PART 2.......THE WORLD COMES TO YOU WHEN YOU PAINT

Experiences get quickly composted when one is traveling. The blur of amazing things becomes just that, a blur. So even though I am currently being bathed in blaring Portuguese pop music wafting up to our 3rd floor apartment on this Alfama party street in the amazing city of Lisbon, I still want to recount what happened as I painted yesterday in the quiet town of Sao Luis; to describe what is “baked” into the painting. Rewind back to yesterday:

Sao Luis often seems almost deserted, especially at high noon, which is when I set out to paint one final scene before leaving. Three factors dictate what I will paint: 1) Is it visually interesting? 2) Can I be out of the way enough to not trespass or get in the way? And most importantly on this day 3) Shade, so I don’t die.

From the outside, it probably looks like I am planning a robbery, as I walk around trying to find some place suitable. I finally did find an out of the way deserted spot in the shade with a view I felt I could work with. I set up… and then the accordion music started; just behind the door to the building not 8 feet away. Then a vocalist joined in, singing traditional Portuguese music. This went on for four hours as I painted. Other musical accompaniment included: A black cat that would yowl up at a balcony at regular intervals, a small jingle bell dog that would pass by every 15 minutes, and the occasional small motor bike whining past.

The accordion music was coming from a retirement home, and some of the residents would come out and look at what I was doing. Eventually the whole staff came out en masse and gave a plethora of opinions, none of which I understood, but it seemed positive. Samal, a resident of the building I was painting, talked with me for about half an hour about the area, and the importance of getting back to working in traditional media (he’s a digital artist). A woman walked past with two horses, and later returned, introduced herself as Emma and asked if I would paint a portrait of her horses. A group of four kids got the courage to get closer, and one told me in perfect English that he also speaks Portuguese, Chinese and German, but is not that great at German yet. He is 9 years old. Then a man and a woman rolled two large trash containers down the street and one tipped over right next to me. I helped pick up the trash and tip the heavy container back upright, and they were on their way. A couple from Lisbon asked me if I could paint a portrait of their 2nd home in Sao Luis. A French couple said they were hiking the length of Portugal and had the tans to prove it. Patricia said that her son Kirin was afraid of me, but that didn’t seem to be the case, and we both agreed that it was difficult to know when a painting is finished. Anyone I had met on days previous passed by at least twice more as I painted, giving a wave or a comment.

The deserted town was, on the contrary, a hive of activity that unfolded as I painted. The man in the red coat and white cap kept slowly walking past me and stopping to sit on the bench. He paid no attention to me at all, so I put him in the painting. The orange flowers from the tree above kept falling and sticking to my painting and palette. The afternoon winds picked up, requiring me to hold the painting in place so that it wouldn’t blow over; putting on paint to thickly, making a general mess by the end, and in general frantic to put the finishing touches on a painting that will definitely outlive me.

If you want to get to know a place, stand in one spot and paint it. I met WAY more people than I would have otherwise.

I made some finishing touches on the painting. Here is the final version. Most will notice no difference, but little things drive me mad until I fix them. I can rest now, and enjoy Lisbon.