Water Colors

I'm looking at these earliest water colors Still in his teens, Carter was trying to catch the atmosphere, the hills and hollows, the seasons. Some of them are quite good, a few blow me away. Truck worries, they can't take it in the shop until tomorrow, so I walked around used car lots down on Second Street. Looking at vehicles. Instructive, and boring, at the same time. Went to the pub for lunch, Shepherd"s Pie and a draft, then read Mary's letters for a couple of hours. In the afternoon I walked beneath the flood-wall and found a stump that was a perfect piece of post-modern sculpture. This one was large, wet and heavy. I only thought briefly about taking it home. How many stumps do you need, to make a point? Maybe there's more to it than that, maybe there's a connection between the way you feel and what happens. Of course there is. Despite all odds, when push comes to shove (it's always a bifurcation, listen to those blues songs), the balls of a brass monkey are indeed cold, whoever might make that examination. I seem to be within the bounds of control, Not acting out, or anything, but I didn't post last night, then remembered what had happened. I was reading Mary's letters, and she mentioned a painting I know, so I dug out the earliest Carter water colors, there was a logic involved, but it escapes me now. And I looked at them the rest of the evening. Noodling in art appreciation. Like I had an opinion, which of course I do, you can't handle this stuff and not have an opinion. Another red wall. This is difficult painting project: prep, tape, and first coat on the entry. It looks like shit. But it's only the first coat, and I know it will get better with additional layers. Take something through the bad into the better. Cool transition from one thing to another. I'm at the pub, later. having a beer, and the owners come in, and want me to sit sit at a table with them, talk about doing Shakespeare as a lark. We, actually, could do that.