Oil on canvas, 24”x30”

What I remember most about this painting isn’t the subject itself, but a few specific moments happening around me as I painted it.

It was the first time I painted an entire underpainting in a single color, blue. I spent more time on that underpainting than I ever had before, or since. It still surprises me, because underpaintings are incredibly useful, yet I usually cut them short. (I’m not the most patient person.) For some reason, I didn’t this time.

I had set up a temporary studio outside on my patio. It was mid-October in Arizona, the weather was perfect, and I was enjoying the sun while listening to Stephen King’s 11/22/63. I rarely remember the exact book I was listening to while painting. But this one stayed with me. I was completely lost in the book and loving it.

Meanwhile, Hurricane Michael was hitting Florida. My husband, Michael, had recently left the cheffing world to become an EMT. He’d just returned from deployment to Hurricane Florence and was on standby for Michael. I thought maybe he wouldn’t be called this time, it was cutting close to landfall, but then my phone rang. I remember the exact moment: I was painting Bob, layering color over that blue underpainting, when Michael called to say he was being deployed.

I’ll never forget the excitement in his voice. He rushed home, threw things into a bag, and barely made it back to the station in time to catch his flight. And just like that, he was gone for 30 days.

Which meant 30 glorious days of solitude. Not that I don’t enjoy my husband’s company, but when I’m alone, I can feed my painting addiction until I burst. I was happy for him, and happy for me.

This painting is special to me because it carries the excitement, hope, and sense of peace I felt while creating it.