Rainy Day GoodWill

Black clouds in early morning make the coffee extra good as I sit on the little covered porch and watch the pouring rain, the blackbirds gathering in the chartreuse grass, the waterspouts gushing.  Perfect day to browse at the local thrift store. I have a special mission.

The kids are coming to the beach house for a week. Good gracious survival tactics needed.  Surviving in the bush among wild beasts was good preparation.  In the Serengeti the camp boys drew on my shirt, comical, delightful creatures dancing front and back.  Taking inspiration from Vivienne Westwood's Gold Label Collection of 2008 I will have the kids paint clothing.  Scouting Goodwill for light colored cotton shirts, skirt and pants, I buy at no more than $3 whatever offers a smooth surface.  It was a purple half price day and I was in luck, white oxford cloth boys shirts for the little guys, a khaki Safari shirt for the big guy, and for the girls a white linen blouse, a green dress, and a wide brim straw hat.  They will all will be covered in paint before long.

I buy fabric paint and face paint, brushes and plastic rolls. Prepare some African drum music to get the kids in the mood. Excitement builds as I imagine creative juices flowing through little fingers. Think I'll title the happening "The Enchantment".

Writing Company

 

 

I dress today in newly found Goodwill clothing. A long denim skirt with Peruvian embroidered leather belt, a plaid ruffled blouse and a velvet beret. (Total of $12!!)  My notebook stuck in an old leather satchel. Purple sunglasses complete the look as I prepare to discover coffee houses in Seattle, Washington.  Starbucks was born in this city partly because of the cool wet weather. I take along my notebook to record the adventure I seek.

Staring at Eliot, Steinbeck, Faulkner, Parker, Joyce, Nabokov, Orwell, Kafka they are having a ball drinking wine and absinthe, smoking, wearing hats pulled low over slicked back foreheads, bundled in overcoats against the chill of sitting in an unheated pub. Dark rainy late afternoon somewhere in Dublin, Prague, Vienna.  Some engage in wild debate, some sip coffee absently, some read from an open book, some tell jokes, some grin at another woman, some grin at me.

They wear brown, steel, crème, ochre, sienna, most men in neckties, women in wool jackets, scarves, cloche hats. The café is dark, smoky, dimly lit by curtains and grime. But they are in the company of genius.

I sit on a stool at a small red Formica table against the wall. A woman in a pastel fleece, clutching a flowered Vera Bradley bag and a paper cup of coffee is reading her Nook, slumped so much I am sure she is asleep until she flicks the new page with a lazy finger. Large couples enters carrying heavy leather satchels, wearing business suits and one opens  a red spiral notebook and begins  talking loudly. More people enter all of them fat ordering Frappuccino’s and brownies. Where is the poetry?

Outside the sky is cobalt blue, and the trees are flaming scarlet and gold, a bite in the air, a zip in the step, the poetry is there not here.

I want to discover. There must be something here not just for that company of genius.

Two fat geezers enter in shorts, a red long tee shirt, bald, with big white sneakers, the other wearing a black cowboy hat, grey tee shirt and jeans. He lays down a pack of cards, and a backgammon board. They order coffee, bottles of water, large plastic cups filled with ice, two bagels with crème cheese, enter in their gift card numbers. Their voices rise in volume.  I find the poetry now.  It is out the door and I leave for the scarlet trees.

Painter's Smock

Found this delightful grey smock in the Plus Size rack for $5 a sequined tank for $2 and rayon sienna colored trousers for $1.00.  Terrific painting outfit I say. Who cares if a little oil paint gets spattered about on an outfit under $10? And I am ready for the patrons and collectors who gather outside my studio door in search of the latest and best paintings. Certainly they would be more impressed with an artist who wears an outfit such as this as opposed to a ragged tee shirt and dirty jeans.  I will wear the combo many times. It will inform my work. I will paint in colors of sienna, Payne’s grey, shrimp, and add a little bit of aubergine. Soon I will show you the results. 

I am thinking of Zanzibar, of the dark, back alleys and the smoky nights, and the warm colors. Hauntings and Memories I will try to pull out of the brush.   Gather the jangles of bicycles and twitter of birds. Capture the festive streets with merchants peddling hand crafted wears from tiny shops open to the air.

I will travel through memory now in my painter’s smock.