“Every summer, my mother, whose stage name was Sherry Linden, worked as a pianist/singer in different resort towns throughout New England. When I was eleven, she began working at the famous Oceanside Hotel,…

“Silent snowfall on deep woods; the crunching of my footsteps in the dry, thick snow; the promise of a warm fireplace and hot cocoa when I reached home and shed my winter clothes.”—Eddie…

“One sunny day, we sat on the grass across the road and made black pencil studies of the cherry tree. Shadows took on new meaning for Emma that day. When I finally painted…

“The following day, I revisited the scene hoping to find the horses back in their grassy field. I noticed that the pair never left each other’s side while grazing. I was surprised to…

“I took a triple-take as I noticed a three-story treehouse in the process of being built, and looked for a place to park to study the scene for a while.”—Meredith d’Ambrosio The Disappearing…

“After settling in the lovely town of Duxbury, I was invited to mount a four-month solo exhibition at the Art Complex Museum of Duxbury, for which event the curator also asked me to…

“At first, I noticed that the glass panes of the porch door were reflecting mauve and other tones in the aftermath of the sunset. It seemed I must be in Norway’s latitudes, though…

“Though I wore heavy mittens, my fingers grew numb as I sketched this foggy, snow-drizzly scene onto a thick piece of wood.”—Meredith d’Ambrosio The Disappearing Land By Meredith d’Ambrosio DUXBURY Massachusetts—(Weekly Hubris)—2/23/2015—  …

“One day later, it began to snow again—a second storm! I ventured outside with plastic bags strapped to my boots and leggings, and plodded through the white-out to a steep winding downhill road,…

“Silent snowfall on deep woods; the crunching of my footsteps in the dry, thick snow; the promise of a warm fireplace and hot cocoa when I reached home and shed my winter clothes.”—Eddie…