 |
| In Which The Universe Is Trying To Tell Me Something... |
It was a very wet, very hot, very crappy summer here. My whole goal this year was to paint outside once a week.
I've done it maybe three times because the weather has Not Cooperated.
Today it was gorgeous out.
Puffy white clouds, slightly hazy sky, not that humid, gentle breezes, approximately 75℉ (23,9℃)...
I had to try it. I had to go for my stupid little walk for my stupid mental health! It was now or never!
Well, the walk was pleasant enough - traffic cooperated, I managed to check the produce that gets left out for free at the library (just kale and a few random peppers, but that's on me, I should've headed out before noon), and I even felt comfy enough to shed my flannel shirt.
Main Street was the kind of bustling you get from off-season tourists who just want to see what a small New England town is like when there are no cruise ships or leaf peepers (spoilers, it's cozy but largely boring unless you're into art and relaxation). I hopped onto a bench outside one of the bigger galleries and set up my clipboard and watercolor palette, sketching out a very sloppy view. My goal was to try out some brushwork ideas I'd had, practice glazing, maybe figure out how to do impressionism with watercolor if I was very very ambitious.
A gentleman set up near me with a violin. He had an interesting song selection that he was playing with speakers. Dunno if he was legit or one of the scammers, but that was besides the point.
The point is that this is when I started to get a familiar feeling in my gut that something might go wrong today.
I ignored it, because I'm anxious, so I feel that way a lot.
I mean, sure, I'm anxious because when I feel like something is about to go wrong, it does, but that's besides the point. People aren't supposed to give in to anxiety, right? So I keep painting.
I'm adding a bunch of dabbed brushwork leaves to a tree when I realize there's an older fellow in a western-style shirt standing close to me, watching me work. Okay, that's cool, he seems to be just watching my paints, trying to see what I see. It's a first for me, but I've seen other plein aire artists have this happen.
No sooner does he start asking me questions about my art (which I was really excited about, because this is new! People don't often take an interest in what I do in the real world!), than a yellowjacket starts hovering around me. We both remark on it and laugh it off.
Then it's joined by a friend, who lands on my thigh and starts moving... oddly.
And then they're both joined by a third yellowjacket who zooms aggressively towards my eyes. I hastily packed up and headed for home. I wasn't about to run because I know that a fast-moving target with hornets, bees, or yellowjackets around it is a stung target. I apologized for my quick departure to the baffled art enthusiast and trudged home.
The weirdly persistent bugs followed me.
They followed me for almost a half a mile.
They continued to aim for my face.
I finally lost them by leading them past a bottle redemption place with a whole swarm of drunken hornets outside. My stalkers decided that the booze was far preferable to my face, so they stuck around the pallets of broken beer bottles and crushed Mtn dew cans.
I bought myself a couple of 69 cent cans of soda at a nearby shop and went home, defeated.
Some days the universe just tells you "No, you're not allowed to enjoy yourself outside." This was apparently one of those days.
It's a frigging bummer.
No one has ever talked to me about my art on Main Street without prompting from someone who knows me.
Never.
So of course the one time it does, my stupid stinging-insect-attracting powers have to activate.
Heck.
Anyway, here's the watercolor sketch I was working on:
 |
"God Said Stop Painting"; watercolor on paper; 2023
[ANIMAL, VEGETABLE, LOCATION] |
As you can see, I was trying to use a flat brush and fill in the foliage of the tree I was looking at...
Those five dots in the sky are pigeons. Same with the dots on the background building.
And the buildings you can see are a secondhand store, a bakery, a movie theater, and a contemporary art museum.
I've probably just doxxed myself. It's been that kind of day.
Is this the universe's way of telling me not to freaking paint outside anymore? Telling me I'm not allowed to paint at all?
I feel pretty defeated, to be honest.
Weird crap happens every time I try to do anything like this.
Nature just likes to mess with me I guess.
Last time it was a freak rainshower. The time before that, a cruise ship arrived and I felt like I had to leave so that other people could sit down.
I want to sit somewhere with shade and paint.
Apparently the only place I can do that is at home.
That sucks.
Anywho, if you want me to make some art for ya, I'm happy to do that - you can commission me via Ko-Fi, DM me on Twitter (it's Twitter, not X, Elon's a doofus), if you're an IRL person I know, you can reach me via Facebook.
If you just want a say in what I post next week, feel free to drop me a small donation on Ko-Fi with a message telling me what category you want to see (Animal, Vegetable, Mineral, Food, Dedbert, Location, Geometric, Word) and I'll make it for next Thursday!
I'll just probably be painting or drawing it either at the local library or in my backyard.
Probably the library, to be honest, because last time my mom sat outside, she was swarmed by bees.
What the heck.
FC
.jpg)
