The Perfect Day

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That Day We Floated on the Lake . . . .
“That Day We Floated on the Lake . . . .” watercolor on paper.

I have two paintings, including one new watercolor, at Hemingway’s in Marietta. This is part of a group show arranged by a fellow artist and member of the Atlanta Artist Center. The show is picked from juried pieces that were in recent shows at the AAC.

This show is on display now, and includes art from approximately 12 other artists. Our art will be at Hemingway’s, which is on Marietta Square, through December 1st.

This painting is a watercolor on paper, though the bright paint will look more like acrylic to some people.

This is a very personal painting for me, the second one I have done of this scene, which is based on photos I took of this area. The scene is of a favorite state park in Minnesota, overlooking a lake. I used to go camping in the summer a lot in Minnesota, and memories of camping on hot days, swimming and being outdoors are what kept me from hating winters there so much. This particular state park was a favorite of ours because it had a real live bison herd, and rock cliffs where you could go climbing, lots of trails, and even cactus, so you could pretend you were in Arizona instead of southern Minnesota. One very idyllic day we floated on the lake on air mattresses, a totally carefree moment in time, and it was a perfectly hot, blue sky day.

Have you ever tried to freeze a moment in time to capture it, like taking a photo? I remember thinking, while floating on that lake, “Remember this day, this hot air, this perfect sky, these clouds, this warm water . . . remember this, remember this . . .  “.

I thought, in the middle of January, when it’s 15 degrees below zero, this memory would carry me through the winter.

Well, that memory recall in the dead of winter didn’t really work as well as I hoped it would, and I froze as usual. That is one reason we moved to Georgia. I’m hoping now to find that perfect day here, maybe at a state park, maybe somewhere else. At least it won’t be such a desperate search for a memory to help me survive the winter.