Painting at White Rock Lake

I thought:  why doesn't someone set up a huge canvas at White Rock Lake, and invite everyone to paint?  I thought it would be a friendly sight:  bright colors evolving in a beautiful park, people creating something together.  I am fascinated by the creativity and uniqueness I'm convinced is lurking behind the faces of strangers.  I thought:  why not cast a net and see what a random sample brings? 

So I went to the art store and bought a 36" by 60"canvas -- the biggest I could fit in my Volkswagen.  I found a shady spot under a huge cottonwood tree, right next to the trail.  I set up an easel and tied down the canvas with stakes, so my giant kite wouldn't sail away in the breeze (no wonder sailboats are such a common sight at White Rock!)  I set out my water, brushes, and tubes of acrylic paint.  Then I took a deep breath, swallowed my shyness, and set up my sign.  It read:

"PLEASE HELP CREATE THIS PAINTING -- EVERYONE IS WELCOME"

What if all the rollerbladers, runners, picnickers, bicyclists, and birdwatchers thought I was crazy?  I forced myself to dive in.  I started with big, arching lines in cobalt blue.  I created "zones" on the canvas, shapes I hoped people might want to fill with their own ideas.  I heard redwing blackbirds.  I smelled barbecue.  People passed by and made friendly comments.  A few stopped to watch, but no one volunteered to paint.

Then a father approached me and asked if his 9-year-old daughter could paint.  Delighted, I soon had both of them dabbling away.  Strange flowers began to appear on the white expanse of the canvas.  Thanks to the first two, others began to join in.  A big yellow sun rose in the picture.  Two ladies strolled by and gave it a face.  Bicycles rested in the grass while their owners painted whirling pink spirals, leafy vines, and mysterious heiroglyphs.  A set of siblings, ages 2, 4, and 5, came along and added dozens of green vertical marks, which other people began interpreting as grass.

Best of all, everyone seemed delighted to be there.  An older couple, who never did paint, nonetheless set up their lawn chairs on a hill where they had a good view of the canvas.  They watched for over an hour.  It was a friendly afternoon.  Sometimes people talked;  sometimes people painted in silence.  When I finally packed everything up, I couldn't wait to come back.  The painting had a long way to go, and I was smiling from the inside out.