How Adrienne Kernan LaVallée spent a lifetime finding her own artistic voice.
On one of the first truly warm days of summer, the doors to Adrienne Kernan LaVallée's studio stood open in Biddeford. Sunlight spilled across unfinished canvases, palette knives rested beside thick pools of oil paint, and dozens of brushes stood upright in recycled clam cans. Just down the road, Biddeford Pool shimmered under blue skies, but inside the studio, another landscape was taking shape. Some paintings leaned against the walls, waiting for another layer. Others were finished, filled with bright skies, sweeping marshes, sandy beaches, and unexpected flashes of hot pink and crimson that immediately caught the eye. Nothing in the room felt accidental.
At 73, LaVallée has spent nearly her entire life making art. She has taught it, studied it, experimented with it, questioned it, and eventually built a career around it. Today, after more than two decades teaching college students and a lifetime behind an easel, she paints with one simple goal.
"I want people to be happy and smile," she said. "I want to paint for my joy, my pleasure, and hopefully other people will plug into it."
Born Into Art
Some artists discover painting later in life. Adrienne never had that chance. Her father, grandfather, and grandmother all painted. Before she was old enough to remember much of anything else, she remembers opening a trunk that belonged to her father, pulling out his oil paints, and covering the floor while the adults entertained guests. Her mother wasn't nearly as amused as Adrienne was. That early curiosity never disappeared.
"It's been a thing in my life forever," she said.
From childhood classes through undergraduate studies and graduate school at the Maryland Institute College of Art, painting became less of a hobby and more of a language.
Teaching Others, Finding Herself
For more than twenty years, LaVallee taught painting, drawing, printmaking, and art history at St. Anselm College while also serving as assistant director of the college's gallery. Earlier in her career, she taught at several New Hampshire colleges, often juggling multiple teaching positions at once. Teaching was rewarding, and it demanded enormous amounts of time and energy. When she retired, something unexpected happened. She finally had enough time to paint entirely for herself.
Painting Maine
Although Adrienne Kernan LaVallée grew up in western Massachusetts, Maine became the landscape that transformed her work. She photographs constantly, gathering hundreds of reference images, but the photographs are only a starting point. Memory takes over. Imagination fills in the rest.
"I work from memory, imagination, and photographs," she explained. "I piece things together."
A tree may move. A horizon may drop. A marsh might become brighter than it ever appeared in real life. Yet anyone familiar with southern Maine often recognizes the places immediately.
The Surprise in Every Sky
While walking through the studio, one detail kept appearing. Nearly every painting contained a streak of brilliant red or hot pink somewhere in the sky. When I pointed it out, she smiled.
"It's a surprise," she said. "It's energy. It gets your eyes moving."
That willingness to surprise viewers extends beyond color. Thick layers of oil paint are scraped away, rebuilt, scratched into, and painted over again. Sometimes she changes a painting completely halfway through.
"My marks tell me which way I'm going," she said.
A Painting Worth Twenty-Five Dollars
Long before galleries and collectors, there was one unforgettable sale. While still in high school, one of LaVallee's English teachers purchased a small painting for $25. Decades later, during a hometown exhibition, the teacher's daughter walked into the gallery carrying that very painting. The family had kept it all those years.
"I was so happy," LaVallée said. "I couldn't believe it."
Still Experimenting
For someone who has painted for roughly seventy years, LaVallée talks surprisingly little about mastering her craft. Instead, she talks about experimenting. Sometimes she sands paintings down. Sometimes she scrapes away days of work. Sometimes she starts over entirely.
"I like experimenting," she said. "I have dreams of doing things that I don't have time to do."
That curiosity earned her a five-week artist residency on Monhegan Island, where uninterrupted time allowed her to paint, hike, photograph, and create new work inspired by one of Maine's most celebrated artistic landscapes.
Seeing the World Differently
Late in our conversation, I asked where she saw herself ten years from now. She didn't talk about larger galleries or bigger sales. She talked about the next painting. She's still solving problems in the middle of the night. Still discovering new techniques. Still chasing the image in her mind that hasn't yet made it onto the canvas.
Perhaps that's why her paintings feel so alive. They aren't attempts to copy the landscape. They're conversations with it.