"View of Mount Washington, Bretton Woods, NH"

The following is the sixth journal entry on February 22nd, of Michael E. Vermette's Artist-in-residency at Crawford Notch at the Appalachian Mountain Club's new Outdoor Highland Center in Crawford Notch State Park and the White Mountain National Forest, New Hampshire. The duration of his residency was a week long, between February 19th to February 25th, 2017. In this time he created 11 painted oil sketches that were made completely outdoors en plein air within the region. Sometimes near the lodge, other times hiking up to 5 miles to and from a site on snowshoes with his studio on his back, he painted in the coldest weather and in the most challenging conditions. On the first day he featured a presentation of the White Mountain Painters and the following week an Open Studio exhibition of his work, displaying two new paintings each day between 4PM and 6PM for the guests at the AMC Highland Center. This is his story.

Easy Does It

There is never an unkind word spoken about the Highland Center's new chief Tony Celli. In fact he is an amazing chief. The lunches there are exquisite even for the most discriminating palate. He and his assistants offer a fresh daily soup with home made bread that they make to order, signature Panini style sandwiches such as "The Crawford", or "the Presidentials", and my favorite "the AMCroobens", which was a Rubens complete with roast beef, swiss cheese, and sauerkraut that satisfied the German cravings in me. I sat down and savored each sweet and delightful morsel as I contemplated my next painting site at the Mount Washington Resort in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire.

With an early lunch taken and feeling quite refreshed, I traveled once again much farther North to the Mount Washington Hotel and Resort. The Mount Washington Hotel is only a 6 minute drive to Mount Washington. So it would be close enough to capture an excellent view since it overshadows the hotel in the apine valley. Once there, I turned right onto the Mount Washington road, also called Fairway drive and took another right just before the white grand hotel to the Bretton Woods Nordic Ski Area. There is a parking lot there with plenty of public parking, being a favorite destination for the locals and guests alike who cross country ski and snow tube. I began to miss my own family as I imagined my wife and grandson staying here and how they would love this place.

With my gear on my back and snowshoes in hand, I stopped at the ski shed, informed the attendant who I was and asked if it would be alright to paint in the golf course. The woman was glad to meet me and very accommodating giving me the OK. She even directed me up a knoll where she thought I would have the best view. But once I snowshoed up there I discovered that there were too many trees and bushes that obstructed the snowy field and I was looking for a simpler foreground. 

I continued on over the small bridge that crossed the Ammomoosuc River then ventured left into the large open field which was the Mount Washington 18 hole golf course. The perfectly manicured lawn was now covered with more than a foot of snow, but surprisingly under the trees it tapered to bare grass. In fact I chose a tall red pine to set up under. It was the first time since last Fall that the legs of my French Resistance plein air easel and trip pod actually touched grass. The site was also completely shaded with just enough reflected light to illuminate my painting board perfectly. I took off my snowshoes and literally settled in for an wonderful afternoon of painting.

This spot had all that I was looking for. It had a few trees that were in the golf course that got smaller as they went back toward the woods. Long deep blue shadows that reached into the view from nearby trees in the foreground, with accents that became smaller throughout the field to describe the lay of the land and a sense of distance. In the extreme left of the painting on the horizon, there was a green golf shed with its triangular roof repeating the mountain's larger compositional shape, an upside down "V" shape that influenced all the other subjects in the painting. The woods that defined the boundaries of the golf course were very dark green with birch tree accents and the most saturated silvery-pink deciduous line of color that I had ever seen. It accented and created a perfect tension in the painting that complemented the rest of the color combinations. This was a stunning view with the light caught in the middle of a appealing weather change. 

I was close enough to make out the buildings atop Mount Washington and many of the deep snow covered ravines that have been carved by the elements of nature for thousands of years. They were snow coated iridescent Pinkish tinted gorges that trailed to the summit and countered the mint open planes caused by the defused light through the clouds. The sky thankfully broke through now and then with bright blue accents. It was a brilliant composition that felt half painted before I even started. The colossal snow-covered precipice generated its own vigor that made it easy to paint. Soon I was finished with my painted sketch in just a few hours followed by many photographs.

When we slow down and define our boundaries as an artist we become larger in purpose. Just like the golf course is defined by the forest's edge of the base of Mount Washington, we too have to set boundaries as painters as to what exactly we are wanting to capture. But when we rush to create, we numb our life from the very spiritual flow that makes paintings great. We allow one emergency after another to make us feel anxious, giving us a sense of urgency. A painting that feels half painted before you begin painting is a well placed and understood idea and composition. It is not forced out of a sense of urgency, but unfolds gently. This afternoon was an opportunity to not only slow down but to regain strength. The kind of strength that slows down enough to consider the creative potential, and that is God like. Because it is a place of "letting go and letting God" so that the natural pace of painting can unfold.

With a few hours to spare I drove farther North to Littleton, New Hampshire to look for some framing brackets because I was running out. I went to quite a few big name hardware stores who's attendants looked at me like I had two heads, and looked even more confused when I presented them with the bracket that I thought was easy to find. I remember considering just how this small part that was so essential to framing my freshly painted sketches was beginning to stress me out with a sense of urgency. I made myself calm down and gathered my thoughts. I thought about how easy the painting of Mount Washington was created because I was rendering it at a nice and easy pace. Then I thought to ask the right questions to a store attendant who had the right tip that would lead me to finding the part.

I discovered that there was a frame shop called GM Fotography & Framing in downtown Littleton. And like a divine appointment, I met George the owner. When I showed him the bracket he knew immediately what I was looking for and he had just enough in stock to meet my need, not one more not one less. Plus he sold them to me for just a few dollars. George had no idea just how much he was my hero that day and how this impacted my open studio display. He was truly instrumental. The point is, there is no situation, place, or painting we're engaged in that can ever benefit from quickly plowing forward. When someone tells us "easy Does It" it doesn't mean to simply, slow down. But it actually is a much deeper wise phrase that means "Easy completes it." It accomplishes the painting, the search, and even more importantly, you as a vulnerable amazingly complex person. If the phrase from the drug culture "Speed Kills" warns us of how velocity can cause us to feel shallow and blocked as an artist, than slowing down and allowing things to unfold naturally can produce strength and depth in our work.

Today became a painting testimony of acquiring strength and depth in my work, a much needed day I chose to fill my wells of inspiration. By the time I returned to the lodge I arrived just in time to witness the sunset behind the Crawford House. I could have aimlessly rush to capture it, but I was content to leave it as a challenge for another day. As Andre Paul Gide, the French author and nobel Prize winner in literature in 1947 once said, "One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time." And I concur, that if you are seeking strength and depth in your work than you can't expect anything good to happen too fast.