Oil on Board
24" x 24"
WIP

10.08.2008

It's p***ing down and blowing a gale. What kind of idiot would go out painting on a day like today?

I head off into town with my easel and board, all hopes pinned on the weather forecast this morning being accurate. I've left my painting trip until after lunch on the basis that the rain is supposed to have blown over by about two o'clock.

Wonder of wonders! I arrive at George Street just as the rain is stopping. I find a corner out of the wind, even though that appears to be dying down as well, and set up the gear. The board's wet from the rain, but a quick wipe down and I'm good to go. As much as I'm relieved that its not still bucketing down, it's going to be another grey painting and maybe it's just me, but with this new unfinished border thing, all the paintings are starting to look too alike - I've only done a few and already I'm getting bored of them. I might have to try changing the background colour. Next time. Or maybe just a bit of sun would help.

I slosh the undercoat on again and I get some more dribbly bits which I decide to leave. The drips race each other to the bottom of the board and I bet on one of them winning.

Come on rightey ... come one, you can do it ... yes! Get in!

Rightey wins and it's almost too much excitement for one day.

Back to business - I try and squeeze as many of the buildings into the frame as I can, starting from the right and working round I have to take a few liberties, but I just about get the front of the buildings on the left in. I start laying in the colour.

Nothing much happens.

...

Maybe it's cos I've got my i-pod on.

...

Rubbishy George Michael track comes on - how did that get there - quick fast forward.

...

Lucky we had the drama of the drip race.

...

Yeah, lucky, that.

...

One conversation of note towards the end of the session:

Him: "Were you the guy I saw the other day near the Farmhouse, painting, looking down the hill?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Fantastic." (It takes a second but I realise he's talking about the painting from the other day rather than my efforts this afternoon.)
Him: (Walking away) "You're not as good as him."
Me: Thinking - is that what he said, surely not (I've still got my headphones on). Could have been. What do I care?
Him: (Revised) "You could have been him." (Yes, that was it, that's what he said. I'm sure of it.)

Definitely, almost too much excitement for one day.