When I was living in Portland I didn't have air conditioning in my ghetto apartment. My computer would stage a mutiny and start smoking after a while, so I'd shut it down and head to the beach with my chair, towel, lunch, and a good book. I'd read a while, take a dip and fall asleep while drying off. When I woke up I would sit back in my chair to watch the afternoon show.
Making up stories about people strolling by was one of my favorite past times, but it was the people and their dogs that just plain fascinated me. I found it to be true that people and their dogs took on certain qualities of one another, whether it be physically or in character - the way they carried themselves for instance.
Over the years the beach got crowded, the people louder, and the scene began to remind me of why I left my home state over 50 years ago. The ice on the lollypop was a $40 gift from the Scarborough Police Department - didn't see the newly minted NO PARKING sign hidden behind a big SUV in my regular parking spot on a side road. It left me with a bad taste in my mouth and an ice cream headache.
I never felt good about the scene down there after that. So I took up surfing instead, but that's another story.
The Beach • Acrylic on wood panel trip triptych • $550
