Hand – Work

Having a strong desire to make a painting, or several, of a building I saw on a shell collecting trip to Exuma in the Bahamas stayed with me for several years, as I related last week.

The first thing that caught my attention with this building was the color. It had a turquoise color door with a green door frame. The paint was peeling. The hinges were rusted. Part of the roof had been torn off by storms, and sunlight was streaming into the interior.

When I went back to take photos two days later, I was surprised to see a young man sitting in one of the windows. They were actually openings in the walls; the glass, if there had been any, was long gone. He had a soda and was smoking. I started taking pictures of the outside from different angles. I thought he might leave, but he didn’t. I didn’t have a lot of time to do this, so I ignored him.

This was probably a hangout for the teens on the island. There appeared to be some trash in a corner. The inner walls were stained with what looked like mold. Because the sun was streaming through the broken roof, I could get some shots with parts of the illuminated interior, framed by the door.

When I began to paint while looking at my photos, I was trying to reproduce the peeling paint, showing the different under-layers. After a few paintings of peeling paint, I became interested in the light coming through the broken roof. Getting the light right was the easy part. Painting the wall with the mold was much more challenging.

While I was in the painting class I drove around some of the older parts of Stockton. I love the architecture in this city. There are areas that have beautiful older homes. I was going to take some photos for references to paint. But the details, the landscaping, the neighboring homes felt overwhelming.

As I’m writing this, I just had an idea of where to find more subjects for future paintings that I will want to make. I’ve been to downtown Stockton twice last month.

What we have is some very nice looking contemporary buildings scattered among stately old ones that are being repurposed for new uses. And then there are the old, worn down ones with the peeling paint and tattered awnings across the street or around the corner.

When we get some good weather, perhaps I’ll take my camera and see what I can find that will be a challenge for me to paint.

I had the opportunity to collect shells in the Bahamas in 2011. This was an exploratory trip to the Exuma Islands which are about 300 miles southeast of Miami. At that time there was not much development for tourists, but was attractive to people who had money to build a secluded tropical home. The island had one gas station and one general store which were not open on Sunday, the day we arrived.

The people on this island are descendants of slaves who were moved there in 1783 by John Rolle, a “Loyalist,” who set up a cotton plantation to protest the Revolutionary War because he was loyal to King George. Upon his death, Rolle, freed his slaves and bequeathed his land to them.

Driving along the main roads of Exuma we saw many colorful old homes and abandoned buildings, some with thatched roofs, some overgrown with vines, but many still in use. I became fascinated with these buildings.

At one beach we parked next to an abandoned home with open windows and doors where part of the roof had been torn off and sunlight was streaming in through the rafters. When I noticed the house, I wanted to paint it.

This is unusual for me. I don’t often have a strong desire to paint things I see when I travel. We were loading the van to leave the site and I couldn’t get a picture. I kept thinking about the house.  A few days later I had the opportunity to go back and take photos.

Did I get out my paints as soon as I got home? No. I did print out my photos and set them on my work table where I saw them when I was doing something else. And I kept telling myself – “Someday I will paint this house.”

In the fall of 2014, I decided to take a watercolor class in the Life Long Learning program at the University of the Pacific. I had been doing occasional small acrylics in the last year and did one of the house exterior. In the class we were supposed to select a subject and make several small paintings before we did a larger one. I had taken photos of other houses along the road on the Exuma trip, so I used those for the small studies.

I think I tend to be a tight painter whether I work in acrylic or watercolor.

And working that way takes a lot of time to get things just right. And I wasn’t used to having the pressure to get things done for the next class. As I recall, I was writing the first draft of my memoir and learning to participate in a critique group at the time I took the watercolor class.

 

 

As usual, too much going on.  But I was working on that desire to paint the house.

More on how this worked out next week.