The summer exhibition at Hammertown gave me a chance to look at people while they looked at my work. At the two official "Visit with the Artist" sessions, I also got a chance to talk with people about the paintings. I want my work to be out in the world, to somehow make a difference. I need pay attention to what people say about what they see. Below are some of the ideas I shared with Hammertown visitors.

Painting allows one to rediscover the wonder of seemingly very simple things. These weeks in the studio, the joy is about fruit with leaves on it. Yes, I love painting fruits and vegetables of all sorts without leaves. But there is something very special about painting them when they have their leaves on. Sadly, coming by fruits so adorned is not easy. Not a leaf in site in the supermarkets I visit. Even at the Union Square Farmers' Market that I am blessed to be able to enjoy on the way to my city studio, most apples and pears have been separated from their leaves. Luckily, in Pine Plains, Northern Dutchess county, I have access to Farmers' Markets that are within walking distance of the orchards where the fruit are grown. The short trip from orchard to farm stand to my country studio means I can find and paint fruit with leaves still attached.

On Saturday, August 11, I spent a couple of hours, from 2:00 to 4:00, listening to and talking with folks who were interested in the paintings at the Hammertown Gallery, . There were questions, general discussion, and pleasant chatting; but I also went to the event with some prepared comments. I arrived with three issues to cover.

Essentially all of my recent paintings were hanging in the Hammertown Gallery. My studio was looking quite empty and feeling a bit lonely. The only wall that remained populated was the screen on which I had hung my painter's smock (once a French farmer's smock), assorted scarfs, and one of my favorite Picasso posters of a seated circus performer. The other walls were pretty bare.

For the last several weeks, my studio in Pine Plains was chock full of paintings. The pieces were in all stages of readiness for the exhibition currently on view through Labor Day at The Gallery, Hammertown, Rhinebeck (click here for their website, www.hammertown.com).

On the left is my Pochade box, the very same painter's box that I used in Wellfleet last summer (see post from August 25, 2011). As shown here, it was on its way to 10 days in Paris. Not wanting to arrive rusty at the Luxembourg Gardens, I practiced a bit with this traveling equipment on the upstairs roof of our apartment building in New York City. What you see in the box's lid, the lid that becomes an easel, is a quick sketch of our roof pergola against the city sky. My plan was to visit Luxembourg Gardens and several other parks with this little box in hand, and to do quick oil sketches like the one shown here.

When I say Ula sticks very close to me when I paint, I am not kidding. Here she is wedged right between the feet of my easel. All those oil colors are precariously close to her light hair. It's a worry. But, oh, what a wonderful face to look down upon!

Even when the weather is not perfect, when it is overcast and it drizzles a little too persistently, the light in Paris is marvelous. I struggle with finding the right words. It's something I feel only in Paris, nowhere else -- a sense that life is being lit just as it should be.

If you are curious about what happens when an artist paints,if you have ever wanted to be a fly on the studio wall, see this movie. Click here for the film's website (www.gerhard-richter-painting.de/the_film.php). It is currently playing at the Film Forum in Manhattan and has been held over long beyond its expected closing date.

Varying our route from home to studio yesterday, Ula and I found these lovely flowers in each of the tree wells on 11th Street, between Fifth Avenues and University. Popularly known as "Lenten Roses," their timing was perfect.

In the late fall of 2011, I had the delightful experience of painting Dorothy Truman's portrait. Not surprisingly, the work was a wonderful journey with another person. Below, I have posted Dorothy's reflections on our mornings together.

In his wonderful book on what it was like to be painted by Lucien Freud, Martin Gayford shares how much and how closely he was able to look at the painter as he worked. Gayford well makes the point that it is not just the painter who does the observing. Lots has been said about how the painter sees; new is the increasing amount of attention to what the model sees and has to report.

When Tim Jones and I first talked about a portrait project, just about a year ago, the pose I had in mind was of Tim at work. In Pine Plains and neighboring communities, Tim is well-known as a sixth-generation blacksmith who uses his formidable skills in the design and production of beautiful metal furniture. I could see a painting of him in his workshop studio, near his forge, anvil, and other tools.

A painted portrait results from the work that at least two people do together. The painter and the person being painted -- the model, the subject of the painting -- make the art. An understanding of what happens when a portrait is being created requires that we hear from both sides. Amia Lieblich, a friend and colleague, helps us understand.

Several friends who read my last blog about my new dog, Ula, said they would like to see some examples of those paintings with little dogs that I wrote about in the post. At left is Goya's haunting painting, The Dog, from his Black Paintings series.

For the first time ever in my life, I have a dog. Ula, a tiny 12-month-old Havanese, and I are learning to do many things together these days, but my absolute most favorite thing is to have Ula at my side while I paint in the studio.

Given that the temperature falls a little bit everyday, trees are already changing their colors and dropping acorns, and students are returning to classes, I thought it time to post photographs of my most summer-full experience.

Although visitors to the Hammertown Exhibition have responded positively to all the paintings hanging on the walls, it is the painting of the silver bowl with the watermelon radishes that really gets their attention. The bright pink of the watermelon radishes intrigues them. They ask me what exactly those objects are: “They look like radishes on the outside but like figs on the inside.”