Bloody Butcher Corn

Bloody Butcher Corn

Oil Pastel and gesso on recycled wood

6 1/2 x 3 7/16 x 7/16"

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Every 1st and 3rd Saturday during the winter I will usually go to the indoor farmer's market in Mt. Vernon, IA. I love the drive to Mt. Vernon along Mt. Vernon Rd., it's not too long, but it's pretty and there is one particular abandoned homestead along the way that inspires daydreams about a house, studio, garden, chickens and goats in the country. Mt. Vernon is an incredibly charming town that is also home to the Lincoln Cafe, one of my all-time favorite restaurants. It is among my top four favorite restaurants that we have eaten at in the different cities we have lived in or near including Center Street Cafe in Jamaica Plain, MA, M. Henry's in Chicago, IL, and Chef's Table in Iowa City which is sadly now closed. 

One particular Saturday I met a vendor who was selling bags of ground blue and red cornmeal. He also had a couple of bags of each of the seeds. I was excited about the cornmeal for several reasons and bought some, but I couldn't walk away without getting at least a few of the seeds. They were beautiful. So far I had only been working with the widely available varieties of yellow seeds and was so excited about getting varieties of a different color. Fortunately the vendor was kind enough to give me a few of the red and blue seeds to take home . . . along with a slightly odd look. He told me the red corn is called Bloody Butcher Corn. It has been grown in the U.S. since 1845, most websites say it was grown in Virginia, and is apparently best used for corn meal or flour. 

Upon investigating some of the history of the Bloody Butcher Corn I stumbled across this story of the role of this variety of corn in one family's history.

http://farm2u.org/appalachian-culinary-landscape/food-story/farming/folklore/the-legend-of-the-bloody-butcher-corn/

Sweet Pea Pairing

Sweet Pea Pairing

Oil Pastel, gesso, recycled wood

25 x 20 3/16 x 2 1/16"

All of the wood used for this painting was from the same pallet. I love the even gray patina of the weathered wood. Most of the time the recycled wood that I like to use is warped and that always poses a challenge, either in framing or in using it as the painting surface. This time it was an issue for both. I really wanted a rough, unfinished surface for the painting though. For me it emulates the feeling of gardening. The act of gardening for me is always a little disorganized and uncontrolled. When I start seeds I use random yogurt containers - usually of different sizes (since we don't always buy the same brand) as well as old containers and beat up six packs from the year before that I bought plants in. I try to gather my materials for trellises or walls from unused materials around our house and yard. Nothing is uniform in size or shape, but the seeds always sprout and grow into healthy plants. This painting feels like my garden. Not every board is uniform in size, the wood surfaces vary in roughness, there are old nail holes, but the painting of the seeds still dominates. 

Winter Views From My Bench

It's always a little easier to sit in my studio and work during the winter when it's cold and cloudy outside. I love the snow and I love to take the three monkeys sledding, but the garden isn't begging my attention, the lawn doesn't need to be mowed, the laundry is dried in a machine instead of on the line, etc. etc. The summer is always a very busy time outside and less productive inside. This is one reason I enjoy winter - I have more time to create indoors. I still can't help but spend some time gazing out the window at the snow or contemplating the patterns of frost that form on my old window though - especially when my kids are outside running, jumping, sliding and shrieking with joy.

The south facing window to the right of my bench is original to the house and consequently very leaky. I love the fabulous frost patterns and that are created on it though and the sweat that forms when the sun reaches it's high point in the sky. 

After several months of cold, snow and frost I'm ready for this view from my basement gardening corner.