There are places my father returns to again and again—not just physically, but internally. My parents loved the coast of Maine and made many trips and excursions to paint and enjoy the unique ambiance. I accompanied them on one of those trips in the 80s. It was a magical place.The Grinders, Maine was one of those places. When Bill painted this shoreline, he wasn’t chasing drama. He was listening for the steady presence of the coast: granite ledges shaped by weather and tide, dark evergreens standing watch, and the calm patience of open water. Underwater, the seabed was loose rocks and boulders, ever grinding a low rumble, vibrating the ground.

The watercolor is anchored by broad slabs of rock—confidently suggested rather than over-described—so the structure stays strong while the paint remains free. Subtle shifts of warm blush and cool blue let the land and sea speak to each other without noise. Even the trees are kept honest: a few decisive passages that hold the horizon in place.