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Paintings

This is a tiny sketch I made of the bridge on the Henry Hudson Parkway that connects upper Manhattan with the Bronx. The section under the bridge is called Spuyten Duvyl and is where the Harlem River meets the Hudson. Currents in Spuyten Duvyl can be very crazy, and even fast moving boats slew around in them. There is a rock cliff about forty feet high on the north shore of Spuyten Duvyl that kids dive off.

I painted this on a bike ride starting in Central Park NYC. The view is from River Road, which runs along the Hudson on the New Jersey side. It ends at the Boy Scout camp at Alpine NJ, and most bike riders continue the ride on to Piermont or Nyack NY. The round trip to Nyack and back is around sixty miles. Most regulars in the park consider that a short ride.

The image is about actual size, and while I was painting it, standing up by the edge of the road with my bicycle lying there, about twenty passing cyclists asked me if everything was okay.

This is a painting I made shortly after discovering Winslow Homer. I was trying to do a sky that reminded me of his style. It looks nothing like what he did, but it has been a favorite of mine since then.

Years ago I was an avid sailor and I spent a lot of time beating my head against the impossible task of trying to express the feeling of water and sky in my paintings and drawings.

As a sailor and a sailplane pilot I have felt myself in the grip of the weather, utilizing it to my advantage or protecting myself and my craft from it. I've landed my sailplane moments before a storm struck and, once, descending from wave conditions at redline speeds (Wave is the smoothest, silkiest flying there is.) I hit some of the wildest turbulence I ever experienced. My friends on the ground said they could hear the oilcanning as the wings flexed. Speed is control in aircraft, and I had to juggle the need for control with the desire not to have the plane shed its wings in the turbulence. I rode a bucking bronco to the ground and landed okay, though with my heart beating wildly.

Like Joni Mitchell, I've seen clouds from both sides now.


		Paintings
			This is a tiny sketch I made of the bridge on the Henry Hudson Parkway that connects upper Manhattan with the Bronx. The section under the bridge is called Spuyten Duvyl and is where the Harlem River meets the Hudson. Currents in Spuyten Duvyl can be very crazy, and even fast moving boats slew around in them. There is a rock cliff about forty feet high on the north shore of Spuyten Duvyl that kids dive off. I painted this on a bike ride starting in Central Park NYC. The view is from River Road, which runs along the Hudson on the New Jersey side. It ends at the Boy Scout camp at Alpine NJ, and most bike riders continue the ride on to Piermont or Nyack NY. The round trip to Nyack and back is around sixty miles. Most regulars in the park consider that a short ride. The image is about actual size, and while I was painting it, standing up by the edge of the road with my bicycle lying there, about twenty passing cyclists asked me if everything was okay.
			This is a painting I made shortly after discovering Winslow Homer. I was trying to do a sky that reminded me of his style. It looks nothing like what he did, but it has been a favorite of mine since then. Years ago I was an avid sailor and I spent a lot of time beating my head against the impossible task of trying to express the feeling of water and sky in my paintings and drawings. As a sailor and a sailplane pilot I have felt myself in the grip of the weather, utilizing it to my advantage or protecting myself and my craft from it. I've landed my sailplane moments before a storm struck and, once, descending from wave conditions at redline speeds (Wave is the smoothest, silkiest flying there is.) I hit some of the wildest turbulence I ever experienced. My friends on the ground said they could hear the oilcanning as the wings flexed. Speed is control in aircraft, and I had to juggle the need for control with the desire not to have the plane shed its wings in the turbulence. I rode a bucking bronco to the ground and landed okay, though with my heart beating wildly. Like Joni Mitchell, I've seen clouds from both sides now.