Where they live is on the edge of Provence, which makes their lives much less hassled. Ever since the publication of A Year in Provence, Provence has been over-run with visitors. Although our trips took us through Provence, enjoying the incomparable beauty of the landscape, for the most part we were only occasionally in the swell of tourists. I’m happy to say that because we speak French pretty well, we were never taken for Americans. One time we were asked if we were Polish or Swedish.

Thankfully, I’ve had a great 6 or 8 months of work designing sets for a TV show and creating 3D models and an animated fly-through of a school in Japan which my brother the architect is designing. This work, as well as new projects looming will keep me busy for the foreseeable future, so painting is way on the back burner. The good thing is that when I have real world work to do, it’s creative and pays pretty well, which is better than what most people could say about their jobs.

Swans in London | Stephen Springer Davis | 2010

It may be a while before I have a chance to do any artwork, but when I do, I’ll post examples here. Meanwhile, the painting above was done from sketches and photos I took last summer when we were in London. The lake is downtown, not far from the the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was near the end of the day, with low light over my shoulder and black clouds ahead, setting off these three swans glowing in the waning sun.

Cheers for now.

Evolution | Stephen Springer Davis | 1980

My work sold really well at that time, and I would bring a new batch up every month or two to replenish Kathryn’s stock. I have to say I was feeling pretty good about having a successful time at a New York Gallery. I was down-right chuffed.

One day in the fall of 1980 I arrived with my portfolio of new stuff to find a much older man, maybe in his late 60′s, there to show Kathryn Markel slides of his artwork. I was just standing around with him, waiting, because she was on the phone. We chatted and I asked if I could take a look at his slides. The work was colorful abstracts, quite lovely. He told me that Mondays were his day to visit galleries and show his work. He said he had never had a show, in 40 years of trying. I was amazed – his paintings were so wonderful. No one had ever shown them? That was impossible. I was humbled. Here I was, the self-satisfied 20-something, and I’d shown my work several times already. I thought that clever and accessible as they were, my punny rubber stamp prints on paper were pretty lightweight compared tohis more serious and bold oil paintings. I was embarrassed that I’d been more successful then he after only a few years of trying.

After that encounter I started to think differently about my work, and ultimately I changed to a more serious (I guess) direction.

Fragment No. 21 | Stephen Springer Davis | 1982

I’ve often thought about that artist, and I’ve wondered if he died without ever showing his beautiful paintings to the world.

In 1985 I read an article in the New Yorker by Lawrence Weschler called Shapinsky’s Karma. The story is involved and affecting. I’ve often wondered why it’s never been made into a movie. Here’s my precis:

The author was contacted by an Indian reporter and agricultural college teacher, Akumal Ramachander, about an artist he’d met in New York called Harold Shapinsky. Mr. Weschler had no clue who this artist was, but Mr. Ramachander insisted that it was his karmic duty, his destiny, to make the world aware of the artwork of Shapinsky. His spiritual calling was not to make money from success for Mr. Shapinsky, but rather to help him because the art world needed to know this unknown artist.

While Mr. Ramachander had good karma, Shapinsky’s was not so great. He had been a contemporary of all the big names in the New York art scene in the late 40′s: Motherwell, deKooning, Rothko, Pollock, all of whom would go on to be rich and famous. In 1949 Shapinsky was living in a cold-water flat, struggling to get the money together for canvas and paint. He became seriously ill, and his brother took him out to Long Island to recover. Unfortunately, this same generous brother forgot to pay Shapinsky’s $12 rent for the apartment. As a result, the landlord cleared out the apartment and threw away several years’ worth of Shapinsky’s paintings. Only a few were recovered.

Untitled | Harold Shapinsky |1950

Shapinsky’s next setback was that, unlike the other artists in the group, he was drafted in 1949. He didn’t get out of the army till 1952. As a result, he effectively missed the boat of New York Abstract Expressionism, and was forever more out of sync with the art world. Shapinsky struggled for decades, painting in his one-room apartment shared with his wife, keeping his paintings under their bed. A chance meeting in Chicago by Mr. Ramachander with Shapinsky’s son David started him on his journey to let the world know about this man who painted “like an angel”

Against all possible odds, Mr. Ramachander kept up his spirtual quest and ultimately got Shapinsky a show at the Mayor Gallery in London, where his paintings sold for $15 to $30,000. Other big shows and notoriety followed. The world finally knew about Harold Shapinsky.

In a related story, on December 20, 2009 The New York Times had a story about a painter aged 94 who was accidentally discovered after she had painted in obscurity for six decades. It happened that in 2004 The Latin Collective in New York was putting together a show of geometric paintings by women. One of the artists pulled out of the show at the last minute, and a friend of Carmen Herrera suggested that the owner include her. The owner said “Who the hell is Carmen Herrera?” Several of Herrera’s painting were delivered to the gallery, and the owner mistakenly thought that they were the paintings of the Brazilian artist Lygia Clark. He was amazed to find instead from dates on the paintings that they were completed ten years before anyone had heard of Ms. Clark.

Shocking Pink #20 |Carmen Herrera | 1949

Collectors immediately bought up her paintings, and since then she has had her work shown in England and Germany. As her friend, the painter Tony Bechara told her,
“The bus always comes for those who wait.”

Was the man I met at the Markel Gallery Harold Shapinsky? Probably not. But I’m still humbled by his story and those of Harold Shapinsky and Carmen Herrera. These three artists painted in obscurity for years. I’m going to continue to sit at this bus stop, working on my paintings when I can.

Storm at Acadia - The Day After | Stephen Springer Davis | 2009

I was immediately reminded of the much darker storm scenes painted by Winslow Homer near his home at Prout’s Neck, Maine. I’ve always admired Homer’s seacoast paintings, especially his storm scenes: waves pounding on dark rocks under a dark sky. The scene we saw at Acadia that day seemed much cheerier but nonetheless was just as scary. The Park Service wouldn’t let visitors get too close too the sea that day because tragically, the day before several people had been pulled to their deaths into the ocean by a rogue wave.

Storm painting | Winslow Homer

Late Day Cove | Stephen Springer Davis | 2009

Last week I had the opportunity to, as I have for about 25 years, return to Maine for a painting trip. This trip was different, though, from those of the last few years, because the weather was great, without the usual grey skies and threatening rain. On those trips I had to take pictures to paint from over the winter. I find it hard to make a gloomy day in a photo look sunny in a painting. But this time I got to do some plein air painting. Also, for the second time in all my trips I was at the ocean, rather than at the lake where the friends with whom I stay live.

When I get to paint under the sun after a year of painting at my easel, I have to adjust to challenges. Ordinarily, I wear sunglasses outside because the light is too bright, but I can’t do that when I’m painting because the dark lenses add grey to the paints and therefore to my mixing of colors. Likewise I can’t use an umbrella because it shades the painting and the paints. So… I have to adjust to the sun for my eyes and for the sake of painting. By the end of my trip, after doing several paintings, I’ve got a handle on the technique, only to return home and paint at my easel under a light that simulates sunlight, parked in front of my 22″ monitor instead of the ocean.

The House on the Point | Stephen Springer Davis | 2009

While I was doing this painting a lady came up to chat with me. She told me all about the house: the number of bedrooms and bathrooms and that it was for sale for $5 million because of a divorce. I asked if she was the real estate agent and she said instead that she used to clean the house.

I created a piece called Evolution using hand-carved rubber stamps, printing with drawing inks. It was all very exciting – this was an art museum after all. When it was printed the museum sent me ten posters, but strangely I would have to buy any extras beyond that at the full museum store price. I bought ten more, all I could afford, so that I could give them away as Christmas presents. My mother suggested that I send one to my grandfather, and it was awkward, because he didn’t know what he was supposed to think about the poster. So he went to a gallery in his town of Boca Raton, Florida to ask one question: Is This Art?

You can understand that I was relieved and pleased that the answer, according to my grandfather, from the gallery owner was an enthusiastic yes, this is Art.  Whew! That was a close one.

After the show ended I got a huge tube in the mail from South Carolina. A teacher had taken her fifth grade class to see my show, and the kids were so inspired, she told me, that they wanted to do a their own interpretation of my original artwork. She had the class draw animals on dishwashing sponges and use scissors to cut out animal shapes. She laid out a piece of brown paper about 4′ by 10′ and had the kids print their animals in the shape of a crocodile with poster paint.

I was so touched that I sent the teacher my framed Evolution. I hope that this piece is still on a wall at the school.