Beach Boy

Well, here he is... my little beach boy. He makes my toes curl with excitement. I want to get down to the beach and help him collect rocks and stomp in puddles with him. Capturing him on film was such a joy. He ran from puddle to puddle to puddle. I was afraid that by the time I got to him, asked his dad for permission to take his picture, and got settled in, he would have run out of energy or interest. I was so wrong. His dad said he'd been running across the puddles for over half and hour and I was there with him for nearly as long. It was a rare moment, such as this one, when he would stop and find a treasure, and then be off running again. 

I often wonder why all of that energy is allowed in those tiny bodies when my body can't seem to get enough energy to keep up with my own schedule. Watching the carefree child always stirs something deep inside that causes me to yearn for that same freedom to run and laugh and explore at will. Some days I let myself be that child. We should all do that a little more often... 

The Moving of the Water

My little guy is picking a stone up out of the water. Painting water is very interesting. We tend to think of water as always being blue. Water, however, is colorless. It simply reflects whatever is above it. Because most of the time that is blue sky, we tend to think of water as always being blue. There is almost no blue in this puddle, however. So finding the colors that really are there is a fun challenge.

Beach Cherub

Well, here she is at last... my hot babe on the beach... my bathing beauty... my cute little beach cherub. I do love children. To me they represent innocence, hope, potential, purity, meekness, and joy. I love to hold a child's hand, play with a child's feet, and answer every single "why" they can come up with. Painting them, apparently, is no different. I have thoroughly enjoyed every child I've painted. I may have to stick to this genre... 

Batting Practice

I had a day out and found myself at a park. Three siblings were playing baseball and after watching and keeping score for my own boys' Little League games for 20 years I recognized that the older two where helping the younger one with his batting. I anticipated quite a bit of time to get some good sketches so I settled in with my sketchbook and pencil and began to observe.

The young batter had a routine of motions he went through that were oh so familiar. The tapping of the bat on the ground in front of himself, swinging it a few times for good measure, then choking up on the bat and preparing for the swing. 

The sister was pitching and the older brother was catching. I got a quick sketch of the catcher and then began to really focus on the batter. I was excited to have these repeated motions because I felt I could get a more in-depth sketch done. I did a quick sketch to warm up and just settled in to a more serious one when suddenly they called it quits and when home. Whaaaaat?!?!??! I wanted to tell them they needed a much longer practice session. But I was already worried they thought I was a stranger watching them so intently. Perhaps that's why they called it quits after only a few minutes. Alas, there was not to be done. They were gone. 

I did enjoy the nostalgia of the moment though... I was so ready for baseball days to come to an end after 20 years. But now that they are gone, I do miss them so. Just like the anticipated long practice, we never have the time we think we will. Carpe Diem!

Perspective

I've been working so hard on "Sunday Dinner" the past couple of weeks that I haven't taken the time to really get out and enjoy the incredible weather we are having here on the coast. So today I decided to just do it. And, as I typically do, I tried to squeeze in too many errands and of course ran into glitches, so my artist date time got eaten up. 

As I was driving along 101 looking out over Tillamook Bay I saw this flying saucer... I mean castle... I mean mountain... I mean... what is it? I pulled over and took a photo. 

When I got home I was frustrated that my afternoon out produced only this one photo. As I was processing it I was thinking about how what it is depends on the perspective of the viewer. And then it hit me. The success of my artist date depends just as much on the perspective of the viewer. 

If I had been determined to drive down 101 and look across the bay to see Cape Mears, I would have been sorely disappointed because a fog bank only allowed me to see the point of the mountain. Instead, I was delighted at the view the fog created. So maybe instead of being upset that my time wasn't spent the way I intended, I can be delighted that a handful errands can be crossed of my list, that I got to spend some time with people I love, I did an act of service, and I got to be out of the house breathing and seeing and listening and feeling an absolutely perfect day on the Oregon Coast. 

Perspective...