Cranberry Jim 6" x 9" archival print (8" x 11")
Meet Cranberry Jim — 05172022
My wife recently asked me why this piece is called “Cranberry Jim?“ My response was, “Because those were the words that popped into my head when I looked at the piece after it was finished.”
I have ADHD.
I often only know why I did something well after the impulse of doing it has been done. I imagine that the title I have given this piece has something to do with the particular reds I was exploring while making it, especially those in the top left corner and below the bold black looping swash. I am particularly drawn to the play between the cool pinkish reds and the warmer crimsons. The cool reds remind me of ripening cranberries on Nantucket Island. They have a particular pinkish red color as they ripen which deepens into a beautiful…well, “cranberry” red right before the bogs are flooded and the cranberries float to the top of the water to be harvested.
My father was born on Nantucket Island. I miss him and the glimpses of his life that I would get when we visited during summers growing up. My father had a favorite uncle (my great uncle) who lived on the mainland in a small cedar-shingled house by the water in Orleans on Cape Cod…His name was Joe. You maybe thinking to yourself, “Why didn’t he name the piece, Cranberry Joe? The reason? Cranberry Jim sounds better to me. I did enjoy digging quahogs with my uncle Joe, though.
Meet Cranberry Jim — 05172022
My wife recently asked me why this piece is called “Cranberry Jim?“ My response was, “Because those were the words that popped into my head when I looked at the piece after it was finished.”
I have ADHD.
I often only know why I did something well after the impulse of doing it has been done. I imagine that the title I have given this piece has something to do with the particular reds I was exploring while making it, especially those in the top left corner and below the bold black looping swash. I am particularly drawn to the play between the cool pinkish reds and the warmer crimsons. The cool reds remind me of ripening cranberries on Nantucket Island. They have a particular pinkish red color as they ripen which deepens into a beautiful…well, “cranberry” red right before the bogs are flooded and the cranberries float to the top of the water to be harvested.
My father was born on Nantucket Island. I miss him and the glimpses of his life that I would get when we visited during summers growing up. My father had a favorite uncle (my great uncle) who lived on the mainland in a small cedar-shingled house by the water in Orleans on Cape Cod…His name was Joe. You maybe thinking to yourself, “Why didn’t he name the piece, Cranberry Joe? The reason? Cranberry Jim sounds better to me. I did enjoy digging quahogs with my uncle Joe, though.
Meet Cranberry Jim — 05172022
My wife recently asked me why this piece is called “Cranberry Jim?“ My response was, “Because those were the words that popped into my head when I looked at the piece after it was finished.”
I have ADHD.
I often only know why I did something well after the impulse of doing it has been done. I imagine that the title I have given this piece has something to do with the particular reds I was exploring while making it, especially those in the top left corner and below the bold black looping swash. I am particularly drawn to the play between the cool pinkish reds and the warmer crimsons. The cool reds remind me of ripening cranberries on Nantucket Island. They have a particular pinkish red color as they ripen which deepens into a beautiful…well, “cranberry” red right before the bogs are flooded and the cranberries float to the top of the water to be harvested.
My father was born on Nantucket Island. I miss him and the glimpses of his life that I would get when we visited during summers growing up. My father had a favorite uncle (my great uncle) who lived on the mainland in a small cedar-shingled house by the water in Orleans on Cape Cod…His name was Joe. You maybe thinking to yourself, “Why didn’t he name the piece, Cranberry Joe? The reason? Cranberry Jim sounds better to me. I did enjoy digging quahogs with my uncle Joe, though.