This open air painting depicts the setting where the old man came out and sat by me and started a conversation. I wish I would have studied some more phrases from my Italian book, I would have liked to ask him if he was a farmer in the town. His face was leathery brown just like another elderly gentlemen whom I saw open a set of green, heavy wooden doors through which he then drove his old red tractor (much like the one my father had), and bounced his way out to a field on the edge of town. Both men had wirey white eyebrows, and a caramel color to their skin which comes from hours laboring under the mid day sun.
This was one of the more roomier spots I had in town to sit and paint. It was somewhat of a parking area for a set of flats that appear just to the left in the painting. Most autos were parked in underground garages like you see the doors of at the base of the buildings in the painting, or behind closed, gated drives. I felt less likely to get run over by the quickly moving cars that zipped through the town on what appeared to be roads that would only accommodate one car.
I’m sure the owners of the drive where I sat to paint the scene of geraniums in a window was probably ticked that he had to worry about avoiding me as he entered and left his property, one day even running over my white sweater as he hustled to get into the drive at the end of the day. (Must have been late for supper).
Hardly…as most people ate around 7 o’clock at night….which was tough on me as I was SO hungry by the time 5:30 rolled around. No wonder that first glass of wine made me feel so talkative when we sat down to dinner so late in the evening.