Crossing a Major Threshhold (with a Grin)

Well, after a lengthy season of dreaming, and most of a decade of gradually accumulating supplies and equipment from a host of sources, I took the plunge today. I began painting in oils.

The die was cast a few weeks ago when a call to the local college mature learning department resulted in my enrollment in a painting class. Encouragement from some plein air folk at recent meetings of the Northwest Oil Painter's Guild and the assurance of a member who said he was in the class and would help me along did the trick. The hardest part was waiting for the day to arrive. (I even went a week early to my considerable embarrassment.)

Hours had been spent sorting through all the paints and brushes and other paraphanalia which seems to be required and in preparing the kit for mobility. Not only must the gear be portable, but consideration must be made for transport of liquid solvents, easel, wet palates, and eventually, one hopes, wet canvas with the picture "under construction". I resurrected an old, folding airport luggage cart, adapted a pilot's case to carry wet canvas and other miscellaneous supplies and tools, and added the consumables - paper towels, rags, and such - to the pile. With a quartet of bungie cords, it all became a managable package.

It finally all fit into a neat and compact unit, and I felt at least partly prepared as I entered the classroom. Although I was twenty minutes early, several fellows students were already in place and preparing for the session. Gordon led me through a few introductions, presented me to the teacher, explained the protocol of setting up for work, and suddenly the fateful instant arrived.

The kindly instructor, a gent my age, softly smiled me through the critical first decision: What to paint? I laid out half a dozen pictures from a folder of possibilities, and to my delight he pounced upon my favorite, a piece by Sydney Laurence titled "Silent Pond". He seemed pleased that I had this picture (he has the book in which it was published) and even more so to hear that Laurence is a long-time Alaskan favorite of mine.

A quick sketch in charcoal to block out the essentials, a brief demonstration on picking and mixing colors with hints on how to control the value, advice to start on the parts that are fartherest from the eye, i.e. at the greatest distance (this meant sky in this picture), and I lifted paint on the brush and... [Ta Dah!!] ... laid it on the canvas.

I'm not quite sure I actually heard a chorus of "halelujah chorus" or a few bars of the "1812 Overture", but I'm certain the earth moved just a little bit. It was a little like, like, ... - well never-mind that... maybe more like my first solo flight in a small aircraft. It was a moment to remember.

I only painted in the sky and some of the distant hazy ridges, and underpainted a portion where several really dark trees will be added when this first layer dries. But it is a start. No more excuses. Now I've got to go for it.

Key thought is: I Have Begun!!

And I am looking forward to the next steps.