Sunday Afternoon at Pepper Mills Lake

Sunday, I was at Pepper Mills Lake with my easel and paints, trying to make an ironic painting. Which never really works, for some reason. But I was trying anyway.

I just think it's funny to see these self-important people with their designer jogging gettups walking their designer dogs, leash in one hand and a bag of poop in the other. It's so fashionable. Makes me think of the woman with the monkey in Seurat's Sunday Afternoon at La Grande Jatte.

One person after another came up to look at the painting and ooh and ahh over the dog in the picture.

"Oh look, Susan, it's a Shih Tzu. It looks just like Teresa's Princess."

"You're right, it has the same markings and the same bow. But that's not Teresa!"

"No, that's not Teresa. Who is she?" wondered the first woman.

I explained, "I just make people up."

"I don't recognize her," Susan said.

And one after another in the same way. None was aware that I was making fun of them with the pretentious woman, the pretentious dog.

At one point, I had the woman in the painting smiling, but apparently it was a very false looking smile, and this made a number of passersby angry.

"Who does she think she is?" they would ask. "Barb, who is that woman? I don't recognize her!"

"I just make people up," I'd say.

They'd stand there for a few minutes, dog on a leash in one hand, a bag of poop in the other, sparring looks with the woman in the painting and trying to figure out what label manufactured the jogging outfit I'd invented, and then they'd move on.

A feminist professor critiqued the painting and demanded to know the gender of the Shih Tzu. There wasn't one but on the fly I decided it would be safe to say the dog was a male. That made her very angry with me, I prefer not to speculate why.

Most of the time, the men ignored me. Every 15 minutes or so a guy would ask me if I was getting any dates, always thinking that the joke was original. A couple gentlemen and one lady showed interest in my technique and congratulated me on following my vision.

A dog tried to pee on my easel leg.

Finally one young couple came by and laughed. That made me feel good. And then a woman on a bike stopped and asked if I had felt it necessary to include the "doggie bag" as she put it.

"Why not?" I said. "There’s an etching by Rembrandt illustrating the Good Samaritan. In the corner of the print, there’s a dog deficating in the gutter. I think I'm in good company."

"Oh, whatever," and she rode off annoyed. I like to think she was still thinking about the painting as she passed the people walking their designer dogs along the cement lake path.

A woman stopped by and asked if she could commission me to paint her dogs. So tomorrow, I have an appointment at her home in Glennshire Chase.

When I got home to my apartment, I made the announcement. "Everyone, I have great news! I'm going to be a dog painter!"

Of course I live alone, but I amuse myself, and that's all that matters.

The painting of the woman and the dog is drying. Perhaps I'll post a picture of it.