Edge of Walters' Farm, 12 x 18, Pastel

This little painting has been juried into the 2nd Biennial Master Circle Exhibition of the International Association of Pastel Societies. The show will be held in conjunction with the same organization's biennial convention in June of this year. The exhibition will be at the same location as the convention, making it easy for conventioneers to see the exhibition - Hotel Albuquerque, at Old Town in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The public is invited to see the show at any time during the day.

International Association of Pastel Societies is an umbrella organization whose members are individual pastel societies from around the world. You must be a member of one of the individual organizations in order to enter the IAPS shows. After you achieve a certain number of show acceptances you become a Master Circle member. I will be receiving My Master Circle medallion at the show this year and that qualifies me for this Master Circle show. There is a second show running simultaneously for all other members.

For more about the Master Circle award click here.

The subject in this crepuscular winter scene is the farm that was across the rural road from my home when I was a child. At that time it was owned still by my great grandfather, Howard Walters. He and his wife, Eva, inherited the hundred acres of rocky, rolling Pennsylvania hills in Montgomery County from his father, Milton, who was a teacher, justice of the peace and insurance man as well as gentleman farmer. Howard and Eva were among my idols growing up and I spent most of my summer days down on the farm.

There is a beam in the oldest barn on the property that says 1805, if I remember rightly. In my early days I helped 'Pop-pop' and 'Mom-mom' with chores: helping milk cows, shuck corn, spread manure and put up the hay. Many was the time I rode on the wagon pulled behind the baler, grabbing bales with bare hands to stack them high on the wagon. Hard, sweaty work but it added muscle to my skinny frame and the reward was having bales in the hay mow to build tunnels and forts in with my friends. Growing up on a corner of the old farm was a kids' dream come true - fun but with the feeling of family all around and being a part of a long family history.

The photo for this painting was taken one December when I was home for Christmas. One night this winter it struck me as a great subject. I worked on it through the evening hours. Next day I added just a few additional marks but didn't want to destroy the spontaneity of the piece by overworking it. As the last sun hits the tall golden grasses at the edge of the field it sets them off against the dark and brooding winter hardwood and cedar trees for which the region is known. In the distance the cool silhouette of Spring Mount is warmed by those last rays. I hope the painting brings warm memories to many others as it does for me.