Progress and a sweet moment. . .

After the end of a long studio afternoon, I believe this painting is shaping up . . with some important eye work (notice lashes now!) and carefully orchestrated touches, she's beginning to reach the fullness needed for likeness.  There will be a little more eye work done as I'm not quite satisfied and the highlighting at the end will be so important.  I assessed the background at the end of the day and have made some decisions for changes and will reveal those when completed. 

The sitting and pondering. . .staring at the painting and letting your mind drift - well it's part of the process. . .answers do come!  You just have to be still and silent.  Or leave the room for a few minutes, walk back in and instantly see what needs to be done.  This aspect of painting never ceases to amaze me and I confess to have done some pretty terrifying things at the end of working a month or more on a painting!  But I can truthfully say that those changes paid off and were the right decision.  No regrets in that department.  It does not escape me what a luxury this all is. . .to take time with something.  That's not exactly the mantra of today, is it?  Yes, I'm counting my many blessings and it does not go unnoticed.

And speaking of time and a sweet moment. . . 

Naturally you are aware that today is Veterans Day.  Late this afternoon I headed out to the end of my driveway to collect my nicely emptied garbage bin. . .my neighbor was just driving off in his car and I saw that he was going to pull up beside me for a chat.  So I leaned on my bin and gave him a big smile as he drove up.  Mr. C. is the youngest 80-odd-year-old I know, and on top of that has a memory and life zest that astonishes all who make his acquaintance.  

Imagine my surprise and absolute delight to see that he was in full uniform. . .he looked beautiful and I told him so, without hesitation!  His handsome hat, ribbons, insignia. . .all the real swoon stuff I tell you.  I knew he was a veteran. . .and he said he was off to a local church that has a ceremony and dinner for veterans each year. . .a neighbor and contemporary of Mr. C. (who used to live across the street here during their young family years) invites him every year.  I remarked that it was wonderful he could still wear his uniform and he said, while smiling big, that it still fit after fifty-eight years.  I thanked him for his service, told him to enjoy the evening, blew him a kiss and said, "God Bless."  

While I wheeled my garbage bin back to the house I found myself overwhelmed with unexpected emotion, feeling like we had just shared a moment.  He so gracefully acknowledged my thank you for his service. . .I was totally lost in thought of our conversation and the look upon his face.  Then I heard the sweet young voice of my next door neighbor. . .he was talking to his daddy in the yard. . .a daddy who had served in Iraq when he was but a baby, a toddler. 

The day had already seemed reverent, important, noticed. . .