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As noted elsewhere on my website, I work my day job to help pay the bills, and dabble in painting to keep cheerful. Like so many of you, my most recent work week differed in that I entered the brave new world of teleworking for what will be an as yet unknown length of time. My job is at the Virginia Department of Health, meaning that as work weeks go, it was a blankety-blanker. It will continue thus for who knows how long.

I can now say unequivocally that I know heroes. I work with amazing and dedicated and bright people who, when put to the test, rise. From the "powers that be" working seemingly 24/7 to manage the crisis to the boots on the ground willing to do anything to aid the cause to the pluggers willing to give all to maintain necessary continuity - VDH employees are living examples of dedication to higher things. And it has been wonderful to see this in so many other places: churches, elder care facilities, neighborhoods, stores. Everywhere, in fact, with the glaring exception of the pinheads partying on Florida's beaches.

Sidebar prayer: Oh God, please forgive me if I was anywhere near that stupid and awful when I was in college.

The Wednesday Night Paint Group is currently practicing social distancing. We had a funny email conversation this week, which began with one member joking that maybe she would do a painting of a roll of toilet paper. This led to a more serious concept. Maybe each of us could consider painting something, anything, inspired by the coronavirus world we all now struggle through. I'm thrilled by the notion, and hope to see some real creativity from the gang.

The work in progress you see in the attached photo is not part of that challenge. No, it is a watercolor of a waterfall. Not any particular waterfall that I am aware of, more from imagination. It's kind of like the many waterfalls in New York's Finger Lakes region, but only kind of. It's reminiscent of some of Virginia's lovely waterfalls, but, again, not really. It's mainly me playing around loosely with color and geometry. If it has anything to do with coronavirus, it's that what starts as a tiny trickle up top spreads wider and faster with each new cascade. Not that that's an intentional goal of the painting. In fact, I just realized it while writing this. The nice thing is that there is a calm pool when the water returns to the horizontal landscape. So there's hope.

The painting, like the times we now all live through, is not finished. But it eventually will be.*

Hang in there everybody.

*post-script April 5, 2020.  Here is the finished work:

Most artists I know both appreciate and fear commissions. The appreciation stems from knowing that you will sell the painting you now begin to work on. Fear because the end product does not necessarily have to satisfy you; it has to satisfy the single patron who'll be writing the eventual check. It is not always the most enjoyable painting time, but sometimes everything just falls into place.

A few weeks ago I received an email from one of my wife's coworkers. The coach of her son's high school basketball team was retiring and she asked if I would consider painting his portrait as a farewell gift (and, if so, at what cost). Deadline - less than two weeks. She attached about a dozen photos taken of him at games. It will not surprise you to read that my gut reaction involved the words "no way" with a colorful adjective in the middle. Before I started typing, though, I scrolled through the pictures. One of them had a detail that I could see working. Ego got the best of me and I wrote back with words to the effect that I would try, she would not be able to get it professionally framed in time, and - to keep myself off the hook - my fee would be that she make a donation in an amount she deemed fair to the non-profit organization she and Crystal work for.

The end product did not satisfy me. I took it on faith that I got a good resemblance assuming that the photo I worked from did also, but the coach's skin tones did not make me happy. Anne, however, was pleased. Gushingly so. Not only that, but Crystal sent her to my framer and they turned it around in 36 hours. Thirty. Six. Hours.

SIDEBAR - Frame of Mind on Grove Avenue is the Best Framer Ever. Miranda and Inge, you rock!

Cut to a few days later, Anne told me that Coach Idon'tevenknowhisname unwrapped the painting at the retirement dinner thinking it was a team photograph, and became downright tearful and speechless when he saw what it was.

I often say, most likely all through this website, that I work 9 to 5 to pay the bills and paint to keep cheerful. This experience absolutely makes me cheerful. 

Congratulations on your retirement, mystery coach.

Post-script: Mystery solved. Anne, the patron, has informed me his name is Don Burnette.