Drawn, If Only With Words

Morning coffee and a toasted bagel at Jake's Bagel Shop. It's Thursday and the questions, answers, and other problems are on the table at Jake's. Nothing is out of bounds for the artist meeting there on Thursdays. Problems with a car? Melissa and Dan take a look under the hood. A possible new scam is discussed and it turns out to be an old scam with a new twist. Is the figure right? Arm looks wrong. Too strong a blue is the problem for another. Compositions and Plein Air painting vs studio work and good drawing. Sometimes it is hard to follow along when an interesting caricature walks in.

A subject for a painting and a switch in my thoughts… just the morning light streaming in through the east windows can turn one's ears off to the problems on the table. An eagle flying up the river grabs everyone's attention. The island across from Jake’s has been captured in different mediums by all in the group. If just a color outside captures one's attention, five minutes of discussion and the tree that holds that color is praised and drawn, if only with words. Then it's onto why one at the table isn't showing anywhere, and another is turning to abstracts while our abstract artist is trying a figure drawing class.       

A second cup of coffee and a second stranger is welcomed into the group. Problems with the internet are solved with the help of the first stranger while the second asks if any of us ever had a real job... Silence comes over the table while Melissa fixes George's phone.

Colors the Camera Misses

There is something about painting on the spot that invites strangers to express opinions and questions, such as why I have chosen the subject I have to express myself. Painting is about emotions and imagination. A fallen oak  awakens my sense of wonder with its second-life colors. Green moss wraps fallen giants while bright orange fungus springs forth, giving comfort to tiny furry creatures and keeping them safe from the sharp eyes of the kestrel circling about. Tiny black eyes peek out from the hollowed giant at me as I mix colors.   

An elderly couple out keeping fit, taking time from their morning hike, informed me about the fungus that is appearing on my canvas. Their opinions on my work so far are encouraging. A quick sketch of them arm in arm, continuing on their way, is an unexpected reward. The deep red browns of the decaying trees set off the oranges and pale yellows of the fungus. Moss greens tickle my browns and the deep purples I use to outline the leaves of the plants carpeting the forest floor. More colors and hues appear as I work. Colors the camera misses are there for the finding.

A young boy takes a seat next to me as I tackle a scene of the river and the footbridge in Fabyan Park. The bike path nearby attracts people from all over. Some come from as far away as Chicago. I've gotten used to people commenting on my paintings. This boy just sat quietly watching me mix colors and lay paint on my canvas. His mother, after half an hour, enticed the boy back onto the path with a promise of McDonald’s french fries. To encourage him to go with her I told him french fries sounded pretty good. An hour later came a nudge on my arm. There was my little fan with a bag of french fries for me. He stayed another half hour sipping a coke, watching me finish my river scene. 

Most times I enjoy visitors with their questions and critiques, even the negative comments I get at times. There are other times I want to pull my hair out, like the time a man pushed through some bushes to see what I was doing. A billion tiny gnats were stirred up and hundreds landed on my near finished painting. One time my sister Cathy was on the bike path with twenty of her friends. She had each one ask me my favorite question, "What are you painting?” when I was nearly finished with my painting...