The afternoon sun cast a long shadow on the sidewalk in front of me as I walked home.
What would it feel like for a gargoyle to get to the other side, the inside, of a stained glass window?
There’s a bench shaded by redwoods next to the tennis courts in the park. In July I saw bright pink flowers blooming next to that bench, but now summer is fading and those flowers are gone.
The picnic tables in this painting are off in the distance, as are the people. Maybe it reflects the introvert in me, who’d rather watch people from a distance.
I remember the first time I ever tried to draw a smile, when I was about five years old.
First I drew the crescent shaped open mouth.
So far, so good. Then I drew a bunch of up-and-down lines for teeth.
That looked like good progress. And then to finish.
It happened to me again last week. I started with a location sketch that seemed like an interesting little composition.
Then I started the painting.
and almost finished before I realized that I had painted dappled shade all across the lower half of the scene, which was not the source idea. I had to wipe out a section.
Here’s hoping I finish without losing the thread again.
Across the main lawn of the park you can see a giant magnolia that used to stand next to a giant oak. But that oak has fallen and been cleared away.
I started off wanting to make sense of a tangle of trees and shrubs in the shade, but like insistent siblings, two trees in the sunlight took over the composition.
Play tower on a weekday morning, empty for the moment, but there’s always a nanny with a stroller somewhere nearby.
There’s a sequoia tree in the park whose branches grow in a spiral, with a gap because it’s crowded next to a pine. When I can see into the branches like that, I wonder what it must be like to live in a tree.
It’s dawned on me that I’m painting a series on Dimond Park, just because I spend so much time there with Shadow. Here are some painting starts, where I begin translating the sketches into paintings by blocking in the big shapes.