Fashionably late again. I’ve been deep into art-related admin tasks. I spent a few days revamping my website (www.maureenmccarron.com) and in the process discovered that my membership page at The NewBridge Project in Newcastle Upon Tyne (https://thenewbridgeproject.com/artist/maureen-mccarron/) is up and running so I’m officially international now and very happy with the results. Today I hope to tackle the essay I need for one of the grants I’m applying for. It would simplify things if these application requirements were more uniform but alas, even the image sizes and resume character counts are different each time. Having to cut my resume down from over 8,000 characters to 2,000 for this particular grant was a trip. Bye Bye New York history, Welcome abbreviated, initialized venue titles.

Speaking of numbers, last week was my second anniversary on Substack. My first post was about Flaco, the owl who escaped from a Manhattan zoo and lived feral for much longer than anyone expected him to. At the time, I only sent it out to 26 people. Today, that post has had 180 views so clearly some of my followers have gone back to read it. So Hello out there! I love that you’re here. You are very much appreciated! In the meantime, two new birds - Scout the parrot above and Atticus the frigate at the top - are framed and ready for my show this spring. I spoke to The Commons about expanding my allotted space and we’ve come up with a few options. Still, I’m teetering on the brink of having too much work, especially since the new ones are bigger than usual. Also, Atticus brings the series full circle since he was inspired by the first of the little charcoal studies, below. This makes my focusing on grant applications right now feel timely, even though I intend to stick with birds and charcoal. Yes, yes, busy busy, lots to do - let’s go! Onward.

Today’s my birthday, and I’ve been thinking about when I turned 60 and left New York. It was a really rough year which started when my seasonal temp job at the gift shop in the Plaza Hotel ended after they’d kept me on two months longer than expected. Then there were other short term situations that culminated in August at the big Kahuna of retail madness - the Barney’s Warehouse Sale. In the meantime, I’d been sucked into a vortex involving the DA’s Office and the Parole Board Commissioner because they wanted me to testify against someone who had assaulted me decades earlier and had come up for parole. THAT is a whole other story. In fact I’ve written an unpublished memoir about it, but once it was over my landlord suddenly offered to pay me to move out of my rent controlled apartment, and in six weeks I found a job and a place to live on Cape Cod, sold almost all of my belongings and then tossed the rest into a UHaul and never looked back. 

It was as if the Cosmos had kept me in New York to testify against my assailant, then let me go. And while I don’t feel trapped like I did back then, I do feel a bit stuck at the moment here in Provincetown, given my stalled plans to move to Newcastle - but there are plenty of things to keep me busy while I wait for the Cosmos to shift again. Such as a possible promotional project for the windows installation and more big birds like the cockatoo at the top and in the screenshot taken to give you a sense of scale. There’s also the same sized parrot below. Both are charcoal on the new paper I bought, which I am currently in love with. I’d thought about adding a touch of color to each of them similar to the pink beak of Zhivago from last week’s post, but I got over that impulse once I started the work. Next one, maybe. Although, in spite of editing the series down to accommodate the gallery walls for my upcoming show, I’m running out of space. I can probably squeeze another one in, and I just got a birthday check in the mail that will cover the framing. So it’s all good, I can wait - Onward.

I started this post during the first day of losing power during the big cyclone bomb blizzard that entirely knocked out electricity on Cape Cod. With hurricane force winds, the storm was terrifying, especially when the transformer blew and turned the predawn sky neon lime green. All of my windows were coated with snow so I couldn’t see what was going on. I also couldn’t open the outside door downstairs because snow had piled up against it. I’ve been through New England blizzard blackouts before, but we usually got power back within 24 hours. Which did not happen this time. 63 hours, without heat, lights, WiFi or a working stove ended with me curled up under a blanket on the sofa in my down coat, a wool hat, a puffy vest over several sweaters, two pairs of leggings and Uggs. When the power came on Wednesday evening, I was desperate for a hot shower but waited until the morning because it was still freezing in my apartment. That shower, and washing my hair, was heaven. And it was only later that day that I learned the full extent of the storm’s impact on Provincetown. Numerous utilities poles had snapped in half or fell over. Live power lines were on the ground, broken tree limbs were everywhere. Repair companies came from others states to help. The team I watched repair the pole across the street were from New Hampshire.

In the meantime, while I was trapped in the house, I did the piece at the top of this post. It’s the biggest bird yet and I titled him Zhivago because of the weather. Right before the storm, I did the landscape above. Paul has convinced me I can combine the landscapes with the birds by hanging them next to each other instead of integrating them into one piece. In fact, while considering how to hang the charcoals for my solo show at the Commons this spring, I saw context and narrative in several groupings. Speaking of context and narrative, here are photographs from the windows project. The side wall on Freeman Street, has the feeling of stained glass church windows. The birds could be saints, although I think of them as guardians. The front facade is more intimate, as the birds address the viewer to welcome them to town or into the building.

I’m happy to report that the Provincetown Office of Tourism sees this as a permanent installation, so if you’re ever on Cape Cod or in town, you will have the chance to take a look for yourself. It’s at 330 Commercial Street, and if you travel from east to west, you can’t miss it. Onward.

Very late with this post, things kept getting in the way, although I do have three new charcoals for you. First is #33, the 22x22” kite above, and whose head is noticeably bigger than my own. Then there are the landscapes inspired by my last UK trip to the ruined Priory in Tynemouth and the mysterious caves further up the coast along the beach cliffs of the bay at Cullercoats. I’m not sure how many landscapes I intend on doing, but I have a vague idea of adding context through narrative to the background of future birds, and perhaps landscapes will work. There’ll be at least two more, and I’ll be breaking out of the square format I’ve been working with for years by using full sheets of large rectangular paper. I will, however, continue using charcoal because I really love the medium. And so far, I don’t miss color or the brush in spite of those reworked paintings from a few weeks ago.

Speaking of those paintings, I sold Jasper, the little hawk from that particular group, at a craft fair I worked at this weekend. The man who bought it was the owner of the gallery here in Provincetown who gave me my first show with the birds. He had been asking for a little crow every time I’d seen him lately, but when he saw the hawk, he didn’t hesitate in saying he’d take it. I believe he held it to his chest for a moment before I wrapped it up. It felt full circle, and I was glad to know Jasper was going to a good home. In the meantime, there’s some news on the window scrim project. The curator did the tweaks I suggested and I schlepped out into the heaps of snow we’ve gotten lately to take pictures. They are still being Photoshopped to fix glare and crooked angles, etc, but I will post them next time, I promise. I may also include a shot from a group show at the Castle Hill Gallery in Truro of me standing next to the bluejay portrait I did last summer. Or maybe not. Either way, onward.

I’m done reworking pieces, although I may at some point go back over the Kite from last week as he is much too tidy now. Paul says he sees this process as my continuing to resolve pieces that weren’t finished instead of reworking them. Semantics. He also says that #15 above, #23 below and #14 at the bottom, are all crackers. He means they really good by the way, and I agree. It would be hard to choose my favorite, I like them each for different reasons. They also signal that I am ready to take what I have learned these last few weeks of combining charcoal with color and move on to the next level. Meaning bigger and on the new, heavier, paper.

In the meantime, I haven’t gone to photograph the building with all my bird scrims in the windows because we, along with everybody else, got buried in snow that hasn’t melted yet. So it’s difficult to go anywhere on foot, which is how I get around. I did get a ride to the Castle Hill Gallery in Truro yesterday to drop off a piece for a group show that opens tomorrow. I have a ride for that as well, it will be nice to get out of the house and wear something fancy on top with my utilitarian snow boots and jeans. But first, taxes. And address the pile of paperwork I have been ignoring. I should give the apartment, especially the studio, a thorough cleaning. I have a powerful urge to throw things away, but later for that. Taxes first - Onward.

I’m a little late this week but I’ve reworked six more pieces. Here are four of them in reverse chronological order. Above is #21, the macaw with a bronzy brown background. Next is #34, below, a kite that was one of the earliest charcoal studies that I painted over and has the same bronzy background as the macaw. Further down is #18, the raven which is one of three with gilded backgrounds. And finally, at the bottom is Jasper, a small wood panel piece from four years ago that belongs with last week’s group. All of the reworked pieces involved a return to the brush, which was inevitable. I’m not giving up charcoal though, but every time I rework something, I want to rework another one.

Why so many? Because the news has been so mind-bogglingly bad and my reaction has been to disappear into the studio to paint. It gives me the illusion of being in control when, out there in the real world, it’s mayhem and chaos. May I just say that the videos and subsequent lies from the powers that be about the content of what I can see with my own eyes has brought me to tears on several occasions. Granted, there’s been the teensiest shift out of DC but not for the right reasons. It’s only more ass-covering and gaslighting. And please don’t get me started on blizzards and Davos.

Whatever. I do have some exciting good news though. You may recall that last year a historical building in Provincetown hung scrims of two of my birds in their front windows. The manager of the building came by my booth at the craft fair last month and then contacted The Commons, who had arranged the original project, to commission ten more. I’m not involved in the hanging of the work but they went with my suggested images. There’s still some tweaking to be done but the installation is impressive. I only have casual snapshots so far, but once they’re finished, I will go by and take better photographs. So, Yay. And onward.

Three new reworks this week, all wood panel paintings. One, Lune above, got a revised title. It was a commission piece, which the client got a hand-embellished giclee of, and which meant it was a gig instead of being done for the joy of it. Joy is not a word I would attribute to it now, but for me it really sings. So does Professor, the middle piece, although he is the first of the birds that I see as sad. He was part of a series of white birds with vivid undertones I did in 2021 and I purposely left him in his undertone state to separate him from the rest of the group. He remained an interesting oddball until I gave him his white coat and inky background two days ago. Now he is my sad little beauty.

One might ask about this palette change. Both Professor and ABE, the eagle below, have taken on a distinct Rembrandt moody density of black against delicate whites - working exclusively with charcoal for the last six months has something to do with this. But honestly, looking back, all the vibrant, defiant color my work was known for had gotten a bit too predictable and easy. Hence the charcoal, which, as I rework the wood panel pieces, are about to be taken to a new level. But the new palette. It’s no secret the bird series started with Trump’s first inauguration and continued through Biden’s term because Trump, lurking and threatening, never went away. I kept painting happy colors as I traipsed back and forth to the UK to visit dear Paul. I even did charcoal pieces while I was there last fall. Then I started reworking some of the charcoals while sliding into the craft fair vortex. Now, as I’m settling back into my studio routine, the world as we know it has plunged into insanity.

Seriously, do you feel safe? Really? That said, with Lune, I’ve crossed out of Rembrandt mode into a full-blown Goya during the Napoleonic War phase. I think about him daubing those sepia and black nightmares directly onto the walls of his house - that terror and rage. I’m not there yet but I feel it coming. However, I have dates for my solo show at The Commons this spring and the aroma of fresh coffee to cheer me up, so, you know, onward.