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Behind the Painting
I spent a cold afternoon at the American Museum of Natural History. I sat on the steps of the Gilder Center, drawing the cliffs and caverns of the atrium, watching visitors step out of the New York streets and into a concrete canyon.
Parents stopped to rest while their kids climbed across the stairs, sensing the adults’ eagerness to leave, but not nearly ready. A mom cautioned her daughters.
“Be careful. Don’t kick anyone. Especially the man painting.”
A few kids gathered around to watch me put the finishing touches on the page. Lindsey, keeping a close eye on my paints, asked them, what was it missing?
“I would’ve connected the heads to the bodies.”
“The walls are not as smooth as what he painted.”
“There’s five people on the bridge, not four.”
“It needs yellow. For the taxis outside. And red. You skipped the exit signs. It’s still good though.”
There’s always room for improvement. As his family was leaving, one kid asked, “Are you going to be here again?”
I said sure, I’d probably come back sometime to paint the Blue Whale. It’s been a few years.
“Oh, okay. Because we’re moving to California on Monday.”
