Detail from "The Big Day" 24 x 24 glaze oil on panel Jon and I attended a wonderful wedding reception this weekend; everything about it was perfect, to the point that expecting anything more from the evening would have amounted to gilding the lily.
Yet one of those rare moments of grace occurred. The band was taking a break and we had just sat down to drink some water and catch our breath, when children took possession of the dance floor. I don’t think any of them, all dressed in their party finest, could have been over five. One little girl promptly lay down and allowed herself to be dragged ceremoniously by one foot while affecting a tragic expression. A retro “Twist” started up a few feet away.
And then it happened.
A small vision in a long white tulle dress sauntered out and sank to the floor, gracefully laying her torso across the outspread skirt. She seemed to be channelling a Tchaikovsky ballet and I am a fool for little girls in tulle so I grabbed Jon’s phone and ran. The dying swan agreed to reprise the pose and her mother graciously encouraged me to go ahead.
Later that evening, someone in a suit and tie (who turned out to be her slightly older brother) accosted me outside the women’s washroom. He opened by declaring his excitement over the new painting of his sister. He wanted details about size, composition and completion date. It was oddly flattering. I tried to explain that one of my digitals has less than a one-in -a-thousand shot of becoming a full oil painting but he was all in and yet again resistance was futile. Had he been fifty years older, he would have handed me a commission contract. I did manage to convince him that I couldn’t think about starting it before November. That apparently satisfied him and he strode away, probably returning to his pint-sized corporate responsibilities.
So the swan and her agent are in charge of this creative studio. Looks like I’m going to paint “Another Big Day.”
Yet one of those rare moments of grace occurred. The band was taking a break and we had just sat down to drink some water and catch our breath, when children took possession of the dance floor. I don’t think any of them, all dressed in their party finest, could have been over five. One little girl promptly lay down and allowed herself to be dragged ceremoniously by one foot while affecting a tragic expression. A retro “Twist” started up a few feet away.
And then it happened.
A small vision in a long white tulle dress sauntered out and sank to the floor, gracefully laying her torso across the outspread skirt. She seemed to be channelling a Tchaikovsky ballet and I am a fool for little girls in tulle so I grabbed Jon’s phone and ran. The dying swan agreed to reprise the pose and her mother graciously encouraged me to go ahead.
Later that evening, someone in a suit and tie (who turned out to be her slightly older brother) accosted me outside the women’s washroom. He opened by declaring his excitement over the new painting of his sister. He wanted details about size, composition and completion date. It was oddly flattering. I tried to explain that one of my digitals has less than a one-in -a-thousand shot of becoming a full oil painting but he was all in and yet again resistance was futile. Had he been fifty years older, he would have handed me a commission contract. I did manage to convince him that I couldn’t think about starting it before November. That apparently satisfied him and he strode away, probably returning to his pint-sized corporate responsibilities.
So the swan and her agent are in charge of this creative studio. Looks like I’m going to paint “Another Big Day.”
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