I'm trying to type real quietly because the owner's here making phone calls. I don't think I'd go into my work on my day off unless I really had to, but then I'm not an owner of a business, so I don't really know. Anyway, with this post I'm caught up--again. I'm sure I'll fall behind--again, but for now here I am all caught up.
August 31--Pierre-August Renoir, Portrait of Claude Monet. You'd think another artist would hold still, that he'd quit talking long enough for me to get him sketched on there. But, no, he has to yammer away about how he's planning to make this series of huge paintings of water lilies. He even keeps going on about his vision, how everything looks blurry lately. I've tried to tell him that all the rest of what the critics call The Impressionists drink too much absinthe too and our eyes have gone to crap too. He insisted on wearing that dreadful dark blue smock when I told him I'm nearly out of indigo and can't afford to buy more. I hate that cheap drapery he's standing by and the bare branches of that shrub look like crap. I should have painted over them. Oh please, God, just shut Monet up for ten minutes and I promise I'll be polite to my mother-in-law at supper tonight.
Well, that's odd but kind of fun.
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment