I used my new income to drive around. One evening, looking for a nightclub like the Insomniac, I was pulled over by the Pasadena Police. They found my Enfield in the trunk and wanted to arrest me. I explained that G G would not let me keep it in the house. Pasadena seemed too confining.
I drove to a rugged camp below Angeles Crest Highway. Coming out of the pass, vast carpets of cultivated flowers suddenly appeared in Ventura. Driving north through Cajon Pass into a desert, as dark storm clouds rumbled and hot lightning formed purple-cored geodes in the dark windblown sand--and illuminated Joshuas with arms raised in appealing to Jehovah.
Falling asleep in my car in Anza-Borrego, after driving all night. Waking up with a sunburn. Mistaking a dry shallow riverbed for a road. Older man pulling me out with his jeep. Said he lived there and he had thought of killing me with his 22 rifle. I remembered my Enfield in the trunk--locked and loaded. "Yeah, sure."
I discovered Newport Beach. I bought a Wardy, 9'6" surfboard with double stringers, red stripes, and a laminated and beaded skeg. I began surfing Dana Point.
Scouting for places to surf, I stumbled on Laguna Beach. That's where I wanted to afford to live. I fell in love with the art galleries and seascapes.
Roaming the cliffs (I think it was) north of Laguna Beach, where I went for tide pools, I discovered an older woman.
The rocks below the cliffs were accessed by a vertical trail and a twisted steel cable.
The woman stood before a small trailer atop the cliffs. She painted smaller seascapes than were generally on display at the galleries, while waiting for customers. I was tempted to buy one. Then I thought, "I could do this!"
My first painting was a blue pickup truck and a brick wall, in the early morning light, near the fish packing house. Pasadena had a big artist supply store. I bought an aluminum easel. a pallet, brushes, pigments, mediums, and turpentine. I also picked up some tabloid-like pamphlets (how to paint: the still life, the horse, seascapes, ad nauseam). I lugged my artist supplies down the steel cable on the cliff face and painted a 6 by 9 inch seascape, complete with seals. Beachcombers stopped to look. I knew I had a long way to go. I was embarrassed. The several months, I painted alone in my small bedroom, copying still life examples from my pamphlets.
I drove to a rugged camp below Angeles Crest Highway. Coming out of the pass, vast carpets of cultivated flowers suddenly appeared in Ventura. Driving north through Cajon Pass into a desert, as dark storm clouds rumbled and hot lightning formed purple-cored geodes in the dark windblown sand--and illuminated Joshuas with arms raised in appealing to Jehovah.
Falling asleep in my car in Anza-Borrego, after driving all night. Waking up with a sunburn. Mistaking a dry shallow riverbed for a road. Older man pulling me out with his jeep. Said he lived there and he had thought of killing me with his 22 rifle. I remembered my Enfield in the trunk--locked and loaded. "Yeah, sure."
I discovered Newport Beach. I bought a Wardy, 9'6" surfboard with double stringers, red stripes, and a laminated and beaded skeg. I began surfing Dana Point.
Scouting for places to surf, I stumbled on Laguna Beach. That's where I wanted to afford to live. I fell in love with the art galleries and seascapes.
Roaming the cliffs (I think it was) north of Laguna Beach, where I went for tide pools, I discovered an older woman.
The rocks below the cliffs were accessed by a vertical trail and a twisted steel cable.
The woman stood before a small trailer atop the cliffs. She painted smaller seascapes than were generally on display at the galleries, while waiting for customers. I was tempted to buy one. Then I thought, "I could do this!"
My first painting was a blue pickup truck and a brick wall, in the early morning light, near the fish packing house. Pasadena had a big artist supply store. I bought an aluminum easel. a pallet, brushes, pigments, mediums, and turpentine. I also picked up some tabloid-like pamphlets (how to paint: the still life, the horse, seascapes, ad nauseam). I lugged my artist supplies down the steel cable on the cliff face and painted a 6 by 9 inch seascape, complete with seals. Beachcombers stopped to look. I knew I had a long way to go. I was embarrassed. The several months, I painted alone in my small bedroom, copying still life examples from my pamphlets.
No comments:
Post a Comment