"There Are No Warnings, Only Signs"

It was about two weeks ago that I finished painting the road signs in the lake community where I live. Started on a fast tack with two coats of white back in mid-May. Then, it started raining for the next two months, and painting anything outside was next to impossible. As easy as rolling the white fence paint on was, two coats of black lettering was tedious, time-consuming, and required a steady painting hand. The black paint for the lettering took about 2 hours for each sign. I managed to stay at it, getting them done a section at a time --- the hill one day, over by the store a few days later. From thick mosquitoes (especially up on the Pine Hill section) and humidity to falling leaves and wind chills. Add in some unforeseen occurrences, a population that really doesn't volunteer much (nor, apparently, do we have many good painters) and you can see how it might lag on until mid-October.

The signs were originally my oldest brother's Eagle Scout project in the Boy Scouts, which happened almost 20 years ago now. Ever since, the family has done maintenance on the signs, and as I've gotten older, I have worked steadily to finish some of the remaining signs that never quite got done. At this point, there are 30 signs that mark both association-owned and town-owned roads. At right is a representative example of the street signs. They consist of pressure-treated 4x4 posts, crowned at the top, with 3-inch stencil street names routered down all four sides. They are then anchored in concrete about a foot to a foot-and-a-half down into the ground (or as far as you can dig without hitting a huge rock).

Over the years, there has been some vandalism to the signs. Mostly, though, that happened shortly after they were first put up in the early '90s by a group of teenagers who apparently resented easily identifiable street signs that aid police, fire department, delivery trucks, mail trucks, etc. It was just a rough element here that rebelled, probably mostly because it was my family that put them up. They have moved on. And apparently, either kids are more civic-minded these days... or, as the darker theory goes, they're too busy with sports, video games or "hooking up." I would like to think they see the value of the signs, and I hope they're appreciated as a kind of unifying theme for the lake community... a kind of functional artwork in themselves. It's important to foster a sense of pride, ownership, and duty around the lake. I'm not going to say that a few coats of paint can work miracles, but I believe it contributes.

Painting the Past

© "Landscapes Through Time with David Dunlop" (Link)

When you think of the phrase 'got a new television' you instantly imagine a well-conformed derriere print on the couch. Since we got the HDTV, however, I've noticed a sharp decline in my viewing habits. Part of this may be the picture --- when you've gotten a taste of high definition, it's a real downer to have to watch programs in standard definition that often look hazy or washed out in comparision. Another part would probably be the state of programming these days. As a matter of record in this blog, we are an over-the-air-only house, so we get what passes for network television these days --- much of it being garbage/"ashes in the mouth." Much of the time when the television is on, it's tuned to PBS.

One of my favorite shows on PBS, though it isn't receiving airtime currently, is "Landscapes Through Time with David Dunlop." Now, I've enjoyed landscape painting shows for quite a while, with the late Bob Ross and some various others that have popped up on the PBS Create channel (in standard definition), usually in the 6:30 p.m. hour. Seeing a few episodes with Mr. Dunlop on the main PBS channels in high-definition was enough for me to see that he's working on a higher level. While he's painting at the same sites that famous artists created their works, (and when he meets with other artists/students nearby and makes some touches of his own on their work) he talks about the artist of the episode, gives a bit of history and focuses on their individual techniques. This is a relatively new series on PBS, originating out of our little state of Connecticut's PBS stations (CPTV), and so far has filmed 13 episodes in locations in this state, France, etc. Here's hoping that this series gets some run-time scheduled and produces more episodes.

Monora, 1911

Was digging around in the attic the other day and found the picture shown to the right. I had put it up there a while back because I didn't think it fit into the decor of any of the rooms in our house. And isn't it just the case that when you look on an object unseen for a time that you come to think of it in a new way, with new possibilities? "Hmm," I thought to myself, "This could work in your room now." It's a fairly dark frame and picture, so now that I'm rocking a light brown/dark brown theme, with 'antique brass' fixtures/doorhandles, this painting really fits in there.

What I have found out in a little online research today is that it is by Edmund Osthaus (though, I don't see a signature on the painting). The red "MONORA" near the dog's left foot threw me off the trail at first, because I thought that was an artist's signature. Monora, however, was the name of the setter bitch (that being 'female canine') that is depicted --- she was the 1910 National Champion hunting dog. According to a Red Fox Fine Art biography page, "Oshthaus ... produced a series of postcards, lithographs and calendar pictures for duPont, including every national champion from the first, Count Gladstone IV in 1896 through Monora in 1911." This print, listed in an online auction site, looks like a closer-cropped version of the image, with a slightly different background.

Brushstrokes and layering are visible in the painting, and looking at the back, it is stretched canvas on a wood frame. I don't know what this means as far as the painting being an original. Comparing to the postcard image's crispness and as a judgment call, I'm pretty certain the painting I have is a reproduction. I guess to find that out for sure, I'd have to take it to the Antiques Roadshow.