Hindsight and Changing Fashion

I remember beginning this painting and what I was thinking.  I remember the plans I was making.  The dress has a pattern that I was going to add.  I was going to draw my arms so that I could work out the details of the pose.  I was going to — in short — finish it. 

To all my friends to whom I’ve said I was going to do this or that, I dedicate this post.  I have the most marvelous intentions to do things, and I have a sometimes miserable record as regards getting them done.  Mind, I found this painting (along with some others) in the attic.  It’s spring cleaning time, a task that I dive into with great vigor about every decade or so.

Well, I had wonderful plans.  But that’s not the half of it.  If I had known then what I know now — about the changing fortunes of clothing design — I would have bought two of everything and gladly been out of style wearing the same clothes today as then.  I could have stocked up, you know.  Could have had one of these dresses for every five years or so — to pull it out and wear again.

The colors were wonderful.  The style of the dress and its fit were perfect.  The cotton felt breezy and comfortable.  And it was a very pretty dress.  But, alas, fashion has not profited from helpful innovation of the sort we’ve seen in other sectors of the society and its economy.  Don’t know about you, but I think today’s fashions are atrocious (unless your from India, or Ghana, or someplace like that).

Oh, to have a whole closet of them … I loved that dress.  Had not even the prevision to finish it properly so that you could see how wonderful it was….


More Memory Lane

Spring cleaning is a time of perpetual surprise.  I found this in the attic, this picture that I forgot I had even painted.  The sentinel tree lives at a nearby wildlife preserve.  I did this, I’m guessing, about twenty years ago.  I’ve done a lot of landscape drawing this year and some landscape painting.  But in looking for something to compare/contrast with this picture, I decided to use a drawing I made last spring.  It was one of the first really fine days and I took off during lunch to draw a little at my regular place.

It’s a bit of “apples and oranges” since the media are completely different.  But looked at as merely images, I’d say that I’ve gotten a lot weirder as I mature.  At a certain point in life you get comfortable  — finally — and then you can really let your hair down — and let your tree’s branches go wild.

[A little black speck to the right of the top of the sentinel tree is an ant.  He had the nerve to crawl on my picture as I was photographing it.  Filing that under “everyone’s an art critic.”]