My painting lessons haven't exactly taken off:  although my first seeding of brochures have been swept off concierge's desks, I haven't had a paying customer.  Meanwhile, I have been painting in the park daily.  Earlier in the week my neighbor, O, came to paint with me, for practice

He wasn't the easiest sort of student.  He is color blind.  I give him his sack of paints, brushes, easel, palette and canvas.  He blocks out the image.

I suggest he hold the paintbrush, laden with paint, alongside the object he is painting.  That way, at least it will be the same in his eye.

I love spending the afternoon in the park.  You can't imagine how lonely it is painting in the studio.  Here, I chat with O, about everything in life, as we fill our canvases with color.



I watch four men have their picture taken. One slings his arm around another's shoulder, his head tipped toward his friend.  It reminds me of a 1945 picture of my Uncle Tommy and his pal, Muscles.   My uncle didn't fight in the war, the only of five sons left home to take care of my grandmother.  His best friend, Muscles is back from the European front -- it is a classic photo of friendship, like this one will prove to be.

An older man kisses the white shoulder, bared for the first time this year, of his young girlfriend.   A black man gesticulates gracefully as he explains something to his lady -- I want to hear every word he is saying, but he is too far away.

Two Arabic women sparkle, in black chadors, as the sun glints off sequins sewn on in the shape of a moon and star.   Two dozen children march through the park, singing "Oh, Champs-Elysees" at the top of their seven year old lungs.   Dust devils blow by.

I write my thoughts on the back of a business card as my partner finishes his work of art.

At the door Thursday morning, he arrives with a bouquet of white peonies.  Another friend might join me on Sunday to paint the park. 


Laurie (text) and Blair (painting) PESSEMIER
Luxembourg Ponies   MBP  Oil on linen  16 x 20 inches
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