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| Lower Herring Oil on Panel, 8" x10" |
Crystallization - Part 2 of 4
Actually the solution was . . . to do nothing. Being a long
time meditator, I was all too familiar with the phrase “don’t just do
something, sit there” to gain clarity on a situation but normally don’t
“practice” on vacation because, well, I was on vacation . . . . . . . from everything.
But not today. Grabbing a beach blanket, I walked down to the end of a string
of cottages away from the fray, stopping in front of a unit being rented by my
brother-in-law. I went inside and grabbed a couple of pillows, placed them on
the blanket and settled into a folded leg position on the ground overlooking a
lake canopied by a brilliant blue sky and let my mind settle. The wind was
gusting with enough force to rock me gently back and forth, with trees rustling
white noise and waves beating the shore at the base of a bluff 20 feet or so
below me. Dropping my gaze towards the ground I quickly slipped from the sticky
bonds of thought, anger evaporating, leaving me in an internal space to
contemplate what was actually going on. It is hard to say for those that don’t meditate
what happens next, but it is a lot of nothing, demarcated by thoughts and
feelings, followed by a larger expanse, followed by more thoughts. Wash, rinse,
repeat. Sometimes boring, painful,
exhilarating, terrifying but never predictable.
I don’t remember how long I remained in place but I eventually
stood up stretching my legs now long fast asleep and walked slowly back to the
cottage. As I did so, in the empty space that I had created in my head a
pattern started to emerge. I was feeling fear around something, but what? It
was something I really wanted to do, but didn’t feel equipped properly to do
it. Stopping along the path, I mused further and realized it had to do with drawing,
specifically portraiture. I was pretty sure at that point I had uncovered a
previously undiagnosed case of fear/joy. If you are not familiar with the
concept, think of the name Fear/Joy;
it is exactly what it sounds like. A situation where you really, really
need/want to do something but there is a larger than normal dollop of fear straddling
it, in some cases completely obscuring the fun object. And unfortunately, to
the best of my knowledge, the only cure is to push through the fear. Crap.
In my case the Fear was
approaching people I didn’t know well, or at all, (not normally an issue for
me) and asking them questions, taking pictures and then perhaps doing a sketch
of them which was the Joy. A sketch
that somewhat resembles them to be considered a “success”. I’ve done my share
of drawing people but always in a studio setting or capturing someone when they
aren’t aware of it; quick sketches on a plane or at a bar or while out
somewhere public but nothing where I had to make it look like the person
sitting across from me. My Aunt Marilyn, a childhood art inspiration to me, was
a master at creating portraits for tourists on Jackson Square in New Orleans
for many years. I have some of her work in a flat file at home, portraits
of my grandparents she drew years ago. There
is an effortless quality, a sparseness of detail, yet enough is captured to
ensure the viewer knows who the person is in a thoroughly authentic and non-caricatured
way. This is an extraordinary skill of which I had virtually never practiced.
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Being that this was Wednesday morning and the tennis
tournament, the predominant activity of the day was getting underway, I decided
to take a chance. I threw some drawing supplies into a backpack and headed to
the courts to see what might inspire me. First up was baby Eloise, the latest
addition to our extended family, all of seven months old - perfect. I could
take as many pictures as I needed since she wouldn’t complain, with the added
bonus that she wouldn’t know if I drew her poorly. Downside; she was a tough
interview subject.
From
there I sketched one of the many cousins in the family who was herself drawing and after snapping her
picture, went in search of other prey. I pounced on one of the cooks grilling
ribs behind the Inn in anticipation of a barbecue that evening. I have to laugh
as I think back on the fact that I blurted out that I wanted to do her portrait and
she was the one that wanted to “interview” me first. Note to self: modify how
you approach your subjects. We spent a fair amount of time talking, after which
I took some photos and was on my way. And so it went over the next couple of
days, covering a range of guests and one of the carpenter/handyman on staff. All
in all not so hard to overcome my initial trepidation and a lot more fun than I had ever
imagined.
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My last interview was with the waitress that had been
serving us all week in the dining room of the resort. She agreed to meet with
me between work hours, so we met up Friday morning after the breakfast tasks
had been completed and walked out to a picnic table under a couple of shade
trees out behind the Inn. While taking a couple of reference photos, she shared
a little about who she was, where she was from and a bit about her family. As I
struggled with the sketch (I find it hard enough to try to draw someone precisely not
to mention carry on a conversation at the same time) we talked about what she
wanted to do upon graduation and other future plans, including grad school
followed by the possibility of being a museum curator. I continued drawing as I
shared a story about a friend that I knew who had curated an art museum in
Kohler, WI where I had just visited with my wife a few months before. Over the
years, during my time as a science illustrator, I’ve had a number of
opportunities to go behind the scenes to conduct research for projects of some
sort or another and have always loved museums and research institutions in
general. We continued to talk for a bit as I finished the sketch which had a passing resemblance to her.
We parted ways and I watched as she
headed back to the kitchen while the idea of museum curation still rattled
around in my head. I turned back to the sketch and continued to refine it while
I smiled to myself, remembering the smell of moth balls that emanated from the
trays of insects in the entomology department at the Field Museum in Chicago so
many years ago. “No one goes into something like that these days; how cool. THAT
was a Dream with a capitol D”.
A dream . . . . . . .
In the warm summer haze, my hand sticking to the paper as I
drew, I could feel a small piece of awe landing in the supersaturated liquid that was my being. Crystal began racing
outward in all directions.
A dream . . . . . . .
Up Next: Transformed
