I was in the checkout line at A.I. Friedman in Port Chester, when I ran into my neighbor Marla and her 7-year-old daughter Courtney. Their cart was overflowing with tempura paints, brushes, rollers, sponges, and painters tape.
By Sol Hurwitz
I was in the checkout line at A.I. Friedman in Port Chester, when I ran into my neighbor Marla and her 7-year-old daughter Courtney. Their cart was overflowing with tempura paints, brushes, rollers, sponges, and painters tape. Here is a great post by Surepaint that would help you make the right choice when it comes to painting your space.
“Hey, Marla, why all the art supplies?” I asked.
“Halloween window painting,” she replied. “We’re ready to paint the big one.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You mentioned ‘we’. This is supposed to be Courtney’s painting. Parents are only supposed to buy the supplies and clean up afterwards.”
“Look, I was a fine arts major at Yale. I can’t miss this opportunity,” Marla told me as we walked to the parking lot. “Courtney and I are in this together.”
“Well, what’s your subject?”
“It’s one of the defining issues of our time,” Marla replied.
“You mean the exploding budget deficit, income inequality, hydrofracking?”
“No, it’s the Rye-Harrison Game,” said Marla.
“The Rye-Harrison Game? How is that a defining issue?” I asked.
“The game is a metaphor for all the conflicts in our society,” Marla explained. “Class warfare, rich against poor, the clash of civilizations.”
“But the Rye-Harrison Game is about sportsmanship, athletic prowess, community pride,” I said.
“Au contraire,” said Marla. “Football is a blood sport. It symbolizes violence and brutality.”
“Your painting is beginning to sound like Picasso’s Guernica, the mural that depicted the sufferings of war and the violence it inflicts on individuals.”
“Exactly,” replied Marla. “Guernica is our model.”
“But Guernica is a huge mural,” I explained. “It’s 11 feet tall and 26 feet wide. The rules say Courtney’s painting can’t be higher than three feet. Where do you plan to paint this?”
“A large subject needs a large space. We have permission to take over all of the windows at Citibank,” said Marla. “This will be Westchester’s preeminent example of public art, and Michael Corbat, the new CEO of Citigroup, will be there for the dedication.”
Courtney finally spoke up. “Can’t I just paint jack-o’-lanterns, ghosts in a cemetery, or a witch on a broomstick?”
“Maybe next year, dear,” Marla said.
As Marla was loading her art supplies into her SUV, her cell phone rang. “Hello,” said Marla. “Yes, this afternoon would be fine.”
Turning to me, she announced excitedly, “That was the set designer for ‘Wicked’, the Broadway musical about the witches of Oz. He’s coming to help install my Halloween lawn decorations.”