Wind as Soundtrack

Painting, at S.C.R.A.P. Gallery in Indio with Ryan. The 50 mile an hour wind is making the domed metal roof in this airplane hangar whistle and wheeze. You can hear it wailing around the place, a whiplash worthy breeze. My knees ache from crawling on the cement floor, cramp in my bones, but I am not going to stop. There’s paint to be laid, and brushes dipped in blackened water in old buckets, and pink in fling. The quietude of a mind fully engaged, eyes squinted every so often, looking at the work from various perspectives. Jumping up backwards on the table to sit and pen some words, two more hours of bliss ahead, I-Pod music, outside breaks, baby blue drops…


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