Motif #1 (the backside), Labor Day weekend, 2025

I spent this past Labor Day weekend in Rockport, MA and reacquainted myself with the iconic “Motif #1” a buoy-festooned fisherman’s shack sitting on a wharf near the entrance to Bearskin Neck. I hadn’t ventured here in many years - probably since before the Blizzard of 78 which wiped out the salty old shack, along with other New England coastal icons like the Outermost House on Nauset Beach and the SS Peter Stuyvesant which was docked at Anthony’s Pier 4 restaurant in Boston. Unlike those two victims, this place was rebuilt and painted with a carefully chosen red pigment that appears weathered even when freshly applied. Such is the power of tourism.

They say that this humble building is the most often-painted building in America. If that’s true, I can’t help but wonder why. Sure, it’s pretty and quaint (my friend Terry would deem it “cunnin’), but it’s not the first place in this beautiful area I would rush to capture on canvas, film or in pixels. Is it nostalgia? A memory of simpler and more humble times? Or is it another piece in the American mythology - like Mt. Rushmore, Disneyland or Fenway Park? No matter - Motif #1 does appear to be a shared affection by many art-lovers, and the choices of subjects made by art makers can certainly be elusive and ofttimes confusing…even to the artist themselves.

Ruminating further on this upon returning to my own studio, I began to wonder if I had my own personal “Motif #1” and didn’t even realize it. The answer, as it happens, sat right in front of me, drying on a shelf.

I painted this small canvas just a couple of weeks ago, from old drawings done in the early 1980’s. It is of my great-uncle Ernie’s cabin in Maine, a place that was very special to my family. However, it has been gone (sold and moved) for many years and the last time I went there was 1984 at the latest. What caused me to revisit it creatively after all these years was a puzzlement. I had just followed my instincts and made a painting. So, I followed this breadcrumb and dove into my digital archive to see if there was a trail. Well, it turns out that I have painted or drawn this building at least 25 times over the years. I found my Motif #1!

Montage of “Ernie” paintings over the years

So, now I’m wondering why. What compels me to keep going back to this particular well and working it over and over? Is it purely a sentimental need or longing for simpler times? Is it just that it’s familiar and providing a path of least creative resistance? Don’t know. What I do know is that if it comes calling again in the future, I’ll answer the door. I can’t help it.

Remembering an Old Friend

Gay Liberation Memorial, George Segal, Christopher Street Park, NYC, 2025

On a recent trip to NYC, I ran into an old friend, one I lost in 2014. David Bartlett Boyce was an artist who, after a colorful and storied life in Manhattan, landed in New Bedford, MA where he became the city’s preeminent art critic and writer. While in New York, he collaborated and hung with the likes of Robert Mapplethorpe, Jasper Johns, Andy Warhol and Robert Rauschenberg and was the last studio assistant to Joseph Cornell. He was a seriously connected person in the vibrant New York art world.

I first met David in 2002 as I slowly transitioned from the creative branch of the corporate world to a fine art career. I had landed my first solo show at Crowell’s Fine Arts in New Bedford and David met me there prior to the opening to talk about my work. Thus began our all too brief friendship, cut short by his illnesses and subsequent passing. I will always remember his thoughtful critique, gentle encouragement and, mostly, his capacity to listen - not only to the visual work, but to my words and ideas.

And here he was, captured by the sculptor George Segal in the Gay Liberation Monument in Greenwich Village. David was a studio assistant to Segal and posed for one of the figures in the piece, forever placing him proudly in Christopher Park, just across the street from the site of the Stonewall riots. After David passed, whenever members of the SouthCoast art community visited the city, they often posted pictures of themselves with the statue on social media. Circumstances prevented me from making the trip, so this serendipitous encounter was an unexpected pleasure. I was able to introduce him to my new love and we spent a few moments sitting quietly on a nearby bench, sipping our iced coffee and talking about his remarkable life.

For a moving tribute to David, read this wonderful piece written by Don Wilkinson here.

RIP, David.