If I were to judge from the size of his head, a marble mounted on his football of a body, I would have to guess that Mouse the house grouse doesn't entertain any big thoughts. Yet here he is in the morning, perched on the drying rack outside the kitchen window and hammering on the glass. He wants his sunflower seeds and he wants them now. Last night he suddenly decided to park himself in my lap like a feather muff. He's not here at the moment; probably off translating Crime and Punishment or teaching himself to knit. Theodore, on the other hand, should be able to create and run a widget factory with that enormous head he ports around, yet I might have to put my money on Mouse if they ever get around to that chess game they keep talking about. In fairness, Theodore has gotten so laid back, what with owning two slaves and all, that I doubt that the need to think is much of an issue for him. When it comes to crania, I guess head size doesn't matter much.​

But for me canvas size does. Once again I seem to be on the brink of conceiving an elephant. My common sense argues against starting something big, especially on the eve of hot humid weather, but the heart wants what the heart wants. I know I'm in trouble when buying food seems less important than choosing the right shape. Rectangle or square? If rectangular, "portrait" or "landscape" orientation?? And in what ratio - "screen" or "book" or "paper" ? And how big? Subject matter drives these decisions. The painting below -- all about the force of the wind on the paddlers -- demanded a long and lean image. This time, all I've decided on is "big."


The Canadian painter, Tom Forestall, went so far as to make shapes that reflected the subject matter. One of his most exciting paintings was in the shape of binoculars. Huge binoculars looking out on a marsh. Stunning. It doesn't seem fair to ask Jon to give up fly-fishing in order to build and stretch enormous and unique canvases for me.


Still....

Deciding on the next painting is like giving birth to an elephant.  It's Jon's birthday next month and he constantly complains that, while I have hundreds of pictures of him, he has almost none of me.  He says this quite wistfully, picturing me dead and him without a photo.  Okay, okay.  So I trolled through photos and came across this one, which Jon actually took!  I like it partly because I'm smiling at (and for) him but also because the sunglasses are reflecting a wonderful black and white abstract pattern times two. Moreover, I am happy to see a close resemblance to my mother at the same age.  Finally, it's truly me, as the hat is on crooked, as usual.

Having made the commitment,  I finally got down to work on a canvas yesterday.  Getting started is pretty much all work and no play,  even assuming that I have settled on the subject matter.  Choosing the proportions has to be first.  I decided on 1:2 and fooled around with where the portrait would sit on the 12 x 24 vertical.  Done.   Then the canvas had to  be primed;  for me this task must be accomplished on my hands and knees on the basement floor, which is beginning to look like a Pollock canvas.  Inevitably I can't find:  the paint; an old knife to manoeuvre it; the matte medium; a rag;  a large piece of cardboard to catch most of the drip; and so it goes.  The actual priming takes only about five minutes.  

Then the tedious part actually moves up a notch as I laboriously transfer the key proportions onto the canvas;  again, inevitably, I get one major thing out of place;  I can see the problem immediately, an act quite separate from correcting it.   Portraiture is particularly unforgiving if you get the drawing wrong.  Unless you are Picasso, of course.

These tasks I performed yesterday.  Today, finally:  showtime!  Today was dedicated to the value study.  It looks pretty rough, but at least the ship has been launched.  Whether it will float or sink remains to be seen.  Stay tuned.  Tomorrow I will do the first layer of the colour foundation.  I'll post each layer on my website for those of you who are bears for punishment.