MKarlen_Art: The Archives

In the mid-50s, my parents befriended Al & Bertha Larson in Wellfleet, Cape Cod. Al built, by hand, two seasonal cottages: The Fore & Aft. He built the shells in the summer and when the weather turned, he went inside and did the electric, plumbing, woodworking and floors. Al and Bertha sold the cottages to my parents in the '70s. For years, they were just summer rentals, until I realized that I could go up, off season, and paint there. I believe some of my most interesting... work was created in the Fore Cottage, staring out at Great Island and the bay and beyond. I worked for an oyster/clam man, I had wonderful quirky loner-type friends and I loved it. During one of the cyclical recessions, my parents got nervous, someone offered them good money, and in the time it takes to sign your name, the cottages were gone. These paintings came out of the mourning I felt, for years. I truly lost a visceral part of me. They are disturbing in a way. And, fascinating, too. See more

Apologies for the pause in Archive Action. Winner #5 to be announced this week. Stay tuned.....

I spent a lot of time on Cape Cod growing up. In fact, there are photos of us kids really young, in the bay, directly in front of the 2 cottages my parents were going to buy from an age-old friend (Al Larsen, and he built them with his own 2 hands). They were called the Fore & Aft. I was very attached to those cottages. The first time I quit my full time job to become a painter, I went straight to the Cape and painted The Peasant Series. After that, I made an annual trek of-...season to be alone and work. My parents sold the cottages without telling me. Sounds horrible, I know, and it really affected me but I'm over it now. We kids still try to get to the Cape every summer. This is one surviving painting of the emotion that I felt after I found out the cottages were gone.

These intimate, creepy-figured, dark, luscious imaginary landscapes were painted around 1998-99. All small and shadowed. Looking back on them now, do they seem to reflect a tortured artist's mind? As I recall, I remember painting what I saw in my head and these images were pouring out of me. I was not depressed and I was not a nihilist. I was actually really happy.