studios « A Pigment of Your Imagination

Covino Portrait1 P1070431 PaintingWorkshopCovinoFrank4-2015

Dear Artists and Friends,

It is with ineffable sadness in our hearts, that I must report this news. Our friend and long-time art teacher and mentor, Maestro Frank Covino, passed away suddenly on Tuesday, February 16, 2016, after being pronounced “cleared of cancer” just last week.

If I may use a bold simile, his loss feels like looking up at the mountains in Sugarbush, where Frank worked hard to build the home he loved, and seeing that the grandest of summits has disappeared from our sight.

Here is a note from his wife, Barbara Covino, that you will all want to read:

Subject: It is with a deep abiding sorrow in my heart that I write this letter…forgive the delay but it has taken time to believe this is true…

Beloved friends and family , one and all,

After two days of profoundest shock, and countless tears I realize I must write you. It is with a heavy, heavy heart that i must inform you that dear Frank has passed away unexpectedly on Tuesday night, February 16th. It was quick and he did not suffer–a death we would all prefer–but he had been progressing so well, it was a gut-wrenching shock that still is unbelievable.

I truly cannot imagine a world, or a life without him…32 years of happiness and adventure. Life was never boring with him!!! What an amazing talent, a brilliant man with a wealth of knowledge, a gentle and sensitive man who had to excel in everything he did, and was thus an inspiration to all who knew him. He encouraged others to strive for excellence and to believe in themselves, giving them the tools to create a positive reality in their lives, whether it be art or health. We all can repeat that golden maxim: IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO AMELIORATE! Wise encouraging words, those.

But he was more than the sum of his parts; he was a genuine force of nature, a real Renaissance man, but above all else, he had a kind heart and a very great soul. We all loved him so; there will never be another Frank. But I know it is now time for each and every one of us who was touched by his life, to take that spark and pass it on. He gave us wings and it is time for us to fly…Make him proud!!!

I am too choked up to continue writing. God Bless each and every one of you who had a place in his heart…family, friends, students….He loved you all sincerely and without guile….

We are in the process of collaborating with the family and planning both a smaller family funeral as well as a larger set of celebrations of his life and legacy open to all who loved him–one in Vermont and one on Long island. As soon as the Covino south clan and Mark and Jennifer and I hammer out the details, I will email you all, soon as can be done.

We are going to give that wonderful man a send off he won’t soon forget!!!

Love and blessings , Barbara Covino

PS: PLEASE FORWARD THIS to everyone you can think of. It has grown into a cast of hundreds, and forgive the delay but it has taken time to believe this is true.

As much fun as it isn’t, you just have to make a little studio space wherever you can. I am on my third (+ a temp or two) in the past ten years, and am eagerly awaiting my fourth, being built to specs by my husband and myself.

We live on ten-acres in the desert. Today it was 114 degrees so, of course, I stayed indoors. We are building our own house and if I find something that needs changing, we can do it ourselves. We’ve worked on this a long time, paying as we go, so money is always the issue (as it is for 99% of us).

Anyway, as a result of this state of continuing construction, I started out in a little corner of our household goods storage trailer, and here was my first painting space, among the washer, dryer, boxes, and books:

I quickly ran out of space so we enclosed the screen porch attached to the front of our travel trailer, turned it into a 7’x12′ kitchen, and the art moved in, quickly appropriating any extra cooking and eating space we had gained. Here it is with all the paintings I was working on at the time, complete with new red shoes and the first half of the Laurel and Heidi show:

And here is the second sleepy half, Heidi:

Finally, we decided we really needed that kitchen space so we restored a derelict 10’x16′ adobe (Surprise! The Golden Mean, 1:1.6) that came with the property, tearing out its wooden floor to find everything from rattlesnakes, to our missing jobsite Sharpies and paint stirrers stolen by the pack rats (I can understand the Sharpies, but how DID they get that long stick under that floor??). We replaced the floor with concrete, added interior beadboard walls, replaced the roof, added a door, two windows, a window AC unit, and special artist lighting. My husband now uses half for his temporary hamshack, and I use the other half as my studio. This penultimate 8’x10′ space is all mine–I’m moving up:

Then, my husband had a job in San Diego for a month, so I transported the supplies and my “feel good” paintings to our huge downtown loft accommodations. I didn’t know how to handle that much room so what did I do? Crowd in a corner, of course:

However, this is the quintessential upstairs studio I’m waiting for, although you have to use your imagination right now–but we painters have pretty good ones, no?

Bathroom, and balcony for sketching and painting in the Arizona winters.

Me, peeking around the balcony wall.

The studio spans the distance from balcony to dormer window, although the subfloor isn’t yet complete.

Here you can see the span. The dream studio will be about 25′ x 38′, plenty big enough for me!

Unretouched Arizona sunsets from the studio. Aren’t they amazingly beautiful?

And finally, during our Arizona Renaissance Art Guild workshops and our Frank Covino workshops held at the Gilbert Museum in Gilbert, Arizona, my space and that of all my artist friends, looks like this:

If you would like to join us sometime for one of our week-long workshops, or for our monthly Colony “paint togethers,” just let me know through this blog. We have a workshop coming up and as soon as I have solid dates, I will let you know.

All the best,

Marsha