I’ve been terrified for people to see what I’m working on, especially in the beginning to middle stages. “Holy crap! What if they see how bad I am?!” Well, who cares. I’m too old for that crap. Like most everyone else, in the beginning, most of my work starts out looking like a huge pile of crap and slowly begins to look like something I might can live with. I am out to piss on that fear. Here is one thing I’ve been working on a while.
As a bonus, here’s my closet.
Due to my crapped out immune system, I was informed the flesh eating sea water would kill me. I decided to use my time improving my plein air skills. Man, do I have a long way to go before I have any plain air skills! First of all, I looked like a beached whale.
Day one, I painted the condos next to ours. The family sitting next to us wanted to buy it so I just gave it to them.
They had a funny last name.
Day two was your typical beach shot.
Day three, more condos.
They were all 8″ x 10″. Not that cool looking but it gave me something to do while everyone else splashed around in the water and had a good time. I learned a few things. Sand gets in everything. Your bag. Your paint. White umbrellas will let your ass get burned really quickly. Expensive french easels have weak parts and will break on you no matter how careful you are with them. Disappointment and self loathing follow you all the way to Florida. Drinking wine on the beach won’t make your work look any better.
It was still a great trip.
I had this great idea! What if nights I don’t feel like sitting alone in my studio I just take my small homemade pochade box to bed and paint something small? What a great idea, right! No. Man, I got paint everywhere. All over my bed. Stupid idea.
I’m on a quest to learn how to paint plein air. I ordered a Julian french easel and have a whole setup of outside tools to work with. Yippee! Jay Carr’s house is one of my first. I can tell you this much, painting outside is completely different from painting inside.
If I keep this up, I will be well on my way to painting on old saw blades and potato bins at flea markets.
I found a great letter by E. B. White on BrainPickings.org today, to a man that’s lost faith in humanity.
…as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right.
It’s short. As a constant cynic, I found it good advice.
I think I’m close to that point.