Running From Cameras and Other Monsters

My editor is out of town helping a friend move.  This means he probably won't get around to editing this post before I publish it.  Good luck you wonderful people trying to make since of my poor grammar.

In all honesty the painting, as I type this, isn't complete.  But that is ok. After I struggle with words I'll go back to the studio.

So the painting that will be posted is about the time I gave my statement to the detective at the courthouse.  I remember talking to a man for what seemed like hours. He was actually kind and thoughtful. Which is good because at that time I probably would have shut down with any other treatment. After this happened I went to the waiting area where my mom was.  On the way to the elevator she pulled me into the bathroom.  She wanted me to change my clothes into something she had brought.  She told me how 'they' have people waiting in the lobby to see who gets called for what.  When who they are waiting for leave 'they' call down to the camera people. My mom had probably rushed home and grabbed whatever clothes she could find.  Unfortunately her daughter was extremely insecure.  The clothes she chose were awful from a teenagers point of view.  If they figured out who I was and got me on camera I didn't want to be wearing shorts, a polo shirt, and a ball cap (none of these things did I ever wear).  So I stuck with the bright yellow dress I had on.  And either my  mom was so defeated by that point or kept her head and let me make the decision I will never know.

I made it down the elevator and through the lobby.  Thought the coast was clear until I got right out side the door and heard running feet. I wasn't sure what it was at first.  There was one camera woman.  I can't explain the rush of emotions I had.  Anger, fear, sadness, I wanted to say or do the right thing so she knew she was being mean. She kept shoving the camera at me.  Trying to provoke me. Instead I looked ahead with my chin up.  Or maybe at the ground with my head down. it's hard to remember.  I'm sure I half ran to the car with my mom.  I never saw the footage.   But heard they showed it. I remember thinking during and after it happened that the woman looked like she belonged on the fringes of society like myself and that we might have been friends.  It was also one of my first encounters directly with an adult being forcefully a jerk to me.  That doesn't sound right.  I felt like it was the first time I was around someone who didn't know me but who was playing the part of the vulture.  She was doing her job... But then again... one of my memories of my dad is him saying: 'With the cameras these days (1996) there is no need to get in someone's face'.  It translated to me as 'despite all this horror and shame you've brought on this family, I love you and I'm sorry someone was a jerk to you'. 

Anyways, I'm going to try and self edit this post and get back to painting.

 Here is the painting- It's 8 x8" and I'll call it the tittle of this blog post.
 It's funny. I put all this detail in the reflection in the camera lens then had to destroy it to make it look more like a reflection.. Oh! I wanted my photo reference. Even caught myself looking around my desk for the photo reference in the middle of painting. But, I saw this awesome show by this wonderful artist who works from memory and I copied her style. I'm not sure how you'd feel about having your name in this blog so I'm leaving it out.. but you know who you are.

Just got a text from my editor 'proof read and spell check'.  yup.  ok good people it's up to you to tell me what I did wrong grammatically.

Till next week... well, the Xmas thing is about to happen so if I miss a Tuesday or two no worries. Xmas cards and gifts need buying and sending.