I’m in deep doo-doo. Last night, as I was putting away my camera with my sweaty slimy hands, it slipped, fell on the floor, and is now defunct. This is the third digital camera I’ve had; I dropped two of them, which tends to kill them, and one simply stopped working when I didn’t use it for a while. (And no, it’s not the batteries). So I can’t show you the paintings I did on Tuesday. I can’t even show you the painting I did today in the 105 degree heat (although I was under deep shade at Mt Tabor Park, so it was perhaps only 100 degrees).
But tomorrow, after my shift of plein airing at the Park again, I am going directly to Pro Photo, in the hopes that they will have a camera similar to the one I dropped last night that I can buy. I checked the web, but I want the camera NOW. I need the camera NOW. Please send good thoughts to Pro Photo through the ether, asking that they will stock what I want and won’t strip my bank account naked for it. A naked bank account is a bad thing. A broken camera is a disaster.
Well, the heat makes me exaggerate a little. It isn’t really a disaster — more like seriously annoying.
But here are two photos from the archives that might bemuse you:
Harvey Scott, Portland’s very own chauvinist pig and editor of the local paper at the turn of the 19th century — immortalized and well decorated by birds as he stands at the peak of Mt. Tabor Park. I’m still thinking of painting him. His sister, Abigail Scott Duniway, for whom a park and a school is named, was a suffragist at the same time her brother railed against ignorant and arrogant women who refused to stay home and cook for him.
And this photo is for all Portlanders and others around the country during this July moment of our trials and tribulations in the heat:
If you average last Christmas’s 10 day snow/ice storm with this summer’s incredible heat, you come out to something that looks rather normal for a Portland year. Are you consoled?