New Painting, old poem: At the Fair

"At the Fair"  16 x 24  Acrylic with photo - just completed.

This piece took me 75 hours of work, from preparing the source photo, to applying the last drop of paint with a glass dropper.  When the paint is starting to dry I must carefully inspect it for bubbles and pop them with a pin before they dry in.  There are small bits of pen and brushwork on some of the finer details. I would often use a nail tip as well to push paint into tight corners. The process takes so long because each small application of paint must be dry before another color can be laid over or beside it.  Its when the side of my hand would accidentally get into the wet paint as I worked that I would have to decide to quit for the day.

Here is a bit of the process:

Source photo, taken at the PA Exhibition this summer.

 Using Photoshop, the photo is cropped, resized to the 16 x 24 canvas size, then altered with increased saturation, brightness, poster edge and cutout filters.  This tends to outline and polarize some of the colors.

The photo is cropped into sections and each printed. Then the sections are reassembled and taped into place to line up with the canvas.  This looks easy, but it was quite frustrating and time consuming.

I decided that any part of the painting that was a sign would be applied to the canvas, while all the rest of the picture would be rendered freehand.  That entailed cutting out each piece and gluing it down, constantly making sure they were lined up accurately.  If one piece was slightly out of line it would make the whole drawing go wonky.

These are the photo pieces glued in.  next I could start drawing and painting.

I hung on to what remained of the photo because I did need to cut out and add the menu lists and prices later in the process.

Carefully, paint is applied with a dropper with colors mixed in a multitude of plastic salad dressing cups that have good snap-on lids.  I mix liquid or tube acrylic colors with a liquid gloss medium and a little thinner.

Here are some closeups:

Watch the painting grow from beginning to end in this little video:

That was the new painting, now here is the old poem:

At the Fair

(1981)  Copyright Kathie Bird

I’m six and jittery-thrilled.  We are going to the fair! 

We walk through Normandy Park to Seventh Street, my mother and sisters. 

I jump and stretch my neck to get a glimpse of the big high Ferris wheel over the rooftops. 

I have a whole six dollars to spend! 

There is a gentle roller coaster that circles the grounds. 

I marvel to see everything beneath my feet.

Fingers sticky with candy floss, my mouth red from a half-eaten candy apple

I clutch my take-home treasure – a floating balloon with Mickey Mouse inside.

It’s yellow.

My sisters and mother, much bigger than me, walk home so quick.

My feet hurt.

Halfway down Normandy Park I stop to take a pebble from my shoe

And let go of my balloon!

I watched it sail high, high up until it is just a tiny yellow speck in the sky

There is no consoling me while I cry.

I’m fourteen and walking through the midway

More thrilled to be with my boyfriend than anything else.

A ride on the Ferris wheel with him beside me feels warmer somehow.

I notice myself more than I notice the colors and lights and smells.

My button-front jeans flare out wide at the bottom, swishing around my feet

My denim jacket sports flowered embroidery front and back – my own creation

I carry a brown leather bag with long fringes that sway with my gait.

I feel grown-up and cool.  

We stroll toward a large tent with a sign in front that says “Adults Only.”

I know it’s the place where men go to watch women dance naked.

A guy we know beckons from the doorway. 

Giggling, we slip inside the tent.

I stand against the back corner behind the shouting crowd.

I catch glimpses of a woman dancing up front, removing her clothes.

My face goes hot and my stomach knots as she flaunts her private parts to the gawking men.

When we leave, I have no opinion – just the knots.

I’m twenty-three and just finished working my shift at the armouries booth.

Tomorrow I will volunteer at the lost and found room.

Because it feels good to do such things.

I meet my husband and daughter to enjoy the fair.

I take pictures of her on one of the brightly colored kiddie rides.

She bears a smug expression that looks so cute.

I buy her a yellow floating balloon.

I notice the colors and smells and sounds as if through her senses

And it’s all so exciting again.

The petting zoo and the butts of the big Clydesdales in the barns

And the big pink wads of candy floss and somehow always the smell of fried onions.

I have entered artwork in the competition and discover it bears a First Prize ribbon.

My little family congratulates me.

We three sit in the Tilt-a-whirl, one on each side of our little girl

Laughing at the rocking tease and squealing in the spins and sighing at the stop.

The balloon still floats in my little girl’s room.

No cries this time.  No knots.  Just joy.