Painting No. 25 Storm Gathers over Algonquin
I decided to check out the west gate entrance to the park. It has been denigrated to bunker status, hidden behind grave-like mounds of manicured dirt and flowers. Marg and I viewed it from numerous angles for the most advantageous perspective.
The storm that threatened from above was the perfect metaphor regarding the continuing privatization of Algonquin. As a life-long resident of the area and as an artist who treasures it, I find this path an ill advised one. I scaled the deep ditch on the southwest side, and set up to paint.
Less than 30 minutes later, it began to rain. I sprinted to the car. Anticipating my needs, Marg handed me a clip-on umbrella. I ran back and began painting in earnest. It rained continuously; then the wind picked up and threatened to topple the easel and send the painting sailing into the tall grass and shrubbery. I held the umbrella and easel with my palette, painting rather awkwardly, yet successfully, keeping most of the rain off my work. By the time I finished two hours later, I was dripping wet. However, I was satisfied that I had captured the energy of the clouds’ transformation.
We packed up and travelled back to Tea Lake for supper.