Almost Done?

Today when I went to the levee, I felt like it had been weeks since I’d last been there, even though it was only four days ago. My work week was so stressful that it felt like a month instead of three days and I’ve been kinda sick and have come home with a headache everyday. I’ve barely slept because I can’t stop thinking about stupid shit that I can’t really do anything about. I really, really hoped that painting would work its magic and bring me some peace. So early this morning, I got up in the dark and got my stuff ready to go to the river. I saw the sun rise in a spectacular orange pink glow and sat for a moment just taking in the cool morning air.

The painting drops twenty-four feet from the top of the levee. I’m working on painting on the lower half of the mural. I’m a lot closer to the river and I’ve become accustomed to the sounds of the water. Fish rise and splash. Geese are silent accept when they take off in flight or come in to land. Ducks quack as they swim. The flyfishermen talk to each other and sometimes to me. I’ve met Greg and Anthony and Joe. They catch fish across from me and say the mural is an inspiration. Today though, I was alone. Sometimes I hear shouting and I look up and it’s always some guy crossing Fourth Street Bridge on foot ranting to himself. I can’t tell from where I am his age or his appearance, but it makes me think of my son and I wonder if Shayne yells and talks to himself when he goes on his walks and runs. Things are better with him, but also worse in ways I hate even thinking about.

I was nervous about painting the river. To be honest, I’ve been regretting the blue. The river in reality looks more green. I realize that water is largely a reflection of what is around it and in it. But I started off with blue and if I change it now, I’d have to redo everything. And there is no way that’s happening. There is a woman painting a fantasy landscape close to my mural. I have watched her change her scene seven or eight times. I keep thinking, “Oh my gosh, how is she affording to waste so much paint.” I also watched her drop a bucket of spray paint into the river. She chased after the bucket and recovered some of the cans, but it made me realize how ultra careful I have been, both with my supplies and my decisions.

Last weekend when I was working on the splash up from the fish, I walked across the footbridge to the other side of the river to make sure it looked right. The first two times I walked across, I didn’t remove my harness and it rubbed on my thigh, leaving a rope burn. When I started out on the third time, I realized my leg was bleeding, so I took off the harness and realized that I needed to stop painting for the day. Rope burns on the levee. Is that badass or crazy?

I wanted to get most of the river done today, but it just got too hot. I was wrapping up my last strokes when I heard someone yell, “That’s the best one yet!” I didn’t turn around because I didn’t register that it was directed at me, until I heard “Hey, painter woman!” I stood up and looked across the river. A guy on a bike said, “You’re doing a great job!” I don’t know if it’s the best mural. There are some seriously cool paintings, but I’m liking how it’s turning out. I like the darkness of the river, and I love how it is setting off the fish.

People keep asking me if I’m done, or when I’ll be done, or if there is a time I will just have to call it done and walk away. I don’t know the answer. I started with a grid, but that’s not my usual process. I usually just eyeball everything, and if I mess up, I redo it. I started with the fisherguy and I made a paper stencil using my grid system and taped it on the wall and traced around it. I eyeballed everything else. The levee looks flat, but the cement actually has grooves and bulges and you can feel the curves under your hands and feet, it changes the dimensions of the painting just enough, that a grid is helpful, but not perfect. I think my guy is too small and jenky and I am going to redo him. And I need to lighten the sky on the left, so it matches the sky on the right. And I haven’t done the fly or the fishing line yet. However, I’m close to finished. I have enough paint and as long as nothing tragic happens and I don’t drop my supplies in the river, I’ll be in good shape.

Here’s the thing though. This mural helped me get through Shayne’s last mental health crises, my cousin’s death, and my sadness at my family returning to the Middle East. Even if my work week is stressful and challenging, I know the levee is waiting and everything will look better after a few hours of painting. I guess this mural is feeding my soul. Not sure when I got to be so “woo woo,” but I almost don’t want to be done. For some reason, I keep thinking about driving in the truck places with my father as a child. He always listened to “Radio Mexicana.” I loved watching my aunts and uncles dancing at weddings and parties and going to watch the dancers at Fiesta Day at the fair. I have this vision of Folklorico dancers under an adobe archway, something with rich, warm sun colors. Or maybe a harvest scene with chili or peaches. Something new that I’ve never painted before, but something that honors my heritage, my family, and my community.

But I am not going to get too ahead of myself. I’ll finish this and then see what comes next.