My current work is a series of architectural and landscape paintings of the Thomas Shepherd Grist Mill in Shepherdstown, West Virginia. Built circa 1738, it is older than our country. Nothing is level, straight or square; its stonework is cracked and fallen in places; some of the wood aged and rotting; and vines and weeds are endlessly fighting to take over. Yet its bones are strong and its energy light, and it will continue to stand long after we are gone. I feel kinship to it. I consider it a blessing to be a steward of this space, and my mission to share its story through my art. I’m only here for a brief moment in its long life. So I honor tradition while adding a contemporary touch with bold colors and perspective.

There is beauty in this dilapidation. I spend a lot of contemplative time walking around the property. I put on my hiking boots and trudge down the steep slope along the wheel, sometimes grasping a gnarly root or branch for support, reminding myself to keep my own aging body strong. I observe it from different perspectives, trying to see it differently than perhaps it was in the past. I study the surfaces and the way the light falls at different times and in different seasons. I look for ways the natural environment interacts with the manmade forms. Sometimes the spokes of the waterwheel cast curious shadows. Sometimes the fallen stones assemble themselves in interesting ways. Sometimes I discover a tiny sapling from neighboring tree that has sprung forth from the wheel’s axel—and as much as I’m delighted by it’s persistence, I know it will have to be re-homed. But first, I’ll capture the moment.