Objects in the Rearview Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are
I miss road trips. I don't just mean because of the pandemic.
I miss road trips with my Dad. Family road trips where we'd drive from Massachusetts to Maine for seafood or to Connecticut for pizza or to see the ocean. Little excuses to get in the car, listen to music and just be together.
For weeks during 2012, my Dad would count down to how many days it would be before he flew out to see us to embark on another road trip. (Once I began traveling to teach, one of my parents would often accompany me on my long distance trips. It was another excuse for time together.) That June 2012 road trip never happened. Dad died suddenly early in June of 2012, just a couple of weeks shy of our scheduled trip.
Recently, I was thinking about how many times I've driven through the desert. I remembered how much I love the look of the sun as it sets, the colors painted across the different flora of the desert.
When I'm alone, I'll listen to audio books or podcasts on various artists. If I'm lucky to have company, we'll talk as music plays in the background. If it's late at night, I'll roll the windows down in an effort to both stay awake as well as to hear the sounds of the desert. Sometimes I'll howl at the moon.
I miss all of this. I try to paint these pages to hold onto these memories just a little bit longer.
Supplies used:
Journal I made using a discarded, hardcover book with 100 lb Accent Opaque card stock size 9 1/2 x 13"
Acrylics: Holbein, Sennelier, Utrecht, Charvin and Golden (heavy body)
Painting knives
Brushes
Princeton Catalyst Tools
Water based Paint Marker (Posca, Molotow)
Stabilo All Aquarellable Pencils
Looked at:
Edvard Munch
Enrique Martinez Celaya
Reading:
Enrique Martínez Celaya: Collected Writings and Interviews, 2010-2017
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