February 5--Horace Pippin, Lady of the Lake. So many painters came to Bedford. Professionals and amateurs set up their easels of cluttered the lakeside park sitting on every available bench sketchbooks on their laps. They'd squint at the hills across the lake and their hands would hover over the paper. Inspiration would strike and they'd bend to their work, frown lines growing between their brows. Some of the skipped the drawing and dove right into the blaqnk paper or canvas. Those were the ones I watched, those brave or foolhardy souls who believed that genius depended on spontenaiety, that preplanning or sketching would cramp their brilliance. Too often they flung their work away in disgust while the cautious ones worked carefully on their canvas slowly bringing the view to life. Or their interpretation of the view.
I'd like to be sitting beside a lake today, even a frozen one would do. The Clearing's summer season catalog came last weekend. I've found half a dozen classes I'd like to take. Now if I can only win the lottery or something, robbing banks is just too chancy these days.