The Box: Opened

I’m preempting Jer’s day on this blog to announce, TA-DA, that I opened The Box. Now my circling and anxieties were not entirely about whether the paintings are any good. I worried that they might have been damaged, however carefully they were wrapped. I worried that some insect might be eating away at the paintings as I worried. I worried that I couldn’t handle the size in my studio, which is usually big enough but never Big. I worried that somehow the linen would end up scattered on the floor, trampled on, laughed at, cut in two.

What I mean is that I was a trifle neurotic.  I played my flute long and seriously before I opened that end of the box. I even laid it on top to allow its good spirit to penetrate.

I emptied out the studio and Jer and I carried in a second table so the stretching work might be facilitated.

Unrolling the bundle from its lavishly papered state, the first color appeared:

It look OK. Then further along, lots of color appeared:

Paper removed, the back didn’t seem eaten up by kangaroo rats or scorpionsL

And then, over I turned it (I had to do this by myself, having sent Jer off for the consolatory champagne).  I tacked it to the wall beside its cousin, the little study of the same scene:

Ahhhh.

The Amargosa, panels 1 (masonite 12 x 16) and 1 (linen) 4′ x 5′

Awwwwwwwww.  It’s OK. 

All that angst for this? Yep, it was a big project and an intense project, a time and place that still reverberates in my fingers and gut, the project of a lifetime. So a little neurosis was called for, no?   –June

This entry was posted in Amargosa Desert, Art, Goldwell Open Air Art Museum, oils, painting, pentatonic flute, Studio and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to The Box: Opened

  1. Diane Elizabeth says:

    I salute your neurosis — if not for this, then what?!! And have another glass of that champagne — you have earned it.

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  2. Sheila says:

    Merry Christmas, June! This is a nice little present to yourself, the unveiling of your triumphant time in the dessert. I too was holding my breath when I figured out you’d have to roll these up to transport them home. As if this hasn’t been done for eons, but still, when it is our work, and sweat and angst, one can’t help but envision the worst. I am happy that you are ahhhing and not aggghhhing.

    Have a sip of champagne for me! Cheers!!!

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  3. DEL says:

    A TRIFLE neurotic? “Seriously” is more apt! Insects?? Trampled on? REALITY CHECK NEEDED! The transported pictures will be great – I am eager to see them all. DO you have somewhere to view them all at once? Reminds me of Velda Newman whose huge quilts in progress must be hung on one or two walls in one room then out the door and around the door frame onto the wall in the hall. When she shows them on stage she needs half a dozen “holders and folders” to hold them up.
    Show more! Have a very special Xmas! Love, Del-at-home.

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  4. June says:

    Terry, Terry, Terry, patience is all. Particularly when I haven’t tried stretching the first one yet — which I already see some places needing a touch of paint. Besides, my co-stretcher has visitors for Christmas and somehow doesn’t really envision himself stretching canvas on Christmas Eve and Day. This isn’t Jer, who helped me once stretch a canvas and doesn’t envision himself ever doing it again……

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  5. Gerrie says:

    Yay!! I was going to volunteer to come over and do this for you. I am happy you got over your angst. Now, I want to see them up close and personal.

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  6. terry grant says:

    Looks great. When will we see them?

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