Meghan Weeks, plein air painter
Making the leap to a full-time painting life, what it’s like to handle a Sargent painting, and adventures working outside
Meghan Weeks got her first lesson on how to successfully sell art when she was 10 years old:
Walk into a high-end gallery in Nantucket.
Offer your bespoke art, which in this case was painted quahog shells.
Be fearless.
Agree happily when the gallerist offers 50% of the proceeds.
Meghan grew up in Boston and spent time in Nantucket surrounded by artists. She has been drawing and painting since childhood. Painting has been a constant, she says, recalling that even in college when she was studying architecture, her dorm room was equipped with an easel at the ready. For many years she worked as a museum curator at the Boston Public Library. About a year ago, she boldly decided to leave her full-time job to focus on painting. I think there should be a special word for this moment in an artist’s life when painting professionally seems doable.
Meghan is equally skilled at painting cityscapes and New England landscapes, and has a penchant for capturing high-contrast, brief moments when light bathes the side of a house, a city building, or the ocean in a special way. During a recent visit to her studio, my husband and I were immediately drawn to the in-progress painting on her easel (see it above). The subject is an alley off Rockport’s Main St., overlooking the ocean. It also happened to be the alley next to a friend’s house. A patinated mailbox guarded the former bank building and long, early winter shadows decorated the alley and sides of the surrounding structures. I’ve walked past this scene hundreds of times but appreciated its beauty for the first time, thanks to Meghan.
You were making art from a young age and then studied architecture and got a degree in Curating the Art Museum. Can you talk about the path that you've been on?
I've painted or drawn as long as I can remember, thanks to my parents. I was one of those kids who asked a lot of questions. I was only quiet when I had some kind of painting or drawing instrument in my hand, so I was plied with art supplies from a young age. I learned to draw alongside learning how to write and speak.
I was a relatively precocious kid and got into the Nantucket gallery scene when I was really young. I was exposed to the artist community in Nantucket and would see people out painting and see paintings in galleries and storefronts. When I was 10, I painted quahog shells and took a basket of them to a high-end gallery and asked if they would sell them. I was fearless (unlike now)! The gallerist offered me a 50% commission and said she would sell them for $10. That lit my world on fire.
Then at 14, I joined the Artists Association of Nantucket and began showing work in their exhibitions; I was able to make enough from art sales during high school that it became a summer job. I went on to college [Yale] as an art and physics major. I loved physics in high school. The visual intuitive nature of it made so much sense, and it was so fun and explorative; I especially loved studying optics and mechanics.
You shifted to architecture and then went on to museum studies.
The art program in college was weighted toward conceptual work, and I sort of recoiled from that idea. And I was tired of doing [physics] problem sets, so I landed on architecture, because I could use some of my course credits from those other subjects
I worked at the Yale Center for British Art as an undergraduate and fell in love with the world of museums and curating. I went to graduate school [The Courtauld Institute of Art, London] to study curating and art history and went into that as a career.
How did your architecture studies influence your painting?
I had one architectural drawing class, which resonated most with me in the early stages of the major. I would go around campus and draw buildings and structures and doorways and details. I think it was intended to be an exercise in looking more than in draftsmanship.
I ended up focusing on architectural history, theory, and criticism, and wrangled my senior thesis to be about the whale houses and fishermen's cottages of Eastern Nantucket. I had an excuse to delve into the history and preservation of these buildings that I had painted many times and continue to paint. I am drawn to structures that have either stood the test of time, that need a little TLC, or have character because of their patina or sagging roof.
That project opened up a lot of doors professionally. I went on to work as a curator at the Boston Public Library for 10 years, and focused on the architecture and art of the historic Central Library building.
During your time at the Boston Public Library you also worked with a John Singer Sargent mural cycle.
I worked in exhibitions and curatorial roles at BPL for ten years. During my time there, I served as one of the stewards of John Singer Sargent’s Triumph of Religion mural cycle, which is an incredibly complex work that spanned three decades of his career. One of my favorite projects was organizing a lecture series and providing the introductory lecture to celebrate the centennial of his final mural installation at BPL. Since leaving my role there, I am continuing to research his work with the goal of publication.
What drove your decision to leave your job and paint full-time?
I had always balanced a part-time art career against full-time institutional work, and never felt like I gave my own art practice enough time. I think that the pandemic accelerated a lot of people’s career moves for better or worse, and that was a good signal to try to invert that balance.
I’m thankful to have been part of an institution that does so much good for so many people, and a decade mark felt like an appropriate point to start a new chapter. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to turn my first love into a full-time career.
Tell me about your approach to plein air painting. Are you finishing your paintings outside?
The nature of my painting outdoors is that I’m constantly adapting in trying to capture a moment. It's almost inevitable that I’m going to be capturing in my mind how certain shapes look at certain times during the session and combining them in my painting as if it was a moment in time.
It can be difficult to work up something completely onsite. I tend to move around a lot, and I like painting different weather patterns, so I end up painting what I can outdoors and then finalizing the piece in the studio. You could say it is a note-taking process outdoors and an editing process back inside.
That being said, sometimes I'll work up small pieces outdoors that are truly one-shots that retain a freshness. I don't go back in and rework those, and they will either be finished pieces or studies for larger pieces that I work up completely in studio.
You mentioned editing. Can you talk about how you approach that?
I'm still learning and hope to be learning for the rest of my life.
Outdoors, I’ll move around to get a view of my subject that has roughly the composition I like. Other painters will move a fence post one way, shift a tree, or add a tree, but that’s not how I approach things. As a result, there might be elements that line up, such as a horizon line that matches up with the gutter line of a building I'm painting. If compositionally that isn't the best, I might raise or lower one or the other slightly, but not reinvent the scene.
I tend to be intuitive and instinctive when I'm onsite, and more cerebral when I'm back in studio, processing what's working or what's not working.
When I’m outdoors, I wear glasses with UV protection to try to protect my eyes when I'm painting bright sand or snow. But sometimes when I’m outdoors for a long time, my eyes tire more easily and it's difficult to read the register [range of lights and darks] of a painting. Sometimes I go back to the studio, and the register works really well. But when it doesn't, I’m working to bring it back to that impression I had on site, so it becomes memory work.
You paint many city scenes. How do you decide what you're going to paint?
I have a portfolio of spots that I know would make a good painting in a certain light condition or at a specific time of day.
I also have a working catalog of places that I have painted before that I'd like to paint again but differently, or places that I've seen on a walk or a run or cycling that I'd like to try. But I could be walking down the street and get totally waylaid by an interesting combination of light and shadow.
There’s an Edward Hopper quote, “What I wanted to do was to paint sunlight on the side of a house.” Those interesting moments can be fleeting. But if you spend enough time really looking at an object, everything becomes interesting in some way, shape, or form.
When I’m painting in a city, I also think about safety when I chose a subject and equipment. I have a small urban easel that I'll use on city streets because I don’t want to block people who are trying to cross a street or use a path. But when I have the space, I'll use my larger easel, which is more weather-ready.
Tell me about your two easels.
Oh, I probably have 12 easels! I have an easel problem the way some people have shoe problems [she smiles].
I have two outdoor easels that I use regularly: my Take It easel from Vermont, and a James Coulter art box and panel set up, which is a connected tripod, pochade box with a tension hold that folds out, and a mast.
I also have two, less-than-ideal studio easels right now. One was pulled from a fire at the old Kendall Center for the Arts in Belmont. It’s a rickety Phoenix, but probably not the best one. My other one was rescued from a dumpster and has a few parts missing.
My next big purchase is an easel of top quality—a nice H-frame for the studio.
Has anything surprising or interesting happened while painting outside?
I'm constantly surprised by the encounters I have with people when I'm painting. I usually wear earbuds in silent mode so I can be aware of what's going on around me, but also signal that I'm actively working.
I've had conversations with folks who offered full critiques or said, “that doesn't look as good as it could!” Or someone will say their aunt/brother/cousin/friend paints and they will show me their online portfolio, which I don’t think they realize is an interruption. I don't have the disposition to shut that down. Maybe I need to put on a really brutal exterior and scare people away rather than inviting them to ask questions [she smiles].
But I've had lovely encounters with people and sometimes the owner or inhabitant of the building I’m painting will come out. More than once they’ve shared historic images of the building. That happened recently in Nantucket when I was painting a pair of houses in Madaket [see below]. When I learn about the history of a place, it often draws me into painting it.
Tell me about this affliction you had related to small cars.
My husband used to joke that I have “small car syndrome” [she laughs]. I'd paint a car adjacent to a building, and it ended up looking like a go-kart. I'd have no idea until I step away or I’d show him or someone else and then say, "Why is that car so small?" [she laughs more].
You have a really cool signature. How did it come about?
I really loved school, but I wasn’t immune to the occasional daydream or margin doodle in class. I realized early on the cool mirroring properties of initials M and W, and worked up some designs as a kid that ended up—along with a middle initial C—morphing into my signature on paintings and an eventual logo. Something like this…
Besides Boston, do you have a favorite city for admiring architecture and for plein air painting?
I lived in London when I went to graduate school, so I'm biased toward London. There's such a wonderful community of plein air painters there. Even amidst the gray weather that you can often get, I can find some drama with the chroma and coloring on the buildings. I also like painting in Edinburgh, which is where my husband is from. There are modulated facades and colorful doorways.
You participate in many different art communities and have a studio in the Boston South End (SOWA).
I just became an artist member of the Rockport Art Association, and I’m honored to be a part of that given its history. I joined the Copley Society of Art in Boston in 2021, and I’ve been a member of the Artists Association of Nantucket since I was 14. I've also shown paintings at the Bryan Memorial Gallery in Vermont.
Within a community of artists, even if we have completely different approaches, a lot of us are trying to do the same thing—celebrate the world around us. One of the greatest joys as an artist is spotting something that someone else might not and bringing that experience or enjoyment to a completely new audience.
You show your work during open studios at SOWA. What kind of comments or questions do you get from visitors?
A lot of my work is site-specific, and sometime people will say, "Oh, my partner and I walked down that very street!” When I ask them to name the place, they might say Prague, and I will reply, "Oh, that's Paris." Someone told me I should just agree that it’s the place someone thinks it is, but I feel bad lying. I’m sure I’ve lost sales in some situations, but I don’t want to misrepresent a painting.
One time someone thought a London city street painting I made was Memorial Drive in Boston, and I realized, it almost could be, except the cars are on the other side of the road!
Tell me about your latest self-portrait that you posted on Instagram.
It's a unique form of torture [she laughs]. I just get to stand there and stare at my face and realize that I have a spot where I didn't have a spot last week.
I am fascinated by portraiture but have also been intimidated to try it. I did a lot of in-depth studies into John Singer Sargent, starting in college and continuing throughout graduate school. Now, even though landscapes are my thing, I wanted to commune with some of the artists that I admire, everybody from Sargent to Walter Richard Sickert to Lucian Freud to Berthe Morisot, and Titus Kaphar.
As far as portrait painting is concerned, I'm definitely in the learning stage. Portraits are much more difficult than landscapes. We innately see when a portrait of a person looks nothing like the person or doesn't capture their likeness. You have to be so precise and thoughtful about what to put in and what not to over-articulate.
There's a studio group out in Waltham that meets and works on projects together at Leo Mancini-Hresko’s studio. I’m learning from Leo, and that has been excellent.
Who are some of the teachers who have been influential?
Leo has taken me under his wing as a portrait student. I previously studied with Tom Dunlay. I’ve also learned in workshop formats from artists Marc Dalessio and Ben Fenske.
Also, I attended Stapleton Kearns’ snowcamp workshop in 2018, which was a gamechanger. It introduced me to the joys of winter outdoor painting, and I discovered the gear and materials I needed to be comfortable painting in any weather. But also, Stape was one of the first artists that I looked up to who said, "You should give this a shot full-time. It’s not going to be easy, but you can do it." It took me another four years to quit my day job, but I sure am thankful for that nudge.
What is the best advice that you received about making art or being an artist?
Stape said, if you're trying to sell art as a career, move your pieces around [various communities and galleries] to find the right audience for them. What might resonate with one audience won’t necessarily work for another, so it’s good to consider different options in terms of galleries and regions.
Lightening round questions
What's the largest painting you’ve produced?
It’s a mural I did in my childhood. It was a commission in my parents' basement for $125. It took me two years, and it’s probably about 20 feet long.
What was the subject of the mural?
It was a variation on dogs playing poker [she smiles]. The perspective was horrible because I was 10 years old, and I was trying to continue the checkered pattern from the floor. I wanted to be a Disney animator, and someone told me I needed to create all my own characters, so I painted in an elephant, a frog, a dog that had become my regularly appearing character, and a lion at the center. This was around the time of The Lion King, so that probably had something to do with the latter.
When I finished it, I dated it AD 1997, because I was studying Pompeii in school. I thought by adding the date I would be helping the archeologists who would discover it when they excavated the house, covered in ash, 600 years in the future [she laughs].
Is your mural still there?
Yes. And, it hasn't been covered by volcanic ash yet [she smiles].
What’s been a particularly captivating art-related experience?
The first time I was able to handle a Sargent painting.
Like so many contemporary artists, I find Sargent’s application of paint completely alluring. My first encounter handling his work was actually in a placement year at the Royal Academy of Arts during graduate school. With a nitrile-gloved hand, I (very carefully) helped to move An Interior in Venice when it was off-view. I remember wanting to take in that moment with every sense possible—sight, smell, the sensation of briefly holding the weight of the painting in its frame—almost as though I was hoping I might get a tiny bit of his magic from that close contact.
What's been your most memorable meal?
My husband and I had a 12-course omakase [meal with chef’s choice of foods, focused on seasonal ingredients] in Hakone, Japan. The meal was at the whim of the chef and made with fresh, delectable, unnamed, and, in some cases, unknown to me ingredients. Every bite was a new experience and completely unfamiliar.
Do you like to cook?
Yes, and I think my creative impulses as an artist give me false confidence as a chef! [she laughs]. Sometimes I mix spices the way I mix paint colors, but it doesn't work that way with spices and flavors. If you mix too many of them, it can be a complete disaster!
Do you have a painting you won't sell?
It’s a painting I made right before we moved out of our last apartment. It captured everything as it was; objects that are still familiar that we might still have, some of which we don't, all in their place. It’s very loose and rough. Sometimes I'll prop it up in my studio, and a lot of people ask about it because it’s an interior and, therefore, an outlier.
What's the favorite piece of art you own?
It’s an etching by David Young Cameron, who was a prolific etcher, engraver, and printmaker in late 19th and mainly early 20th century Scotland. It captures a bend in the river that I know so well from when I did a residency in Fife, Scotland, and painted the landscape.
Palate & Palette menu
Here’s the menu I would serve if Meghan and her husband came to dinner, which they are invited to do:
Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad with Apples, Hazelnuts, and Brown Butter Dressing
Zuni Café Roasted Chicken with Bread Salad
Roasted Cauliflower with Lime and Pumpkin Seeds
Huckleberry’s Chocolate Chocolate Tea Cake
Where to find Meghan Weeks (and you should!)
Studio #307, 450 Harrison Ave., Boston
Meghan Weeks
@meghanweeksartist
Robert Foster Fine Art, 8 India St., Nantucket, MA
Copley Society of Art, 158 Newbury St., Boston
The Artists Association of Nantucket
Rockport Art Association
I was intrigued by the amount of thought and physical as well as emotional perspective that goes into each of Meghan's works. What a delightful interview! I would love to cook a dinner for the artist, too!
The lighting in the first paining is so beautiful. Meaghan Weeks certainly has an interesting educational and professional background to draw from. Very impressive! It's so funny that observers interrupt without considering that she is hard at work.