by building a new studio for him about the size of a single car garage. Jealousy immediately welled up in me of the studio I would love to build in the front of my house. I quickly thought, "this artist is not so great", actually feeling not so great myself. It started to make me think of the vision that I've really never had enough courage to build myself, yet I know it would all work out great in the end if I only took the risk. About 4 weeks earlier an elder from the church, actually prophesied a word of God over me, who was showing him that I had owned a storefront in downtown Bangor. It was about that same time that a small store front went up for rent and how I dreamed of what I would do if I had that space. It soon became a novelty shop and that dream was dashed. So, Maybe I'm suppose to build onto my house and now is the time to do it. I can't believe that I haven't built the studio out in front of my house yet. I'm beginning to think that if I do not move with my family off the island reservation where I live, than I would need to expand my current studio for my career as a painter to grow. It might be a luxury for my creativity but necessary for my paintings. If creative living requires the luxury of space, than I haven't treated myself to a new studio in over 20 years.
Twenty-nine years ago I walked through the stick-built walls of my house with my wife. When we finally moved in, my studio was located in the attic. It had no window, just artificial lighting, and freezing cold in the winter, sweltering hot in the summer. Next I moved into the garage and tried to heat it with a kerosene heater, which took over 6 hours. My family helped me to add windows and insulate the garage and that was a big improvement, but it really felt like a studio when I installed my first woodstove. My brother, who was a great carpenter, helped me with my garage, my deck and even gave me the courage to build a playhouse tower for my children. I even built 2 sheds for all of our stuff, but never a studio for myself.
I'd love to have one of the best studio's on Indian Island. I did for 5 weeks on Monhegan Island during my residency there in 1999 at "The Pink House," the Carina House. I'd like a large North Light window, like the one Rockwell Kent built for himself that later I knew as the James Fitzgerald studio. I have even taken pictures of that studio. One with large doors to transport my paintings and other creative projects. I would want something of the square footage of a two car garage so that I can also teach out of it. Retiring from public school teaching to become a full time artist and instructor would be more of a promotion. I'd love to have enough flat files to store all my watercolors and enough drying racks for all my oils. I would also love a large easel on wheels that would roll across a wooden floor as in the Fitzgerald studio on Monhegan Island. Also a rocking chair where I could sit for hours and just look at my art so that it could tell me what needs to be corrected. I would need a foundation but maybe more of a foundation on columns. I would also need a sink hookup and drainage connected.
It's a real dream and I know it would pay for itself in time. So why have I become so sensible?
Recently, this December 2020, I have reread this page in my journal written back in 2009. And one way or another, I am planning on building this new studio next year. I share this with you because I wanted to not only reveal one of my dreams but inspire you to revisit one of yours. It's never too late. All we have to do is recover our sense of adventure, and be as audacious and bold as these boys we're as they took on upper Small Falls. We just need to make a move in that direction, do it with our friends and make a lifetime memory together.
My you revisit your dreams this month and gain the courage to see it through,
Michael E. Vermette
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