It was during my first painting trip to Cape Cod in the summer of 2003 that I learned that painting
out of doors is fraught with challenges. Of course, the wind and sun, bugs and whatnot pose
their own problems. And it's difficult enough to paint in the solitude of your studio, but being out
there 'on display' really shows you some interesting aspects of human nature and tests your own resolve.
Mostly, people were simply curious. People would come and watch or ask me questions. Most people were polite, but some
just had to make their feelings about me and my paintings known — often from a distance.
"Ooo, somebody thinks she's Cézanne," was one such comment from the ever-changing peanut gallery.
On this particular day I was painting in Wellfleet along the marshy beach at Great Island. The tide was changing and
little crabs cavorted around my feet. I felt I had to be careful when stepping back to appraise my
efforts that I didn't inadvertently crush a few. So, there I was concentrating on the matter at hand and
trying not to molest the wildlife when two ladies came strolling by. They where having this rather loud
conversation, apparently unaware that sound travels: "I have a love
affair with The Cape." [Really, I swear I could hear the capitalization.] "I see lots of paintings of The Cape, but I
will never buy a painting until I find the one that truly captures my love affair with The Cape." At
this point in the monologue they stopped behind me. "Now see, this painting is not it." When I told Jim
about this later he suggested I should have turned around and said, "Yeah, imagine my disappointment."
That same day some very young teens "hid" behind a clump of bushes and made farting noises, which they
seemed to think the height of hilarity. Another day a wild-eyed woman came running up to me while I was in the
middle of a conversation with another painter and yelled "I'm an artist!" I don't know what she
wanted either of us to do with that information. I said, "That's nice," and tried to ease back into
my conversation, but she just stood there nodding and grimacing waiting for further acknowledgement.
She did not want to talk; she just wanted us to know that she was part of our special club.
I was just plain baffled by some people's comments and attitudes. So many people seemed offended
that I was painting — a sort of "who the hell does she think she is?" reaction, as if my actions
somehow threatened them. People would come up and criticize and talk about my painting as if I could
not hear them — as if I was just part of the vacation scenery placed there for their amusement
by the chamber of commerce.
Despite sometimes being a public spectacle, painting out of doors is a truly rewarding experience.
