Stalking the Wild Island Artwork

Imagine a Good Housekeeping garden party; now mix it with Monty Python grail seeking, a dash of Audubon walk, and a pinch of street fair. You’ve roughly got the Peaks Island Art Walk and Wander—emphasis on the “Wander.” Many downtowns, including Portland, hold a monthly “art walk” through galleries. At each city’s version, a sense of crawling crowds pervades. The Peaks Art Walk, in contrast, unfolds more like an island-wide treasure hunt. You have to stay on your toes!

First there’s the map. When can you get one? Where have they been stashed?  The artists don’t mean to keep it secret, but invariably a last minute “runner” or accuracy scrutiny brings changes. Maps are distributed around the island, not the mainland, so visit local businesses—Peaks Cafe, DownFront ice-cream, Gem gallery, Brad’s Bikes, or the Cockeyed Gull—to obtain one.

Then there’s the ticking clock. Hours are 3:00 to 7:00. On my chance to wander the four allotted hours, I pick out the furthest outposts. I get a great workout riding my island bike, but come up with only a one-studio-per-hour average. At least I know what I want to see. Starting at Victor Romanyshyn, I view the caliber of rendering I thought died with Rembrandt. Victor’s color print process makes photography more like painting. I start to drool over his still life of two orange slices placed before a variably dark and bright pastel, every grain of chalk in focus. Then again, the mouthwatering could come from the smell of his mom’s spaghetti, fresh tomatoes, and olives. I stagger out, following my travel companion up an unmarked trail. We’re off the map . . . with no snacks.

Our bikes hop tree roots, and splash mud, emerging by a pond where a lone seagull floats. Two boys block the path, sword fighting with invisible foils. “We’re Ninjas!” they announce. Luckily, I guess the password. We cross a twig bridge and a stream of stepping stones—yes, with bikes, then ride to the backshore and around to Peg Astarita’s.

Along the way, each studio beckons with balloons, easels, umbrellas, and a fringed pirate flag declaring “ART!” At Astarita’s, a handmade sign, nailed to a tree, points into deep woods, where carved stone faces hide, and a crumpled, rusted car stands like a guitar. I adjust my mosquito armor and advance to the garage, up a winding ramp, to a wide view of Hussey Sound. I relax into the cathedral space and into Peg’s overflow of joy, inspiring me to buy a Kirin Friedman coffee mug, whose glaze reminds me of dandelion seeds, and a figure-eight Astarita olive bowl. (Which one is the Grail? I’m not sure.) Harry Stout’s hand-carved wooden spoons tempt me too, but the sun slants.

We hightail the bikes down to the painted windowpane on Island Ave., the Peaks Island Glass Studios, where we rest in squares of light, filtered through dangling colored panels. I munch homemade apple bread and cheese. Jane Newkirk’s latest work, a secret gift, takes shape on her bench, while a Brooklyn art director touts a neighborhood restaurant, which turns out to be Jane’s former employer. I can’t stay for the end of that. I’ve only visited three studios, and there’s just fifteen minutes left!

By the time I approach Paul Brahms on Luther Street, he’s pushing off on his bike into the sunset. My trusty companion makes an offering of sparklers and fireballs. Paul reopens his tiny vaulted box of a room. Familiar with Brahms’s peopled beachscapes, I’m taken with his still life of onions, multi-layered light he describes as “impossible to capture.” I hold up his skillful copy of a 1950s ad for white bread. We push the seven o’clock envelope for the stories behind each.

A free public event, the Peaks Art Walk allows entry to 25 very private worlds. There is no organization behind the event, no public funds, no grants, and yet it continues and grows. Artists invest days and nights preparing each event, recurring monthly through the summer. Many receive no more than an audience, an interest, or conversations. Some invite other artists, even children to join in their mini-shows. The public is invited to a private party, but the result is a community celebration. Is the art walk a service, an enterprise, or a collective search for soul? Navigate your own answer at the next—and this year’s last—one: Saturday, August 28, info. at Gem Gallery, 766–5600.

by Sarah Goodman

The Island Times
July 19, 2004

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