Category Archives: Art

Bird Drama

A Bluebird Update

A recent newspaper article told about the removal of a popular “bird-cam” from an osprey nest. Viewers were outraged when the mother bird didn’t seem to be doing proper mothering. They demanded that someone take those baby birds away from the unfit mother and “raise them right.”

Interfering with Mother Nature is a hard call. Here in Alaska we had a governor who said, “You can’t just let nature run wild.” (This was not the same governor who could see Russia from her house.)

Nature did run a bit wild on my recent visit to Whirlwind Hill. My brother had put up some new bluebird houses, cleaned up the old ones, and was excited to tell me that the bluebirds had arrived. But when I looked through my binoculars, I saw he was mistaken. The birds on the house were tree swallows. Tree swallows have shiny blue backs, but the color blue does not necessarily a bluebird make. The male bluebird has a reddish breast, where the swallow’s is white. A swallow’s flight pattern is swooping and diving, and the bluebird’s is fluttering and dipping.

For the next week of my visit, my brother and I enjoyed monitoring the birds (swallows, sparrows, starlings, red-winged blackbirds, cardinals, finches, and one huge wild turkey) and their ongoing kerfuffles over feeder access and home ownership. We could see three equally occupation-ready birdhouses from the kitchen window, but all the birds wanted possession of the same one – the old house in the middle.

“Bluebird Houses,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache, 2016

There was not a bluebird in sight. One morning, my mother’s sworn enemy, the English sparrow, ravaged the swallow’s nest in the popular house and then sat on top guarding his new property. A male sparrow will bond with a house before it bonds with a mate, and this particular sparrow had fallen in love with the swallow’s house and was not about to give it up. The next day some big starlings tried to drive away the little sparrow, only to be chased by red-winged blackbirds. A starling tried to squeeze into one of the new boxes, but after a while he lost interest. My brother chased away the sparrow. The swallows moved back in. Another sparrow showed up, but was routed by a larger group of swallows.

“Bird Drama,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache, 2016

Then, one evening, I saw a bluebird. He sat on a limb of the dogwood tree in the puffy, peaceful way of a bluebird. And two days later we noticed that while our attention had been on the drama we could see from the window, the bluebird had quietly built a nest and installed his wife in a house far removed from the action. My brother confirmed that there were indeed eggs in the nest, and just yesterday told me that all was still going well for the bluebirds. We’re hopeful that the turf wars settle down, and that the bluebird and swallow babies will hatch and come back next spring to raise their own families.

“Bluebird on a Fence,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache, 2015

Chair Paintings – Part 2

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The shapes of chairs create interesting negative space. Their legs and slatted backs let the landscape or background show through. They frame a view and enhance their surroundings. You can put things on their seats that aren’t people – flowerpots, pillows, and cats. And, in the right light, they cast dramatic shadows.

The first chair painting I did was all about this negative space. I stained the surface of a canvas the brown color of the chair and painted the white walls around the edges of the structure and its shadow.

“Chair and Shadow,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 1974

In 1983 I began to make my “set-ups” of chairs, rugs, plants, windows, etc. I moved them around inside or outside my house to take advantage of the light. Certain chairs made stronger statements than others, and I’ve used them over and over.

Here are some of the images I’ve painted since that first chair in 1974.

A Chair for the Museum Show

In 1985 I had a solo show at the Anchorage Museum. I did a series of paintings using the east window in my studio as a backdrop. I think this painting was the first “set-up” I made using a dining room chair, a plant, patterned rugs, and patterned cloth.

“East Window – May,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on linen, 40″ x 32″ 1983

Sunshine and Flowers

Every fall I bring all my geraniums inside for the winter. I love to see them in the sunlit living room, as the weather outside gets colder.

“Char and Flowers – September,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 1992

The Kitchen Chair

Our kitchen chairs are straight-backed and sturdy. They’re a solid and reassuring presence and good creators of negative space.

“Chair and Canvas #2,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 40″ x 30″ 1993

“Dark Chair and Pink Geraniums,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 40″ x 32″ 1996

“Chair and Flowers in an Empty Room,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 40″ x 32″ 1998

The White Chair

When my grandma Crump went into a nursing home she let us grandchildren each choose something they liked from her house. I had always wanted this white chair and a little white table that had been in my father’s bedroom when he was growing up. My dad had it packed up and sent all the way to Alaska for me. It’s a hard chair to paint because of all the turnings on the legs, but I love it.

“Chair and Flowers – Spring,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 40″ x 32″ 1992

“White Chair with Pansies and Geraniums,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 34″ x 26″ 2005

“Pink Geranium in a Blue Bowl,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 38″ x 30″ 2005

Mara’s Orange Chair

In high school my daughter Mara painted her bedroom orange. And one summer her friend Meghan gave her this orange chair for her birthday. It had been in the coffee shop where Mara worked, and when the place closed down Meghan somehow fit the chair into her little car and brought it to the orange room.

“Mara’s Orange Room,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 38″ x 30″ 1998

The Wing Back Chair

For a while this was my studio chair. But now I keep it in the living room where I sit to read or knit. It’s been recovered twice – that’s how well used it is.

“Striped Chair with Two Geranimus,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 34″ x 26″ 2005

“Chair with Pink Geranium,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache and colored pencil. 2010

Thanks for joining me on this chair adventure. Happy spring!

Me and my Great-Grampa Biggs sitting in the yard on a summer day, 1947

Chair Paintings – Part 1

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In a comment on my post about Hezehiah’s chair, my cousin Becky asked if I might show some of my favorite outdoor furniture. I think my favorite outdoor furniture is indoor furniture brought outside on a sunny day.

In the days before real outdoor patio furniture, my grandparents and parents used all the chairs they could find for an outdoor picnic. I love this photo of the family having a picnic near the farmhouse on Whirlwind Hill. They sit in chairs from the kitchen and dining room of the house, balancing plates of food on their laps and enjoying the sunshine.

Farm Picnic, 1948

Chairs and sunshine are perfect vehicles for painting pleasure. The light creates patterned shadows and intensifies color. While I was going through slides and photos of my chair paintings, I realized how very many chairs I moved around inside and outside to take advantage of the light. (I did this when traveling as well, and probably embarrassed many a friend and family member by moving chairs around in public places.)

Sometimes my chair images are close to home, and sometimes they come from away. The chairs in this post are not chairs from my house. They’re chairs from places that feel like home – California, New England, and Hawaii. Next week I’ll show some of my chairs from home.

California

This white wicker chair sat in the garden of my in-law’s house when they lived in Stockton, California. I had just discovered the artist David Hockney and was influenced by his colored pencil drawings.

“California Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, colored pencil, 1979

Vermont

My friend Robin has a lakeside “camp” in Vermont. I probably moved her furniture around to take advantage of the view, which was very lovely.

“Porch by the Lake,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 30″ x 40″ 1997

Rhode Island

I fell in love with the “Ocean House” in Watch Hill, Rhode Island in 1998 in the years before it was renovated and fancy-schmancied up. I did paintings of its porches, chairs, windows, and doorways. Fortunately it was nearly empty during the off-season, and no one seemed to mind me posing its furniture for pictures.

“Ocean House #2,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 1999

Maine

My favorite place in Maine to paint is the Olson House in Cushing. Its rooms are empty except for a few chairs and the sunlight coming through the windows. I never get tired of going there.

“Northern Light #10,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 38″ x 30″ 2001

These rocking chairs were on a porch in Pemaquid, Maine.

"Green Rocking Chairs," Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 2009

“Green Rocking Chairs,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 2000

Connecticut

This is the cottage porch – one of the best places in the world to sit and watch the ocean.

“Porch Chair and Screen Door,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache, 2009

Hawaii

Hawaii is all about color and light. To paint a Hawaii painting in my studio in the middle of a cold and grey winter is the best therapy ever.

"Waimea Plantation Porch," Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 26" x 34" 2000

“View to the Ocean #1,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 26″ x 34″ 2000

“Lanai with Two Chairs,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache and colored pencil, 2009

My sister-in-law and her husband generously share their beautiful Kauai house with us for a few weeks each year. We started going to the Garden Isle in 1976, and it’s a place that always feels truly like home. The painting below shows the view from their living room. I moved an indoor chair outside and painted a view of the ocean that you might see if there weren’t houses across the street. Artistic license to the rescue!

“Morning Sun,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas 40″ x 32″ 2000

Next week my chairs will move closer to my home in the far north.

Chair Drawings

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On a 1985 visit to Whirlwind Hill, I needed a calming focus while I spent two weeks with my two young children and my wonderful, but very talkative mother. I decided to draw all the chairs in my parents’ house. I made a good start of it, but I didn’t get very far. Still, it was a good exercise in looking, and I came to appreciate the intricacy and the beauty and the history of this furniture.

The farmhouse living room was a hodgepodge of chairs, sofas, lamps, and tables – some antique, and some not. Above all, the space was comfortable and light – a perfect multi-purpose room. My parents’ living room was also spacious and bright, and some of the furniture in it came from the farm. Chairs were moved around to meet the demands of guests, Christmas trees, pets, and playing children. Below is a photo of the farmhouse living room in the 1950’s.

The farmhouse living room in the 1940’s

Here are a few of the chairs I drew on that 1985 visit. My drawings were too big to scan, so I apologize for the quality of the photos.

The Fancy Chair

With their low pink seats and straight backs, this chair and its mate are rarely used for sitting. They flank the living room fireplace in a rather useless, but decorative manner.

“The Fancy Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1985

A Wooden Chair

This little wooden chair is also uncomfortable, but it holds a special place in Whirlwind Hill lore because it is very, very old. At least I think it is.

“The Little Wooden Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1985

The Low Rocking Chair

Now that I look at this drawing, I’m trying to place the chair but can’t remember seeing it lately. I’ll have to look next time I’m back on Whirlwind Hill.

“The Low Rocking Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1985

The Upholstered Rocker

I like to picture my mother rocking me in this chair when I was a baby on the farm. Did this really happen? I have a vague memory of her telling me that it did.

“The Upholstered Rocker,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1985

Me as a baby on the farm with my Grandma Crump, my mother, and my Great-grandma Barton

The Chair with the Velvet Seat

For a long time this chair sat at the end of a long hallway leading to the bedrooms in my parents’ house. There was an oval mirror hanging above it and a long patterned runner on the floor. I did a linocut of this scene, and it’s now hanging in that same hallway.

“The Chair with the Velvet Seat,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1985

“Hallway,” Carol Crump Bryner, linocut print, 1975

The Queen Anne Chair

My mother was proud of this chair. It had a long history on the farm. My great-grandmother, Lydia Jane Hall, was photographed sitting elegantly on its seat. No one sits in it now, (it, too, is uncomfortable) but maybe someday one of my great-grandchildren will look at this photo of me and my great-aunt Hattie sitting on the chair and say, “That’s my great-grandmother Carol sitting in the Queen Anne Chair.”

“The Queen Anne Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1985

Lydia Jane Hall, around 1900

Aunt Hattie and Carol, Christmas, 1946

Drawing is way to explore and learn and really, really look. Painting seems to me to be a medium that brings objects and scenes to life. In my next post I’ll share a few of the many (I count close to one hundred) paintings I’ve done of chairs.

Hezekiah’s Chair

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In preparation for a trip to France last fall, I looked at photo after photo of rental apartments with grand names – “River View,” Spectacular Dome des Invalides,” “Marais Glamour Studio.” But I kept thinking, “Where is the comfy chair?”

I’m like a dog or cat in my attachment to favorite chairs.

“Yoda on a Favorite Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1995

A good seat is important for so many activities – reading a book, knitting a scarf, chatting with a friend, drinking tea, eating a cookie, or writing in a journal.

“My Favorite Chair,” Carol Crump Bryner, pencil drawing, 1996

It was hard for me to imagine spending a few weeks without an inviting place to sit. In the end it didn’t matter, because there was so much to see in Paris I spent very little time indoors sitting down.

The rarely used chair in our Paris apartment – the “River View” apartment.

Were my ancestors on Whirlwind Hill comfortable in their chairs? It’s hard to tell from old photos, since most of the pictures show serious men and women sitting still and stiff in straight-backed chairs.

William E. Hall as a young man

Chairs have a human presence. With their arms and legs and seats and backs they seem like friends. So when my brother sent me a photo of an old chair he had recently found and purchased, I felt like I was meeting an ancestor for the first time.

Hezekiah Hall’s chair

The chair belonged to Hezekiah Hall, one of several Hezekiah Halls who once lived in Wallingford. An inscription on a slat under the seat reads,

“A RELIC OF HEZEKIAH HALL AD 1778 GREAT-GRANDFATHER OF WILLIS CHESTER AVERY WHO REJUVENATED IT OCT 1878 WALLINGFORD CONN.”

The inscription on Hezekiah’s chair

A well-preserved relic it is. Although it doesn’t look very comfortable, it has a feeling of dignity and artistic delicacy.

I don’t know very much about the Hezekiah Hall who owned this chair. At some point in my blog research I came across a biography of him, but I haven’t been able to find it again. His chair will have to stand in for him as I search for more information. To me it looks like the chair of an important person. I’ll let you know.

I love to paint and draw chairs. The furniture on the farm and in my parents’ house was so eclectic that it inspired my choices in making art and in furnishing my house. I plan to share some of these paintings and drawings in the weeks to come.

“Northern Light #10,” Carol Crump Bryner, oil on canvas, 38″ x 30″ 2001

Twelve Treats of Christmas – Day Twelve

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Swedish Tea Log

I’ve learned something these past weeks. If you write a blog about treats, you have no time to make any of them. I haven’t made my mother’s “Swedish Tea Log” in many years, but my mouth still waters thinking about it.

The “Tea Log” is my mother’s version of a Swedish Tea Ring. She always called it a “log,” because she never joined the ends, but instead formed a crescent with the dough, and made it so that the links of the log could be easily separated into little individual pastries. She liked to freeze them, heat them in the oven, ice them, and serve them with coffee or tea.

I used to make three of these every Christmas – one for us, one for a friend and her family, and one to freeze and look forward to in January.

In the bustle and craziness that comes with children and present giving, we parents looked forward to a mid-morning break.

Christmas Craziness

I’d make a pot of coffee, bring out the Swedish Tea Log, and we’d sit and enjoy some moments of peace and warmth and togetherness by the tree.

I wish for all of you your own moments of peace and joy on this day. And a Happy, Healthy New Year to all!

“Swedish Tea Log,” Carol Crump Bryner, gouache and colored pencil, 2015

Twelve Treats of Christmas – Day Nine

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Tea and Thumbprint Cookies

For many years in Anchorage I was part of a solstice tea party tradition. On a weekday afternoon on or near the solstice we gathered in the living room of my friend Katy’s cozy red house. We sat around a coffee table near the wood stove and drank tea, ate cookies, fruitcake, and sometimes birthday cake. For a group of busy mothers this seemed the ultimate holiday season therapy session. We laughed and we talked and we had an excuse to just sit and relax in a candlelit room. In later years the tea party moved to my own living room, and I started making thumbprint cookies to serve with the tea.

Tea Party Invitation, Carol Crump Bryner, 2008

Tea Party Collage

Thumbprint cookies are best, I think, with a dollop of raspberry jam, but any kind of jam or jelly will do – even a chocolate “Kiss.” I like to use the recipe from the “Tasha Tudor Cookbook.” Thumbprint cookies are just the right size to fit onto the saucer of a Christmas teacup.

“Christmas Cup with Thumbprint Cookie,” Carol Crump Bryner, woodcut and collaged drawing

Twelve Treats of Christmas – Day Eight

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The Gingerbread House

Today is bittersweet for me. I turn seventy, but I’ve lost my birthday mate. My dear cousin Tom, who shared this solstice birthday with me, died a few months ago. I’ll miss hearing his voice on the phone saying, “Hey Baby Carol. This is Tom. Happy Birthday!!”

Tom Teter and Carol Crump in front of the farmhouse on Whirlwind Hill, 1949

I rarely saw Tom in the winter, but one year his family – my mother’s sister Lydia, her husband Bill, son Tom, and daughter Nancy – came east for Christmas. I remember two wonderful treats from that visit. The first was the Christmas gift to Nancy and me of matching “Ginny Walker” dolls. And the second was the gingerbread house the Teters carried with them all the way from Indiana. I’m sure there was birthday cake too, but what I remember most is the taste and texture of the minty wafer candies that adorned the frosted gingerbread roof. Like Hansel and Gretel I picked at that house for days, wanting it to last forever.

Carol with the gingerbread house and the new doll

Twelve Treats of Christmas – Day Seven

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Popcorn Balls

My mother told us how they used to make popcorn “in the good old days.” They put the corn kernals into a mesh basket with a long handle, something like a “Jiffy-Pop” set-up. The cook then shook the basket over the fireplace fire until the corn exploded and filled up the popper.

Winter Sunday afternoons were popcorn time at the farm on Whirlwind Hill. My grandmother popped a huge pot of corn, buttered and salted it, and left it on the kitchen table. When we came in from sledding we filled our little green melmac bowls with the salty snack and brought it with us to the living room to eat while we listened to the grown-ups engage in their Sunday chat.

Sledding down the hill toward the farmhouse, 1950’s

We saved some of the popcorn for my Grandpa Hall’s popcorn balls. He was a slow eater, and one popcorn ball might last him several evenings. This was ok, because popcorn balls seem to get better over time, especially if you wrap them in green or red cellophane tied with ribbon. My mother made these for him, knowing that on cold winter nights his favorite pastime was to sit by the wood stove in the kitchen and nibble on a popcorn ball and some hickory nuts.

Janet Hall Crump and her daddy, Ellsworth Hall, sitting on the lounge in the dining room where he took his daily after-lunch nap.

Twelve Treats of Christmas – Day Five

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Almond Brittle

One of our eagerly awaited Christmas parcels comes from Indiana. My cousin Nancy makes the best almond brittle ever. She’s been sending it to us for years. This is something I might eat before the salad. It’s crunchy from the almonds buried in the toffee and sprinkled on the chocolate coating. It melts in your mouth and sticks to your teeth at the same time. It leaves you wanting more. Because I love it so, and because my husband eats more than I do, and because I’ve gotten greedy in my old age, I divide up the batch as soon as it arrives so I can have my fair share. That IS fair, right??

“Tin of Almond Brittle,” Carol Crump Bryner, collage, 2015

On Whirlwind Hill

An artist's memories of a family farm – Carol Crump Bryner