Another Satisfying Night of Watercoloring in the Man Cave

Painting the Cupola in the Man Cave at Night

What a delicious evening!  Texas temperatures are tolerable now.  Two of my dearest friends dropped by for a visit while I was in the man cave.  I would that they had stayed the entire night, I had such fun with them, conversing and laughing over so many areas.  Now that they’ve departed, I’m re-directing my attention to this Tarrant County courthouse cupola.  The colors are presenting quite a challenge, as I continue to work the reds, yellows and violets.  I just love watching the pigments floating around in the pools of water I keep dropping onto the paper.  I have Alabama Live on the stereo again.  Lord, can those men sing!  I just feel chills all up and down my spine when they burst out with those harmonies.  I have had the privilege and intimacy of playing in several bands over the past few years, and always lusted for that kind of vocal alchemy.  Maybe one day . . .

Now that the weekend has officially begun for me, I’m thrilled for this time to paint in the man cave.  In 48 hours I’ll be nosing my Jeep toward the Ozark Mountains of northwestern Arkansas.  It’s unlikely that I’ll have this courthouse finished before I leave, and I regret that to an extent, but I can hardly wait to begin my next plein air adventure in that exquisite Arkansas town.  I have been informed of my lodgings arrangement, and am so thrilled with the accommodations again, they are so good to me up there.  My nine watercolor students I have already spoken to on the phone, and they sound like a bunch of live wires.  I think we’re going to do an exciting work together, and cannot wait to form new friendships.

I have memories of this afternoon’s conversations with Janet Z. Capua drifting in and out of my consciousness as I work tonight.  What a treasure her friendship has become.  I dream of one day inspiring just half of the people she touches with her creative spirit.  I think I understand now why so many beat a pathway to Ralph Waldo Emerson’s door in Concord during those years that New England Transcendentalism flowered.  It has never been easy for me, finding a constellation of creative minds all working out of the same venue like I see over there in south Fort Worth.  They have quite a sublime work going on there.  I’m just proud to know them.

Well, back to the watercolor.  How nice not to have to worry about English IV in the morning.  Thanks for reading.

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