The old Dash Point dock in 1964 |
This was my first major work. I have dabbled in tempura and watercolor all my life but this grand structure, glowing in the late-afternoon light, had captivated me. A half-century later, I remain entranced by the composition, the color, the repetition of the pilings.
I must have been a fast study with my paints. Using a household latex satin interior paint, I colored the basic white with intense drops of tint. These came in metal tubes, common before the "espresso machine" automatic mixers of today. I had acquired them from paint stores that discarded them in favor of the more accurate mixers. I blended my colors right on the canvas--or in this case, plywood.
You can see that the upper sands have dried out, indicating that what is pictured is an incoming tide. Well, it wasn't incoming when I set up my easel, I remember that. But it was certainly incoming when I hastily ended my plein air session that day.
It was a week before I had an opportunity to return to the dock, to complete the painting--the water needed attention, and I had hoped to add the feet and legs of some people up on the dock. But a week later, as any Northwesterner would know, the tide was already in. And the unfinished painting was pushed aside in the trailer where I lived above the state park, and later in the beachfront home where Virginia and I made our first home together.
A friend who is curator of a small art gallery was left high and dry last week by his scheduled artist. I came to the rescue with a dozen small acrylics and oil pastels I've done in the past year or so. And there, behind the door in my studio, was--the old Dash Point dock!
I touched it up a little and stapled on a quick frame. I'm sure it won't sell, and it won't win any prizes.
But old friend, it is good to see you again!
No comments:
Post a Comment