See Through The Trees [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I was about to paint a new composition over an old canvas. Kerri flung herself in front of the old painting claiming that she loved it and had recently admired it. I wrinkled my brow at the impossibility of her claim. The old painting was an experiment I labeled “hotel art.” Also, it was sideways in the stacks. IF she admired it at all she was admiring it sideways. Standing between me and my canvas she said in all seriousness, “Do what you want, it’s your painting.”

Now, I will never paint over that painting. First, because I can never forget the face she made when she sprang into painting-savior mode. It melted my boorish heart. Next, because her “Do-what-you-want” manipulation was so unmasked and shameless that I’d suffer deep guilt for the rest of my days on earth if I did what I wanted and dared touch my dreaded hotel art. It’s no longer my painting. It’s become a moment that I adore, a memory that I cherish.

The new painting, had it made it into the world, would’ve been called, “Trains Through Trees.” I’ve been making sketches for a few years but, until recently, never arrived at something I liked. It’s a narrative. Our favorite yellow trail circles near railroad tracks and often on our walks a train rumbles through. For weeks Kerri made a series of videos, trying to catch the movement of the colorful graffitied train cars through the trees. Train performance art. I loved her excitement at the approaching train as she raced to a good spot to take her video. Those moments inspired an idea for a painting. The dreaded hotel art was the ideal canvas shape.

Two passing moments collide. The trains through trees. The painting-savior. They speak volumes about our life. Tiny moments like a hot cup of tea on a cold misty afternoon. They warm me. And, aren’t all of our days rich-rich-rich with the best moments of our lives, if we only took the time to notice them?

read Kerri’s blogpost about TINY MOMENTS

3 Responses

  1. […] read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY […]

  2. Reminds me of a favorite old David Wilcox song:

    Now when the paint jar tipped off of the table
    You watched as it started to fall
    Glass popped, shattered and splattered
    And paint spray hit the wall

    Bright, blue glossy enamel
    Across the kitchen floor
    You said, “Good God, look at that pattern
    I’ve never seen that before!”

    Leave it like it is
    Never mind the turpentine
    Leave it like it is
    Its fine

    Now when the paint dried, you gave it a title
    You called it “Kitchen Blue”
    A white frame painted around it
    And gallery lighting too

    Rich folks come over to dinner
    They all want one of their own
    They say “How much? Who’s the artist”
    And, “My what a beautiful home”

    Now most folks suffer in sorrow
    Thinking they’re just no good
    They don’t match the magazine model
    As close as they think they should

    They live just like the “paint by numbers”
    The teacher would be impressed
    A life-time of follow the lines
    So it’s just like all of the rest

    Leave it like it is
    Never mind the turpentine
    Leave it like it is
    Its fine

    So there, Scoundrel. Leave the damn painting alone. It’s fine, YOU are fine.

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