Sailing HideAway - Here, Hold My Brush!

Tired of chasing your brushes around on the floor?  My video, “Sailing HideAway - Here, Hold My Brush!” is for you.  Made from found materials most pack rats would have stored somewhere, this easel mounted brush holder is easy to make and can be used on a table too! Such a deal! Now, if I can just unglue my fingers, I’ll go paint something. 

 Early Researchers, after moments of careful study, have determined there are three types of Traditional Easel Painters:  Stand up, Sit down, and both.

Most artists, after spending many precious Art Dollars, secretly wish to modify their new easel, but are hesitant to make changes to it. After all, why would you risk messing up this,  professionally designed easel by drilling holes in it and attaching stuff to it that, by their absence, must not be required to achieve the Quality Painting Experience we all seek?

After a while though, the Artist in Making, tires of picking up floor-stored art supplies and living in constant fear of stepping on an open paint tube.  Besides the easel is no longer new, likely paint splattered anyway, and the fine oak floor thus far has escaped desecration.

Thus, the creative wheels turn to making the Art Easel the best it can be, or at least easier on the bending structures of the average human. 

Here’s what I did to mine.

 

If you are a thirsty traveler this   is your palm.  Its  leaves store water and the seeds apparently are edible if you're hungry enough

A Road You Should Take

 It's not about how fast you can traverse this road - It's about slowing down, listening and watching the world around you. So pull up a log or comfy rock and be a part of the scene

Peek - A- Boo Hoodoo

 Have you ever thought you saw something out of the corner of your eye but dismissed it? In Bryce Canyon, you may have glimpsed a very rare Peek-a-Boo Hoodoo. They like to play just at the edge of your vision. Walk slowly, carry a fast camera, and embrace a sense of playful wonder. You will find them.

Do Fish Swim In the Air?

 

Walking along a Blue Springs trail I saw an alligator in flight. Now, grant you, it wasn't a large alligator-maybe five feet or so in length, still, a flying alligator is not something you see in the city.  An embarrassing few moments later, my alleged brain determined alligators can't fly, this one in particular was swimming in a crystal clear spring out flow stream.  Occasionally, you may see a fish do the same thing 

Blue Springs State Park 

Does Your Art Float?

Framing doesn't have to be expensive if you let your creative eye take the lead. In this video, we show you how to transform two deep frames, originally used to display sales performance awards, into high-quality art floater frames. These awards, deemed worthless by their retiring recipient, were headed for the trash—nevertheless with a little vision, they became something extraordinary.

Part of the Artist’s life is about reimagining and repurposing, proving that beauty can be created from the unexpected.

Another example comes from the era of sizzling steaks served on metal platters set on wooden trays at upscale restaurants. When this trend faded, we salvaged a dozen wooden trays with recessed areas meant for the platters. By refinishing the wood and painting miniature landscapes or seascapes in the recessed areas using acrylics, we gave these discarded items a new life.

Jack Pine Garage: The Real Story

                                            Jack Pine Garage and Friendly Service Station

I’ve been told, by someone who knows, that paintings should have a story to tell. Well, here’s mine.  This is the story of the Jack Pine Garage - The Real Story  

In the mid third of the 20^th century a vacation trip was to be endured traveling along on county or state highways of wildly varying construct and maintenance schedules.  Bouncing along in a car equipped with natural air conditioning, usually following a slow moving truck or farm vehicle for millions of miles, while listening to hog futures on your dash mounted, static filled AM radio that was mostly drowned out by squabbling siblings in the back seat. Along the way gasoline stations, road side motor inns, and odd attractions just off the main highway supported the small towns.

 The roadside gas stations offered some degree of repair, enough, usually, to get you back on the road with proper amounts of air, oil and water in the proper places along with clean a windshield. Soda Pop, ice, snacks, candy and local gossip were plentiful.  

 The Jack Pine Garage and Friendly Service Station assigned their youngest son to wash your buggy windows, headlights and grille while an older sibling will fill your front bumper mounted water bag and check your tire pressures.

 The eldest will open your hood to make sure your radiator wasn’t about to explode and that the engine had not deposited an unhealthy amount of oil on the gravel road leading into town.

True, spilled oil does reduce road dust, but that’s Henry’s job and it’s impolite to horn in on his source of income.

  All the while the owner of the Jack Pine Garage and Friendly Service Station considered it his civic duty to inform you of local dinosaurs, two headed snakes and the World’s Largest Pheasant,   (located at the end of the towns’ grass aero plane field). All attractions not to be missed. Then lunch at Mable’s Fine Restaurant, right next to the fire station- You can’t miss it, but if you do, be sure to stop by Colleen’s Collectables Gifts. You’ll see it on your left as you turn around.

The Jack Pine Garage and Friendly Service Station

   The Jack Pine Garage was not officially named after the family. A shocking departure from the norm, rather, the concrete block building occupies land that is greatly favored by straight and tall Jack Pine trees, many of which gossip over the goings on at the Jack Pine Garage.  (The actual name of which was too big to paint on the building).

 Now, Jack, probably not his real name, knew quite few things about cars and mechanical inventions. Since Jack figured everyone knew where the Jack Pine Garage and Friendly Service Station could be found, (Highway 15, Half mile or so from town on the right, just before the intersection of State Highway 281).  Thus, paid advertising was not required in any form including the sign on his building.  Consequently, it was his hand that painted the building’s sign, proving Jack was not as handy with a paint brush as he were a wrench.

Time does not stop long in such places and before you know it the interstate came through and somebody invented shopping malls and corporations built shiny new gas stations where you could get most anything and not be bothered to go out of your way, of course-    at a price inflated higher than your tires. It didn’t help matters that the new interstate turn off to State Highway 281, the one with the fancy gas stations, removed much of Jack’s income possibilities.

 You could drive fast on the interstate without much fear of finding a raccoon stuck under your transmission or a deer in your windshield, however the larger pot holes on the washboard county roads had provided a self-regulating speed control and a major source of income to the Jack Pine Garage and Friendly Service Station.

 The new road, asphalt, of course, used a more modern method of speed control consisting of a white car with two big red cherries on the roof and large emblems on both front doors. The car’s inhabitants of which were happy to invite you to reduce the local citizens’ tax burden.

It got so that the excuse of the new road being so smooth, as it was, the automobile operator could not accurately judge his speed. Such a complaint would induce great amusement for the occupants of the car with the cherries and an expensive piece of paper along with an invitation to visit the County Judge next week, when you have the time, naturally.

 Otto dropped by some time ago now. Said his ole Hudson was overheating again.  “That’s what they’re supposed to do” replied Jack, thinking about the stack of dusty suspension parts stored along the back wall of the garage and the check for which that should have been mailed yesterday.

Jack flushed the radiator, patched the offending pinhole leak and replaced the questionable radiator cap with a shiny new one guaranteed to last a good long while.  Otto decided he didn’t like the car that much anyway, and expressed the same interest in settling the bill, leaving Jack apprehensive about fixing the garage door, broken by an errant children, during the Hudson’s repair.  

 As business fell off, the family drifted from their homestead leaving Otto’s old car in the garage.  If you’re interested, Otto’s car is still there, with a repaired radiator, and runs pretty good, I’m told. Be warned though - the new owners are well aware of its worth, so don’t hold your breath.

 All characters, locations, and subjects are fictitious.  Any relation to reality is unintentional. In case you’re wondering - “Jack Pine” refers to a type of pine tree (Pinus banksiana).

Copyright 2024 matt m maloy  

Where Dreams Sank - Hurricane Milton

You may remember the opening scene on Sailing Hideaway You Tube video   Finding the Other Door

We Parked on secluded, pristine beach on a perfect sunny day launching borrowed kayaks on Boca Ciega Bay. 

I guess we knew all along, it was just a matter of time, before luck raises anchor.

I hesitated to make a video about Hurricanes Milton, Helene and TS Debby.

 It didn’t seem appropriate to make a video of a wrecked marina (Hideaway’s home port for many years) when thousands of homes and businesses were severely damaged or destroyed by these storms. 

Then I remembered that the main purpose of the Sailing Hideaway You Tube channel is to create a record of our sailing life.  The good times have always been entangled with the bad - the successes with the mistakes.  

When life made us landlubbers, we discovered the most difficult obstacle to overcome   when starting something you don’t know much about   is the embarrassment of looking foolish  .

  Like jumping into a cold lake- After you do it a few times   it’s not so bad. 

So with that in mind, the only thing worse is not trying.

Hideaway has come about – we have no idea where we a headed or how to get there – 

Come follow us - it should be interesting – 

Paint Wasters Society: Rediscovering Water Colors

 

Splashing Back to Water Colors

I’ve been away from water color for the better part of 15 years.  Lately, my wife has taken up the sport reminding me of the joys of transparent water color.   

The effort would be easier had I’d remembered that, while they are cousins, water colors and acrylics have different personalities. 

Most Survived 

In my water color days I acquired a startling number of paint in tubes of various sizes and expense. I hadn’t fully realized, to the glee of various suppliers, that all colors come from the primaries.  

Tubes were stored in a fishing tackle box and lost in a closet. Could they still be useable after all years?  Large tubes and small, most were reasonably soft to the squeeze, although, some of the smaller were rocks. 

Surgery was necessary and the rehydration mostly successful. "Professional" grade water color grade paper not so much.  At least, that’s my excuse.   

I've added hot melt glue lines to corral the colors 

As most artist do, I’d acquired several pallets as my need for space increased. I found the best one only after refurbishing the others. (Where did the drywall mud particles come from and why?)  

Paint soaked into the paper- No rescue

I practiced on substandard papers for a while. Frustration the only result.

Where was the sublime joy of color flowing from my brush in a perfect line, dab, or arch?  The effortless perfect stain on the paper – just enough - not too much.    What happened to the transparency you hear so much about?

Searching for answers I came across dozens my early paintings buried in the dregs of the Failure Box.

There's a keeper on the flip side

I’d just received two expensive sets of water color brushes at a low price. Eager to try them, I sacrificed one of my unhappy accident paintings to odd lines, circles and dabs.

What fun!  No pressure! No cost and no worries about failing. After all, the paintings were ready for trash bin anyway.  Occasionally, you may rescue a memory.

Bingo!

I read somewhere that paintings of any kind should be viewed from six feet away and hung at standing height.   In my case, twenty feet seems to work pretty well.  Or at least in a darkened room during a lightning storm.  

Sailboats On Beach- Original Water Color Paperweight
by SailingHideAway

Sailboats On Beach- Original Water Color Paperweight

                                       by SailingHideAway