Well I’m finally back in NC after nearly a week back home in Boston. For anyone not up to date, I was flown up there by a gallery owner to paint a piece on the wall of a hallway.

I left in the chilly dawn of Wednesday the 16th. I found a Petra tape for 75¢ a few days prior and my sweet white pickup truck and I glided along on a stream of cheesy Christian rock. Years ago my then-junior high buddy and now-roomate Clint and I watched some thing on PBS or something about this band. They were playing an outdoor festival and their keyboard player had a big Hammond organ on a swivel base and thought it was awesome that he pivoted with the music. Since then we’ve been mildly obsessed with finding Petra merch. Flights were on time and everything went smooth. Luckily both flights left me alone in my row and I got to recline across the seats. Poor man’s first class.

I met up with Jenny near Boston’s WTC and we had some breakfast and chatted. Afterwards I drove her over to her office near Back Bay and then headed to Chelsea.

Yes. Twas good to be home.

I must say, I’ve never been to Chelsea before despite having worked just across the water for nearly a decade. It’s got some cool little areas and some cool views of the Tobin and the water. Kind of a “nice place to visit, wouldn’t want to live there” thing though. Paying a toll every time I head into Boston would be maddening.

This was the view of the Tobin from where I was working. The area was heavily Latino so I got to try out my crappy Spanish whenever possible and I ate this sweet arroz con pollo dish two days in a row for lunch at this little hole in the wall. Fried plantains. Dude.

Off subject tangent alert: Latin women are amazing. I noticed this when I used to work third shift in Boston for a few years and I picked up the green line at 7:00 am at Government Station. You see the back view of a young girl with an incredible figure wearing impossibly tight jeans with four inch heels and six inch hoop earrings. Then she turns around and you see her from the front and she’s well over 50 with a face like an old Indian chief. It’s like some siren’s song or something.

The gallery, which will be called Culturahs when it’s officially done and opened, was a great space on Broadway. There’s a long hallway you have to walk down to get to the main space and this was where I was to set up shop painting a 6×3 foot space marked by decorative molding nailed to the wall.

Initially the owner told me something in the style of “Triptych for Dara” was what he wanted. I hadn’t realized until a full day and a half of being back home and working on sketches that what he wanted was pretty much a copy of that painting.

I climbed the scaffolding and got started. Problem is, the hallway was too narrow to really get good photos of it, but there will be professional photos taken soon enough when the owner makes prints.

All in all the trip was a success. I realized early into the connecting flight, when the plane was still climbing upward through the early morning, that the sole reason I was on the plane was because I make paintings. The ticket was bought for me because of a painting I had done and because I was hired to do another.

I’ll remember that view from the window seat for a long time.

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 24th, 2008 at 1:31 pm and is filed under Uncategorized.