Alice and I took advantage of gorgeous weather and went down to Mystic Seaport to see both the ships at the seaport and also the Wooden Boat Show that was happening at the same time.

There were a lot of really lovely boats. Big ones were along the docks in the water, for touring if you were thinking about buying them. Little ones were everywhere – on trailers or stands on the common, in the water along the docks, with people standing next to them to explain or answer questions.

One Greek history aficionado had built a kind of mini, one man trireme, with a foam rubber ram on the bow and an extremely complex way of organizing the oars. There were a lot of catboats, of various sizes. The Cocktail Class tiny powerboats had a full squadron in attendance. Mostly they were sailing boats of various sizes, but we saw one big motor-sailer and a lightly renovated fishing boat that were also delightful.

We went to a lecture about how the seaport was repairing the sheer of LA Dunton, a Gloucester fishing schooner built in 1921 and acquired by the seaport in 1972. They’d done some renovations on her in the 1980s, but her sheer – the long line that defines the top of the hull – had become horribly hogged (bent the wrong way). They had made a plan to fix it, starting with detailed drawings of what she had looked like in her youth, drawn in part from photos. Then with plans in place, they’d hauled her out the water and onto the hard (preparing a dead level, two foot wide, concrete pad for her to sit on) and started the next steps. Which were to get everything out of the hull – all the interior walls, the concrete ballast (broken up with a jack hammer and removed) and any remaining bits. The ballast had extraneous bits of metal thrown into it to make it heavier, and they had a small display of broken handles, bits of wrought iron and also a cast iron skillet. After the interior was entirely bare, they could look at the hull and see what kind of shape it was in. It was in very rough shape.

The short story is that they had to loosen up some parts of the hull, notably the keel, so that the ends of the ship could be jacked back into place. Once the jacks were set, they started lifting the bow, and inch or two every day, until after a month they had lifted it three and a half feet – nearly forty inches. And then they built a giant staircase up the outside to let visitors come look, and because they are working on ADA compliance, they also cut a hole for a little three person elevator to go up into the interior. Which is where some of the photos above came from. Look at the gaps in the planking, and notice too the number of holes and pegs holding planking onto the big ribs. Essentially they are taking the ship apart and rebuilding it exactly the way it was originally built.

After putting the main sewing machine back together, it feels like time to just… mess around. I have a couple big projects looming, but I also worked hard during the beginning of the year to to get a show ready for the local library. Which morphed into another show at Northampton Bicycle, and a third show of work done while sailing last year at Zea Mays Print Studio. I am deeply grateful to have these venues to show my work. I am also grateful for some time off to just experiment.

To that end, I have made a string of dots for Dot’s Market in Northport, ME (just because I love them) and also my mother (because I love her too). My partner said “those are just frivolity on a string!” which is exactly what I was aiming for. I have been experimenting with larger circles in return for gifts from other artists. And I am taking a watercolor painting class to see if I like it (and might get better at it).

Over the course of the last year, the zig-zag capabilities of both of my beloved Bernina machines has degraded, to the point that I am currently the possessor of three straight-stitch only machines. I took apart the Bernina 1230 to see if I could recognize anything. I found capacitors and resistors and some mysterious things. Consulting with local experts, we concluded the board was probably done. Making some minor tweaks and reattaching it produced no change in diagnosis, so I ordered a replacement board. That arrived yesterday, and I installed it this morning and tested the stitching capabilities with the back and sides open to the breezes. I shocked myself only once, the zig-zag and decorative stitches seemed to be functioning again, so I closed everything up and now have one machine back close to spec. I did manage to cut myself on something though, so either I have promulgated a blood pact with the machine and it is now my servant forever, or I have let loose a demon within it. I’ll report if anything deeply suspect occurs.

We found the whales the third day out of NYC, on the south edge of Stellwagen Bank. There was clearly upwelling with all the levels of a robust trophic web, and there were whale spouts in all directions. The whales present were largely Humpbacks (Megaptera novaeangliae, long winged New Englander) but we also saw Finbacks, Atlantic Whitesided Dolphins, and possibly one or two Right Whale spouts. Endless birds flocked to places the whales were chasing small fish to the surface, and if you watched the birds, you’d find whales quickly afterwards. I could not photograph the wahles – they are mostly in the water, they are far away, and they don’t look like much until they breach, which they don’t do very often. All my attempts look like very small clouds (spouts) or a dark blip in the waves that might b a fin.

We also managed to use every sail on the ship at one time or another (not all at once, they don’t all work together and some would interfere with others) on this leg. We set my favorite sail, the fisherman, which is the large weird trapezoid set high between the two masts. We took it down again later because the wind died and we didn’t want it flogging itself. Then when we were scudding downwind down Buzzards Bay we set all three square sails that hang from the yards across the ship (instead of the ones that run along the centerline). The bottom, largest one is called the course, the middle is the topsail (I think both of those are in one of the pictures) and then there is a weird little triangular one on top called the raffee that looks like a party hat. I am not at all used to square sails, and maneuvering them was tricky and took extra hands.

I’m home now, sunburned and cheerful. My world still feels like it is rocking gently, but I will be sleeping in a bed where I cannot touch the sides, and no one will wake me for watch. I may do a boat check, just to be sure the cellar has no extra water in it, but honestly I intend to sleep until noon tomorrow.

We spent three days in the Gulf Stream driving and being carried north. We accomplished some science, we deployed some ROVs (remote operated vehicles) and fixed the problems that came up.

I am on this ship to think about and experience and get information on the Gulf Stream. After looking at many rivers on the land, the image of the Gulf Stream looked so like river in the ocean to me that I wanted to see it, in person.

Being in it is remarkable. The color is the most dramatic change – it goes from green and cloudy to deep purpley-blue. The speed is not noticeable except with gps tracking. With that, I knew we were always making three knots even when we we not under sail or power.

I made a point of being on deck when we exited the Gulf Stream. The night was calm, the seas flat to the point of reflecting the brightest stars. The change I could see was the sudden appearance of bio-luminescence in our wake. I’d been hoping for that all trip, but the Gulf Stream is too hot and too salty and too devoid of nutrients to support that kind of life. The coastal waters do, and the transition was quick. I pointed it out to everyone on deck at that point and requested time as lookout so I could hang over the bow and stare at the glowing froth as we plowed through it (I still checked the horizon for traffic, I have some standards). The propeller was making a deep glow in the ocean behind us, a solid six feet below the surface and looking like the Milky Way under the sea. Flying fish were leaping out of the water ahead of the ship, and making sparking trails where they left and re-entered the water. It was very very fine.

I’m going to be on SSV Corwith Cramer next month, in temperate waters (Maimi, Florida to Woods Hole, Massachusetts), and then in the fall, I’ll be on this ship:

out of Svalbard in October.

I could not be more excited! I am using waaay more than my fair share of exclamation points!! I’m going to Take To the Sea!

The reception last night was a mad success! Thank you so much to friends who showed up, especially friends who came in from a distance. Thank you also to strangers who came in as a part of Northampton’s Arts Night Out and left lovely comments and asked fascinating questions.

My favorite question of the night was “what if you make a mistake?” and I am ashamed to say I just laughed. When the querent and I walked over to one of the bigger abstract river pieces, we looked for something that might be a mistake. What I was trying to tell them is that when there is no detailed plan, there is a lot of room for things to happen, and very few of those things are mistakes in the usual sense of the word, that is, an imperfection that forces the maker to undo or reject the piece. There is so much thread, and so much motion in most of my work, that even in places where I see my own hesitations, they are not readily visible in the work as a whole. Which means the hesitations, snarling thread and weird edges are not things that render the whole piece somehow incorrect – they are the things that make the piece individual and handmade, and ultimately make it art.

It is a completely legitimate question, and I think a common one asked of artists, and makers in general, but I think it misses the point of art, and of making things.

Yesterday Cathy and I installed the exhibit at Northampton Center for the Arts which was both easier and harder than expected. I absolutely could not have done it without help (Cathy, I owe you much, much chocolate) – the combination of blank walls and high ceilings meant I needed help ,measuring and reaching. But also, I had chosen to bring a handful of smaller works along, and hanging those guys was very, um, time-consuming. BUT! It worked, and it looks amazing, and here, have a poster:

And if you’re local, come to the reception. If you’re not local, come for a visit and lunch, and I can give you a personal tour. This offer good only through the month of March, because after that, I take to the sea!

Today I spoke with Sea Education Association about scheduling my trip with them as Resident Artist this spring. I’m going onna BOAT!! I am SO PLEASED! I’ll be sailing on SSV Corwith Cramer, a ship named after one of the founders of SEA, and someone my parents were friends with.

And to round out the things that are happening, the living room is getting painted before the (reupholstered) couch returns home next week.

I mean, that last is strictly personal info, but everything all together feels like a lot, you know?