I have had this long piece of one sitting in my backyard for a couple of months or more. I had intended to paint a slightly ajar open door on it. Perhaps something ethereal, like a blast of golden light coming out of it. But yesterday, as I was sitting out there, I noticed the tilt of the sun making its own shadow drawing. There was the trellis and the bouganvilla cast upon the white. And suddenly, that was the painting to be!
I traced the shadows, rather badly at that, freehand as the way the canvas was leaning I could not put pressure with a ruler without dislodging it and removing the shapes of the shadows. And then I put it aside unsure if that was what ought to be on there. As if ought had anything to do with such a thing.
Today, I met a colleague/friend for breakfast. We tried a place I have passed since it opened about a year ago, called Shaky Alibi on Beverly Boulevard. The quirk of this independent coffee shop is that it serves liege waffles. Ever heard of that? Me neither. But there we were. You could have dessert ones, or real food ones, as we did, me the poached egg with cheese and turkey. The powdered sugar gave it a unique taste. My friend and I are finding, finally, nearly five weeks after separation from our jobs, that the sense of hurt is slowly attentuating and what is left is a kind of curiousity over how the office's new direction will take shape, as it was the reason for our forced exit--i.e. "we are going in a new direction" (read, "and you are not going with us"). So far, from what we have heard nothing has changed but we retain a wistful interest. But the lessening of the sense of the ego blow is a relief.
After we parted ways, I went to Mass. The gospel was about sowing a good seed. I hope I will do that in this third part of my life (God Willing, that is, there is a third part!). I brought my bicycle into the shop for a shakedown and repair, as it is my hope, yet again, to use it. Then I called someone about a former parishioner of my chruch who had died and some issues related thereto.
And then, there was that badly sketched canvas. I pulled out the paints. I am a childhood trained artist, which means that I really am not trained, as my last formal guidance was when I was between 8 and 11 or so. I have, I think, a certain primitive skill, but that means what I do can either be pretty good or really awful. I cannot under any present condition draw the human form. Something to put on the ever expanding list of things to do, take an adult oil painting class. But anyway, I started in the breezy outdoors replicating what I thought I saw on the trellis. Here is it at the very start.
Kind of cool, no. I did not paint it next to the actual bush (to the right), but after I was done for the day, I placed the canvas as you see and this is the visual result! Auspicious eh? Well, at least I think so. The little discoveries of the non-working life! And you get to see the thing in progress. I worry a bit that this is it at its best, but I shall continue and see what appears.
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