Jersey kids have a four day weekend right now.
Therefore, me and the family have been in utopia where I, previous to arriving here, fantasized that I would be able to take zillions of inspirational twilight photographs and head home with dozens of choices of brand spanking new visions of peaceful serenity from which I would select the four images that could make the coldest of hearts turn to melted butter and print those four new breath taking images to be included in a group show I signed up for coming up, oh, next week. You know, no pressure here.
Except that now that I am here in motivation central, mother nature has decided to laugh in the face of my high expectations, for every evening and each morning following, the landscape merely fades from thick dull gray to ink black and then back to thick dull gray again.
shit. shit! sheeeEEEEeeettt!
Tomorrow morning is my last shooting chance, but the likelihood of me getting four show worthy shots in one morning? Uh, don't put money on that. I'm considering making the kids hang out here until sun down, because it happens pretty early these days, but then I have to make the 2 1/2 hour drive back to stepford in the dark. It might be worth it. I'll have to plan it minute by minute. (or grovel by grovel)
Today, after last night's inky night turned into today's somber day, I drove Evan down to the city for a camp friend's bar mitzvah. Evan was invited, not the rest of us. I dropped Evan off at the synagogue and headed straight for The Museum of Modern Art. (Deep sigh of total "I am home" satisfaction) I returned to pick Evan up a few hours later with a new (and surprising) appreciation for Joan Miro and an even bigger love of VanGogh than I had before because his early landscape works blew me away. b.l.e.w me a.w.a.y.
I just might have to resume oil painting just so I can make my own little reproductions. I want to see the real ones again. (I also want to sleep with them, they are that good) The paintings are so much better in real life.
Comments