
Many of us artists run into the same problem every spring: trying to plant a garden & whip the yard into shape. Last year I tried too hard and ended up with a wretched case of sciatica. Three ambulance trips to the Emergency Room over the summer! I’m feeling much better this year, trying to not over-do things, but still, I don’t feel 25 anymore.
My tall, white, feathery persicaria is in glorious bloom and I wanted to paint it. And add a fabulous, dotty sky in the background. We always called it a “salmon cloud sky”. And do it big. Of course I wanted to paint it en plein air. But none of my portable easels could hold a large canvas. So I improvised, wheeling out a sturdy hand dolly and setting a cardboard box next to it to hold the canvas. If it’d been windy it never would have worked.
A pair of house wrens scolded me — I was sitting a little too close to their wren house. But I hope they soon realized I was not a threat.
I got a good start but had to quit when the murderous mosquitoes started up. Maybe it’ll turn out fabulous, maybe not. But it’s worth a try. As my old teachers, Robert Bateman and Clyde Aspevig said, “Never be afraid to experiment!”
your art stems from some deep place of acquired knowledge; mingled with a devotion to paint. Anything you see or image or cast a desiring eye is subject for your brush. And your paintings have a life of their own, What stillness and beauty flow, and you’re a painting factory, out they spew, like an assembly line of treasures. I’m jealous of course, but stand in admiration of your skill, devotion, sense of humor, quirky comments and how you built a little kingdom for all your collected treasures. lov jim
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