Up A Lazy Creek

Summertime and the living is not easy although its better than winter by a mile.It's my sinuses and the pollen today is at its highest this month somewhere around 210%. Drip, drip, drip and my nasal passages are like sandpaper. This is the start of today's outdoor painting trip. Breakfast, Thank God, is good. Picture perfect eggs, crisp hashbrowns and dry bacon..coffee so so...not bad Tim's turn to pay. I have an idea today of where we can go to paint. Tim wants to paint a creek. A creek, a lazy slow run with rivulets (water running through small pebbled creek beds). Actually, this is exactly what I had discovered a few days ago when my wife offered to take me out for a Sundae. We stopped and parked on the outskirts of town near the Coon Hunters Lodge. I said let's just sit on the rocks and eat our ice cream. A creek was running from last week's thunderstorms. I had to explore it. I have loved creeks from kidhood. They are the last remaining remnant of the primeval we have left in our Cro-Magnon brain. Yes, there's campfires but creeks are natural. They just happen because the land is not flat in spite of the glaciers that plowed Indiana thousands of years ago. So I made a mental note of the creek for Tim to paint the next time we were out.
Creeks are littered with stones and other interesting items dugout of the ground by the torrents when the creeks flood. They are storehouses for treasure...not the pirate kind but the kind that I loved when I was seven. I had a box that I hid my "finds" in and guarded them under my bed. And there was hell to pay if someone got into it. I still get a kick out of scouring the creek beds for interesting stuff.

Tim probably likes them for the same reasons. He is drawn to them like I am or he wouldn't mention them so often. So today we are painting the creek. I find a place to set up my chairs on the blacktop just a few feet from the bank. Tim moves closer and down the bank for a creek-run vantage point. The temperature is climbing and the humidity is running to catch up. By the time we are well into our artworks my shirt is clinging and the paint is 'runny' and dries so very slowly. Tim is having a time only because I can hear his discomfort. I am finishing up quicker because I decide to use the 'wet on wet look' in this piece. A way of taking a snaphot of this steamy May weather is what I am trying to achieve. The brush just pushes the wet color around like the creek is doing to the land around it. We finish about the same time as I can smell his fixative.

Here's my finsihed piece while Tim's is above.

All in all its been a good morning session in spite of the humidity. And maybe it's been successful just because of it. There's two dark and cold beers waiting for us. A short critique is also hashed over the 'suds.' "Hey, I like your artwork." "I like yours, too. Maybe if you took your finger and smoothed out the highlights on the water it would appear to be more 'watery'." More watery? Maybe its too hot to be drinking beer outdoors today??

Thirty Minutes ... now Paint!

Hello, artists and passerbys. It's not going to rain. Great, Tim is on his way. I think it's my turn to drive and buy breakfast. This whole thing is really great for the mind, body, and soul. Last night we were called upon to speak and give a little expose' on our plein air painting trips. We've been at it almost a year. It's kind of like an anniversary. Actually, it was Tim and Carolyn's anniversary too. My beautiful wife also attended with us at Cafe Cirque for the monthly art group meeting. I don't know if they have a name but they are good people and are interested in art and creating. That's good. And here they are. I took the photo with my Ipod. Nice little gadget phone.

We decided that we'd both talk at the meeting. Someone said we were like Rowan and Martin of Laugh- In. Ahh the publicity and accolades. Today we are out and hunting for subject matter and something to inspire us. We stopped at this location because the owner has about 50 old Airstreams parked in a small newly planted "Airstream Park." The sign said beware of the dogs. We got out and walked around calling. "Anybody homeeee? Hello, anybody here?" Two black labs came wheeling around the building and these two soft baby's WEREN'T guard dogs. They had a "c'mon rub me" written all over their faces and fluffy collars on. They were even a little embarrassed because they knew they weren't in it for anything but the grub. I almost petted one out of sympathy for these two guys. "Hey, we aren't really guard dogs mister, but could you spare a dime? or a doggie treat, c'mon?"

I figured I'd email the guy at Airstream.com as it was on the Office window. The place used to be the Old Poor Farm, literally. People who couldn't make ends meet and needed a home came here and with their kids too. I guess that was the way they did things in those days. We looked after each other. It was a kinder world in those days in some ways and meaner in other ways, racially. Damn shame people can't stand each other for the damnest reasons.When We hit the 30 minute mark and we hadn't found a spot yet. Tim's telling me we have to stop and paint. We were around the top south ridge othe the Wabash River Valley overlooking Peru. Iv'e painted from here years ago, but what the hell. When I turn around there was a big utility pole truck blocking the road so I parked right where we stood. And this is what we decided to paint. These were two old stuccoed homes dated, I figure, somewhere in the 30's. The design was interesting and they had character...good subject material. I was using the new technique of wet acrylic paint on wet acrylic paint. I've had some success with this so I am staying with it for awhile. Nothing more said we sat down on the curb and got to work. Just about an hour later after only a few random comments here and there, Tim was spraying his pastel with fixative. The stuff smells like White Rain or old copy machine fluid for a radidograph??? I think? Here's Tim's pastel.Sorry Tim I guess I moved when I was taking the picture. The slant is the shutter closing while I moved the Ipod thinking it was done...here's mine.Well we finished with a short critique in my garage and Tim and I are ready for our next plein air painting trip.Hey Tim, how's the beer? Now if that isn't a happy man, I'll give you my stack of paint brushes.