Oil painting (24”x 30”)
The spiral that dominates the design of this painting is the same spiral that informs our weather-all related to the earth’s rotation! Storms and low pressure systems ‘clock’ counter-clockwise in the northern hemisphere…clockwise in the southern hemisphere. Understanding the coriolis effect, a competent mariner can tell if a breeze is to build or fall based on these indicators. It’s one of the reasons why these more seasoned sailors always find where the wind will be, before the rest of the fleet. And it’s a good way to know if the anchorage you’ve chosen for the night will be a sheltered one or not!
”Coriolis” (24x32)
Passing over an old Dory that drifted in partially submerged after breaking away from its unknown owner. Don’t know exactly what the circumstances were, but there’ve been all kinds of stories… one had to do with the Rockefeller’s gardener who rowed off in a huff after a particularly pointed grievance and another tale about an old fisherman and his daughter…
It settled to the bottom years ago, and has been a source of curiosity, and intrigue ever since!
It’s not the most exhilarating point of sail, but there’s no better time to have the wind at your back than at the tail end of a long day of sailing. Surging ahead gently with a following sea, the stern becomes light in the water, and the bow plows through the next wave, slightly gold with the evening sun shining through.
Our nearly two year old Springer Spaniel Ted is all about playful enthusiasm. And when it comes to an energetic game of “fetch the stick” it pays to maintain a cheerful sense of humor. For just when you think he’s obediently returned the stick, he’ll dart away… with a slightly different game in mind!
An oil painting on canvas. 18 x 24
Every year the people at Rockport Marine and Brooklin Boatyard put on a regatta for over a hundred classic wooden sailboats: The Eggemoggin Reach Regatta. Sailors gather at the Wooden boat school’s campus whose waterfront and anchorage serves as home for the event. But in all my visits, I’ve never met a soul who honestly knows what this anchorage is called!
Naskeag defines it’s western boundary and Babson Island guards it to the south. And it was Babson Island that I was exploring when I came upon this young physician from Wisconsin. He had been sailing around the world with his wife and decided in that moment, that the peaceful empty beach along Babson’s southwestern shore, was what he’d been searching for all along!
Oil Painting on board (15 x 20)
You’ve not experienced the islands of Maine until you’ve hiked their interiors. Something that would not be possible, but for organizations like the Maine Coast Heritage Trail. Miles and miles of trails through fragile spruce forests, dark, damp and cool. Your eyes quickly adjust to these shady environs, dotted with mushrooms and decaying undergrowth. But when suddenly you reach your trail’s end, you burst out into bright sunlight and the coast’s endlessly big skies.
Alla prima Oil painting on prepared panel 12x18
If it’s a small anchorage, you may have to drop the hook out further afield, but there are certain advantages to coming in after the other boats have settled in. There are times when it’s a real pleasure rafting up with another boat or two. But if it’s a peaceful night’s sleep you’re hoping for, a little distance can be a blessing.
No one can resist the seductive power of late afternoon sunlight! It imparts everything with a rich golden glow as if touched by the very hand of God herself! If only her intentions were honorable!
“Rascal!” Oil on Board (12 x 16)
I remember the first time I jumped into the water from any sort of height. It was “Jumping rock” or “the cliff” or something like that. And I remember that it seemed so very much higher at the time. A height that I felt in my gut, and that seemed to make my head spin just a little. It took a while to steel my nerve, but the exhilaration was unforgettable! Always better with a good friend.
The dinghy dock gets busy early on race day. The harbor is shrouded in mist but the sun is already starting to burn through. The forecast is calling for a sunny day with a solid sea breeze to fill the sails. Bring some extra ice, some extra water and make sure you’ve got your sunglasses!
“Busy on the Dinghy Dock”
“Feels like a short story, or the beginning of a crime drama…” is how one friend described this painting.
oil on board (9 x 18)
Oil on board (12 x 20)
They call this place "hells half acre", but it seems pretty nice to me. Islands Camp, Devil and Bold. And how many pecks to a bushel of clams? Oil on board 16" x 12" (Private collection)
The crew of Black Watch tidy’s up loose ends following a race before heading into Brooklin Harbor.
We sail into Brooklin Harbor on a late afternoon in August, the harbor buzzing with activity. Classic wooden yachts compete eagerly for the attention of passing tenders, passing dinghies, passing skiffs, as the sun begins its descent, over Babson Island, over Deere Island, to eventually settle in behind the highest of the Camden Hills. (“Settling in for the Evening” Oil on Panel 16” x 16”)
An afternoon of bright sunshine in hell’s half acre. From the East, a blanketing fog can roll in like a slow inhale, sometimes closing visibility down to almost nothing. But just as often, that fog rolls out like a deep sigh of contentment. (”Fog Bank” Oil Painting on Panel 18” x 24”)
You responsibly inspect the anchor rode while staring into the bright glare of a soon to- be setting sun. And as you slowly wander aft for that celebratory Dark and Stormy with your mates, you find the cockpit all in shadows. Your eyes adjust to the dusk but at first you notice only patterns of light and shadow; a shard of bright green at the crest of a wave; or a sudden flash of reflected sunlight. To the North, you notice the arrival of a schooner, still bathed in light, getting ready to anchor between us and Grog Island, and grateful for your afternoon encounter with the lobsterman, you’re pleased to see that supper is nearly ready. (Mixed media on Museum Bond 24” x 24”)
There’s a symbiotic relationship that exists between sailors and fishermen. We look out for one another, knowing that despite a somewhat tentative relationship, the other might come in handy if we get into some sort of trouble… mechanically or otherwise! We could head back into Stonington to buy a dozen. But aren’t they catching them to sell them anyhow? It certainly sets the bar pretty high for others claiming to be selling “fresh seafood”!
( Oil on Rag Panel 10” x 10”)
gouache on paper, 2017 (private collection)
Northern New England girls are a heartier breed than their ‘south of the Cape’ cousins. It’s not likely that those girls would repeatedly jump into 60º water for the sheer joy of it!
(21” x 42”) mixed media on Museum Bond
(11” x 14”) oil on treated paper.
“Fata Morgana” is the term given to those curiously tall mirage-like distortions that make Islands appear to float above cold water. But it’s also the name given to the fairy sorceress and sister of King Arthur. A mischievous creature capable of shape shifting, and long blamed for the creation of these optical illusions.
(Oil painting on panel 24” x 32” by Frank Hyer, 2020)
A nighttime approach to Rockland Harbor brings you past the Rockland Head Lighthouse. It’s beacon is still strong, but seems no match for the majesty of a rising full moon behind it. This curious backlit effect is all the more enticing when we notice the sailboat heading out on a starboard tack for Vinylhaven.
Sailing through the Islands of penobscot bay is extraordinary, but with the speed of an open runabout those distances are foreshortened and the journey becomes something quite different!
(12” x 16”) oil on panel.
By Frank Hyer (2020)
Windswept! Two of my favorite people on the ferry from Lincolnville to Warren Island. The green of Penobscot Bay. The hum of the ferry's powerful diesel engines, and 20 knots of breeze churning the water south of us to melted silver!
12 x 16 Oil on board
Private commission
The fading light of autumn! And there's a bittersweetness to that fading light. As evening approaches, the temperature drops and we're grateful that we pulled on that hooded sweatshirt. The sun has set, but the western sky glows like the embers of a fire smoldering in the wood stove.
"Seasons at a Cross Road".
Oil painting on canvas on board,
(12 x 16)
We keep a small plywood panel stored under the starboard lazarette for these occasions. The panel is brought up on deck and sits directly beneath a propane burner to protect the teak. The burner roars, making quick work of the steamed clams, which are then eaten with butter and beer while the main course of lobsters cook.
“Chicken in The Pot” 16 x 16 oil on panel
I’ve had a number of recent conversations debating wether or not an artistic endeavor can exist without an accompanying narrative, either implied by the artist, or as interpreted by his or her audience. I happen to believe that all “art is story telling“! Wether it happens to be the artist's intention or not!
The painting that I’m sharing with you today, is about light, and movement. And Yes, I am telling some lies with regard to the sea state. But those lies are in support of certain truths that I’m hoping to express.
Not everyone has had the opportunity to experience sunlight shining through the crests of a following sea. Or to stand on the deck of a sailboat on a blazing hot summer afternoon running wing on wing down Isle Au Haut Bay, reveling in the cool shade that the main sail will provide until you must round up near the Brown Cow to Mark Island Ledge, following the Deer Island Thorofare to Humpkins Ledge settling into the anchorage in Hell’s half acre with the promise of a swim and a cold beer...maybe two.
“Running down Isle Au Haut Bay”
Oil on board (24” x 48”)
Graphite and glazes on Arches Printmaking Paper (14” x 20”)
Oil on board 12x16
Pretty sure these guys were heading East as we were heading west through the Fox Island Thorofare...it’s not unusual to see a couple Herreshoff 12.5’s tacking back and forth just past North Haven. This guy didn’t even wave as he sailed past, but I loved the way the sunlight made his sails glow!
Oil on prepared canvas (8 x 10)
Shadows are long now. The sun just visible above the Camden Hills. The plan was for you to join the rest of the crew for dinner, but dinner can wait. You think to yourself, the season’s late, the boat will be returning home tomorrow and the forecast for the delivery calls for rain, fog and light air. Best to linger a while, taking it all in, with deep appreciation for another amazing day of sailing.
Follow the river back into town and we’ll meet for some holiday cheer. The sun sure sets early this time of year, but the river lights are lovely!
Unlike a “bareboat charter” the “time charter” is operated by the captain, typically with a mate, or two to assist in the handling of the vessel. I’ve been told stories about less-than-qualified crews, who terrorize the passengers for the duration. But I’ve also heard about terrifying customers, who would have made Captain Bligh squirm. Usually, it all works out, and the Captain, the Crew and their customers enjoy an afternoon of sailing with nothing but pleasant memories!
The Two O’clock Charter” (16 x 16) Oil on board.
A commission to commemorate this very special place. On Hermit Island, Maine. A view through the Bath Tub, across Sunset Lagoon towards Osprey Point.
Oil on Board (24”x24”)
Oil on Panel
(12”x 20”)
Oil on Board (8x10)
Oil on Stretched Canvas (11x14)
Last August, while en route to Brooklin Maine and the Eggemoggin Reach Regatta, we found ourselves motoring, “cheek to jowl” with “Hesper”, a wooden 60’ gaff rigged pilot cutter built in 2004 by Luke Powell. With her overhanging stern and graceful bowsprit, Hesper was voted “the most photogenic”within this fleet of extraordinarily photogenic wooden sailboats. But for this painting, I’ve cropped out the bow and stern and have focused my attention on the solidness of both the Hesper and her crew as they plow effortlessly through the green waters of the gulf of Maine.
Oil over shellac on Strathmore
32” square
