The Artist’s Studio

November 2003
Huddled in the opposite corner at my easel I am shivering.

I started this painting when the last of the warm autumn air made it delightful to throw open all the studio windows and,
as my high school art teacher Jim Gainor used to say
“Paint the air, not the chair.”

The weather has turned and, along with the dappled light, in comes a frosty chill
so that the window is open for shorter and shorter spells.
I have been listening to “Girl with Pearl Earring” and am transported to Vermeer’s studio.
The descriptions of the grinding of each pigment and careful laborious mixing of paint
coupled with the hardships of living in 17th century Delft seem closer
and are made all the more intimate by the time spent warming my fingers against this cold November air.

The dusk comes so early now.
Ice has begun to form along the edges of the creek.
Gulliver’s warm furry coat is welcome as she lays across my feet.
The first snow of the season is predicted for tonight.
Nor’easter on the way.
The painting is almost finished.

I’ll bring the shawl in next to me at the easel,
close the window tight,
and draw the curtain to keep the heat in the winter half of the studio.
And I’ll leave the candle lit
for all those whose souls might be lost in the storm.