Painting to Pizza
Debbie
is the same chilled peach colour as the hillside. In silhouette between the
hill and the sky on the right side of the painting are irregular vertical
black bars representing deciduous tree trunks as seen at dawn. On the left
side of the painting and most prominent in the fore ground is a pregnant
longhaired woman facing the left edge of the picture, her hands clasped
above her belly. her figure is only pencilled in at this point. I decide
to make some modifications to my painting. I think that my figure will not
be visible enough against the sky and hillside as I plan to keep her fairly
monochromatic with these two elements. So I decide to add in a cluster of
evergreens in the same colour as the tree trunks. I plan to paint my figure
on top of the cluster to act as a partial frame for the figure. As I am
painting someone comes by and looks at my work in progress. I am a little
concerned that they will be critical of the modifications I have chosen to
make mid painting. I smile as a defence to show my confidence when the
person comments on the layering of paint and resolve to continue with my
plan. It is my painting after all.
I am walking through the same wood that I have just painted. It is chill
but not too severe. I can see my breath. The morning sun which is making
the snow covered hillside glow peachly between the periwinkle shadows of the
bare trees is gently warming my skin. I feel like I am on vacation. I am
utterly alone.
I am practising basic keyboarding exercises. I suck. My fingers get all
tangled up. Every second letter is wrong.
I am starting my first day working in a dress shop in a strip mall with
glass fronted bays, similar to the one that burnt to the ground near my
childhood home. A woman has done an employment analysis on me and rated me
a fair and honest employee with no major flaws in regards of my
employability. So I have come to work with these results listed on a chart
which I give to my new boss. I will be working there with him and two other
female employees. I am left alone in the crowded little dress shop to
create a new design of dress and display it on one of the three store
mannequins. The other two dresses on display are red and black, so I decide
to continue with that theme. They are both quite structured rigid lady like
designs, so I decide to create something a little freer, swingy and sexy.
The dress I create is made with a drapey black fabric which clings to the
curves of the mannequin yet still has enough weight to fall nicely around
the hips to a flared hemline just above the knee. The neckline is deeply
scooped and draped to show of a fair amount of cleavage. There is a widely
spaced large red flower motif on the fabric and I allow just one to enter my
design, placed low on the rib cage to draw attention to the waist. Finally
I use a glittery red fabric to create a 70's style neck tie and knee high
boot to go with the dress. Finished. I step back to admire my handiwork.
Not bad. I hope my boss appreciates my design. I decide to go outside for
a break. It is a warm winter day, just the barest hint of chill in the air,
but the clear sun is warming the pavement and evaporating the last long held
shreds of snow, though it can't do much more than clear the top layer of
hard packed Ice in the parking lot, exposing the last spread of pea gravel
and creating the soothing sound of running water tricking down into storm
sewers. My co worker, a tall slim beige/blonde shorthaired woman who
reminds me of Carly, a girl I shared a highschool sewing class with one
year, is out side as well. Her evaluation by the same woman who did mine
was much less favourable. In fact it was barely passable. As a result she
has to fill out forms every day to account for everything she has done that
day at work. That is what she is doing now. I think the evaluator is
unduly harsh in her analysis, after all, Carly would have been fired by now
if she were really that bad an employee. There are a stack of three boxes
sitting just outside the store door. They have dresses in them and I
decide to receive them while on my break. While I am doing that a stocky
blue eyed stubble faced short haired blonde man dressed in chefs whites
comes over to talk a little and pass the time with us. He comments on the
attractive dress designs in the window. At first I think he is refering to
my design and I am thrilled. Then I realize he is refering to the one next
to mine. Oh well, sooner or later someone will appreciate my design I am
sure. He works at the nearby pizza place. He tells us how he would like to
be working at Genellii's instead. I correct his pronunciation of the name.
He seems annoyed and surprised that I know the correct pronunciation of the
name. He stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest, shirt sleeves
rolled up to his elbows as he tells us of some place that just got closed
down because of the unsanitary conditions in the kitchen. I say that most
places are like that, they don't bother to clean, just slap a new coat of
paint on over the filth and grime. I say that I have been in the kitchen at
Genellii's and it is scrupulously clean. He says that at his work place his
boss did the same in the kitchen, just painted right over the grime rather
than cleaning the kitchen first. Since my break is over now I carry the
three boxes into the shop. I don't really feel like checking each dress
over for any minute imperfections but I suppose I should anyhow. I will
feel guilty if I don't.
Douglas D. Anderson
"Debbie" <log...@telus.net> wrote in message
news:I8Xr9.23387$Sk6.2...@news1.telusplanet.net...
Is it the same chef from the unsanitary/closing down restaurant in Marco's
dream yesterday?
Debbie
"Douglas D. Anderson" <d...@rr.rochester.com> wrote in message
news:Rm%r9.46794$A57.9...@twister.nyroc.rr.com...<snip>
> > While I am doing that a stocky
> > blue eyed stubble faced short haired blonde man dressed in chefs whites
> > comes over to talk a little and pass the time with us. He comments on
the
> > attractive dress designs in the window. At first I think he is refering
to
> > my design and I am thrilled. Then I realize he is refering to the one
next
> > to mine. Oh well, sooner or later someone will appreciate my design I
am
> > sure. He works at the nearby pizza place. He tells us how he would
like to
> > be working at Genellii's instead. I correct his pronunciation of the
name.
> > He seems annoyed and surprised that I know the correct pronunciation of
the
> > name. He stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest, shirt
sleeves
> > rolled up to his elbows as he tells us of some place that just got
closed
> > down because of the unsanitary conditions in the kitchen.
>
> Is it the same chef from the unsanitary/closing down restaurant in Marco's
> dream yesterday?
I don't know as I wasn't there in Marco's dream. The possibility hadn't
occurred to me. Its quite possible that reading his dream caused me to
integrate elements in my own dreams. I often see elements of my dreams
reflected in other peoples posts here afterward so it would not at all
surprise me. Everything that we take in as information becomes fodder for
our dreams, including the dreams of others.
Debbie
Douglas D. Anderson
"Debbie" <log...@telus.net> wrote
Yes, that's what I was actually suggesting, not that you and Marco were
somehow meeting in another dimension. :-)
yoda jedi
> is the same chilled peach colour as the hillside. In silhouette between the
> hill and the sky on the right side of the painting are irregular vertical
> black bars representing deciduous tree trunks as seen at dawn. On the left
> side of the painting and most prominent in the fore ground is a pregnant
> longhaired woman facing the left edge of the picture, her hands clasped
> above her belly. her figure is only pencilled in at this point. I decide
> to make some modifications to my painting. I think that my figure will not
> be visible enough against the sky and hillside as I plan to keep her fairly
> monochromatic with these two elements. So I decide to add in a cluster of
> evergreens in the same colour as the tree trunks. I plan to paint my figure
> on top of the cluster to act as a partial frame for the figure. As I am
> painting someone comes by and looks at my work in progress. I am a little
> concerned that they will be critical of the modifications I have chosen to
> make mid painting. I smile as a defence to show my confidence when the
> person comments on the layering of paint and resolve to continue with my
> plan. It is my painting after all.
>
That's interesting. This seems to be conceptualization, at a
subconscious level. You're visualizing some kind of deep and
meaningful relationship here, symbolized by the pregnancy, but it's
just a sketch, which means that it's in it initial (ie, concept)
phase. You think that you're a little on the old side to be
considering this kind of relationship, symbolized by making
modifications mid-painting.
Well, the themes are similar, painting over mistakes and not wanting
to check each and every dress for minute imperfections. And also, the
intrigue with the dress next to yours as well as the chef wanting to
work somewhere else.
But I fail to draw anything concrete. Heuristically speaking, I'd say
that you have your passions but people don't appreciate your work in
the same proportions as you're passionate about what you do. Is that
right?
Debbie
"yoda jedi" <yoda...@mailandnews.com> wrote in message
news:74f42df9.02102...@posting.google.com...> > I am working on a new painting...<snip>
>
> That's interesting. This seems to be conceptualization, at a
> subconscious level. You're visualizing some kind of deep and
> meaningful relationship here, symbolized by the pregnancy, but it's
> just a sketch, which means that it's in it initial (ie, concept)
> phase. You think that you're a little on the old side to be
> considering this kind of relationship, symbolized by making
> modifications mid-painting.
I have been contemplating moving in some new directions lately. That may
mean starting over, learning new skills, dealing with the inherent set backs
of changing direction.
>
>
> >
> > I am starting my first day working in a dress shop...<snip>
>
> Well, the themes are similar, painting over mistakes and not wanting
> to check each and every dress for minute imperfections. And also, the
> intrigue with the dress next to yours as well as the chef wanting to
> work somewhere else.
>
> But I fail to draw anything concrete. Heuristically speaking, I'd say
> that you have your passions but people don't appreciate your work in
> the same proportions as you're passionate about what you do. Is that
> right?
Heuristically, what does this word mean? I have never heard it before.
Yeah, I'd say that sounds about accurate.