Long viridian shadows stretch out across dew covered lawns. Sunflowers are lifting their heads in search of the warming rays of the sun. Dads are sipping coffee at red lights, as kids, still in bed, plan their day. Summer jobs cutting lawns and afternoons swimming at the stone quarry, seeing will dive off the high tower and who will climb back down.
Tom, the park policeman, unlocks the Eastside gates to Fabyan Park. He opens all the gates to all parks that line the Fox Valley. “Painting or drawing today?” he inquired, waving me into the park. Passing the weather beaten statue of Chief Black, I take my parking spot facing the river in front of the climbing tree, as I call them. More horizontal than vertical, it's perfect for joggers and runners to rest on, who I then sketch. Mothers pushing strollers move to one side to let the runners trying to keep fit pass by. I’ve got a handful of peanuts for the squirrels, dropped out the window, and some corn for the ducks. My back up models in case people don't come. Sometimes the squirrel waits at the wrong blue van, takes him a minute to realize it before he scampers over to me.
My mind gets its workout as I sketch a young lady in her early twenties. She arrived with four boys, all about ten. She is in a light cream colored business suit, baiting fishing hooks with large nightcrawlers she pulls from a coffee can. Not the ideal outfit for baiting hooks. As I sketch them I imagine a story for them.
My student arrives at the same time a bus load of kids arrives. I invite my student, Grace, in and explain we have to draw from inside my van. It's part of my lesson, I tell Grace, but she insists on getting out to draw. Within minutes we are surrounded by kids asking questions and wanting us to draw them. I drew them as a demonstration for Grace.
It did not end there. The next day at the park a policeman knocked on my window and asked for my phone number. That afternoon I got a call from one of the kids I had drawn. She wanted me to do a painting of her brother. The next day that policeman was parked in front of her house, waving to me as I walked up to the front door. This ten year old invited me in, leaving the door open. Then came her story. Her brother, a student at the airforce academy was driving home for a visit when he was killed by a drunk woman as he was helping another woman change a tire. When the family went to make arrangements to bring him home, their house burnt down and they lost everything. Only two wallet size pictures remain of him. She wanted me to do his portrait from those small, worn photos as a gift for her mom.
So, do not get out of the car to draw kids. Yes I did the portrait, and no I did not charge her.
