Following the extended winter funk, I am excited that my goal of adding another
painting to the BVI series has been reached. My apologies to any reader of the
previous post… it wasn’t my intention to delay the completed “Virgin Gorda Baths”,
as I only gave a small detail preview there. Guess I can only be grateful that I have
been interrupted within the period since I last blogged by those muses.
I have tried to keep the distractions that lead me away from the easel at bay.
Limiting the time checking Facebook within a week, along with Twitter tweets, and
daytime TV has been exhilarating. I still would rather have a face to face conversation
with friends instead of texting, but it seems that even in business, that is the only way
to get a quicker reply.
The evening isn’t suitable for painting, and the television gremlins still come
out at night to entice, ensnare, entertain with a plethora of eye and mind
The recent finals of “The Voice” have captivated me, and as each birth of another
creation occurs, I find myself wondering about the search for my own artistic
I don’t have any celebs to coach me, only to accompany me with background music
as I wield the spontaneous brush. Yet, like the show, the final result will be up to the
public. Will they like the results enough to tweet and post about, vote for, or adopt my
“babies”? Would the name and “voice” be lost within obscurity?
As the artist, I already know the result. Any creative knows it. I must
continue. It is what I do, and have been called to do. It keeps me sane in an otherwise
insane world. The muses know that. They are smiling.
For those who haven’t yet seen ‘Virgin Gorda Baths’, scroll down to see the
entire completed version of the painting.
In the comments, whether you are a “creative” or not, what is your gift to the world?
Have you found your voice? How do the muses speak to you?
Final day. Coconut Spiked Rum French Toast. What a way to say goodbye to Tortola! The Cane Garden Bay exploration continued with a return visit to Greenvi Studio where we watched a glass blowing session in light rain. A local market offered the usual tourist wares, and as the showers subsided, the beachfront and Dust, a local young man selling rum-filled coconut shells, grabbed our undivided attention. Happy hour appetizers were coconut shrimp skewers and conversation with Lorita and Simone, our friendly servers at Sailor’s Rest, and Mrs. Bean, the owner. Later, the evening ended once again with the sounds of island music along the beachfront and goodbyes to new found friends.
Trip epilogue: Have you ever experienced a serendipitous moment? On the trip, I found out that the captain and his girlfriend were unknown collectors of one of my paintings. They had purchased it during an auction for the local chapter of the ASPCA, and I was invited to their home after our return to see it. During the past month, I have completed the first of the B.V.I. series, ‘Cane Garden Bay’ while listening to island music by Kenny Chesney and The Zac Brown Band. One of the things I love most about the life I live now is the freedom to spend hours of painting subjects that during the weekdays in the studio bring back the memories of good times with good friends.
The group met Lorraine at the Big Banana Cafe for breakfast since Sailor’s Rest was closed for another holiday morning. There is just something about a johnny cake on the menu that makes the day begin with a smile. Maybe it was the fact that this wasn’t a familiar menu item back home, and the cooks were talented in both preparation and presentation. Next, it was back to the boat and on to Jost Van Dyke, the small island that was visible along the horizon. We had heard of the legendary Foxy at Foxy’s Bar, and were told that by arriving earlier in the day, he would be likely to be on the premises. Sure enough, he was seated within the center of the open-air bungalow, smiling from one ear to another, and talking rapidly to anyone who would listen to his bantering. He proceeded to tell us the multiple (now six) characteristics of an island dog, a lazy Black Lab curled up next to this island legend. (We found out later that this discussion has been recorded on YouTube.) One of the phrases I will always remember is the Foxyism “rain is spitting sunshine.” Cool, huh?
The second stop was in White Bay at the Soggy Dollar Bar, famous for its libation, The Painkiller. I wasn’t aware that we would be swimming ashore to get there, nor did I realize that it would be quite difficult to get back the same way, as three of us tried to exit via the rocky coastline after several hours’ visit there and to Seddy’s One Love nearby. The return to Cane Garden Bay led us back to Myett’s, where MargaritaBill sang along with the Candyman, a local musician, to end a pleasurable Monday evening.
Eggs, pancakes, bacon, and assorted fruit was the menu onboard the cat prior to heading out to Cane Garden Bay. Sails went up by 11:00, only there wasn’t enough wind for the entire trip. A stop along the way was made at the West End of Tortola at Soper’s Hole for supplies around 1:40, and we arrived at CGB around 3:30 p.m. Appropriately, lunch was cheeseburgers while listening to a background of Jimmy Buffett music.
A return visit was at Myett’s, where around the bar the crew had happy hour painkillers and attempted to watch the final round of the golf tournament on the TV. The bartender was disagreeable, and ignored our request for a change of channels, so we left to find another venue where we could watch the rest of the game. At The Big Banana, we were totally entertained with our bartender there who from time to time would stop what she was doing and in seeing our excitement, would remark, “Bubba out, Bubba back in” during the player’s advance to the eighteenth hole. The crew ended Happy Hour ecstatic when the underdog was finally declared the winner.
Before ending the evening, the decision was made to visit the beachside Elm Beach Bar, where there was a featured musician who allowed several guests to join him in the evening entertainment. One of our crew joined the band and received a round of applause from the guests who were either dancing or eating the local prepared barbecue. Plans were made for all to meet the next morning again at Sailor’s Rest, then sail on to Jost Van Dyke, which could barely be seen in the distance from the dinghy dock. Two of us would leave the rest and return to our Tortola home base where flushing the toilet did not require a pumping ritual, and the shower and bed was larger than a coffin.