Mounds of Old Memories

Last summer my neighbors had a fence put in around their backyard. They couldn't afford to have the entire fence put up by professionals so half was built by their tenant. Every morning I take the time to pause and look at one board pulling free as it warps. Nails can't hold. A robin sits atop that fence each morning, admiring his work covering my windshield. I smile and compliment him on it.  

Switching on the studio lights, I leave the outside world behind. I turn on the coffee maker and computer, to get started.  My world begins to waken. Greetings from my easel, a friendly smile from a clean palette, brushes ready, I lay out fresh dabs of paint on mounds of old memories of long forgotten dreams. Sips of hot cocoa ready me for a day of work.

A little on-the-spot painting has had my attention for a week . It should make for an interesting day as I attempt to combine it with sketches of cows and a sunset burning in my head. No music again today, I’ll listen to a movie that I have watched already. "Wonder” is a movie about a little boy facing the world of school and peers with his scared face. Twelve times I've watched it - or rather listened to it. I need good people in my studio, even if they 're only present on my computer.  

I'm blessed with being able to close my studio door and create this world for myself. I share this world with others through my paintings. Sometimes I take a trip back to my childhood in painting a scene of Katie Linsters kitchen window, other times I travel back to do a painting of my cousin in a hammock reading. For me, painting is about feelings, not about being clever.  I forgive myself for the bad compositions and designs I stumble through. Katie forgives me too most times and Uncle Melvin laughs at my badly drawn cows.  The hills are a bit higher, the grass a bit greener, and that purple cloud from the post office has found its way to the hills I see alongside my sketchbook cows.

As my movie plays on, my painting begins to breathe and the smell of the country comes back. Grass beneath my feet now, wildflowers brush against my legs as I lean back and take in what has appeared on the scarey white canvas that first greeted me. I reward my brushes with a warm bath and give my palette a good rubdown.  Switching off the lights and returning to that artwork on my windshield, my day ends. Audie Murphy shares my dinner with an old Western as the sun sets, pulling me out for one last bit of glory to file away.     

Apple Pie & Lemonade

I learn something every time I go out painting - not always about painting. Like why a farmer gave up dairy farming and replaced his dairy cows with Angus cattle. My friends, Paul and Linda, and myself, made it a custom to head out somewhere every Sunday and paint the local landscape. One Sunday we found an abandoned road which had been replaced by a new road with a new bridge, further down the river from the old bridge.  It was like our private place to paint. Cool and quiet, we set up in the middle of the road. One Sunday, well into our paintings, an elderly couple comes down the road to see what we're up to. After watching us for a while they invited us to stop by their farm when finished. Apple pie and lemonade was a nice way to end the day. We listened to stories of the old days from this couple, back when they had five kids to make light of farm work. They told us how they had to switch from dairy farming to raising beef cows when their kid went away to college. I sketched them, between slices of pie, as they told us of life on the farm. 

There is just something about country folk. Like the Nelsons, who turned their farm back to virgin prairie and gave it to the county for everyone to enjoy. We were lucky enough to meet the Nelsons on one of our Sunday outings. Linda bravely got to learn about snakes there at the Nelsons’ place. Seems we set up our easels where snakes like to sun themselves. Paul and I learned how Linda felt about snakes. I wasn't so brave myself, when a bull snake charged.  I got a number of nice landscapes from there, even with the snakes. 

Did you know there are beavers in Illinois? Beavers will sometimes take cornstalkes to build their homes. They can cause problems for farmers, so one farmer told us.  

Something about painting out on the spot that attracts people and makes them want to tell you about themselves. Some tell you things you never knew about Vincent van Gogh, and one farmer gave us pointers on how to capture the feel of the place we were painting. I never did learn how to capture the smell of angus though. 

I've always enjoyed the people I meet while out painting. Some I had to capture in my sketchbook. Some sights, no one would believe - a pig and a goose strolling around the yard together like best of friends.