Solo Practice Earns Mizas

[Gale Austin McCenry]

30th of Fall
Willow Tree just outside the fish market
Noon

Another afternoon was devoted to selling his current work. As usual, Gale sat under his old an bedraggled sign that stated:

"Paintings and Drawings for Sale
Pre-made Pictures and Image Requests Done by Yours Truly "

The man would have his notebook on his lap, hand on top of it. His piece of charcoal would be under his index finger but overlapping his middle, allowing Gale's hand to move the piece of mineral up and down by simply lowering and raising his finger. His blue eyes skimmed the crowd for anyone who could potentially come by a take a look. He was trying to break the habit of drawing while waiting. The blonde disliked being startled when one was interested enough to stop him working. In efforts to look more approachable, Gale simply waited. It was a long wait too.

There wasn’t much to do that could allow the time to pass by faster beyond watching the crowd, yet, surprisingly enough, wasn’t very amusing at all. Finding himself extensively bored, Gale let his head fall back against the hard bark of his willow tree, which wasn’t his at all outside of sentimental value. It wasn’t very comfortable, then again, trees weren’t meant to be head rests. Soon after laying his head down, the murderer lifted it back up, due to the bumpy feeling that the tree had given him. Instead, his palm supported his head while his elbow was against his knee. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, Gale’s fingers played with his drawing utensil.

There had to be something worth looking at while he waited. Maybe the stands? They could be interesting, couldn’t they? Not particularly. There wasn’t much commotion today so the people didn’t seem very interesting. His eyes followed some who passed by and just skimmed over others. Looking over their attire, strides, hair, and facial structure. There were green dresses, black dresses, long and short skirts; belts, blouses and jackets; curly hair, straight hair, braided hair, red, brown, black, white, and gold hair. Sharp noses, petite lips, small ears, big ear, the list went on and on. It was amazing how much diversity there was.

As if some sort of vortex, Gale’s attention that was supposed to stay alert so he wouldn’t get startled, started to slip away, focusing on the attire of the individual passersby. There was an abundance of colors and styles, yes, but the artist’s eye saw several people have plain white, which was what he preferred, unlike his green shirt suggested. It didn’t take a second thought for him to come up with some sort of game.

“One, two...three…” He muttered under his breath, counting all the same colored shirts, that being white. “Nineteen….” The man watched carefully for he didn’t want to miss one. People crisscrossed, weaved, and occasionally jumped out of one another’s way, making it a challenge not to count someone twice. The blonde hair was ruffled by Gale’s fingers running through it as he lifted his head. Wait, there was one. “…Thirty four.” The hypocrite didn’t know how long he was at it, but it seemed like a while considering all the white shirts accounted for, but there are lots of white shirts…

This game was rather interesting nonetheless but it had to come to an end when someone approached the artist with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Good day to you, sir.” The stranger greeted with a nod of his head.

“To you as well.” Gale smiled politely and picked up his book from his lap. Pushing himself to stand, that man questioned.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

“Yours truly, huh? What would “Yours truly” ’s name be then? “The man questioned, a sincere, toothy grin was worn on his face. He wore a brown wool cap and a simple white shirt, another addition to his count. Scuffed and sun bleached pants that seemed to be too big and old shoes adorned his feet. He was much older than he was. Gale made sure to be extra polite.

“The names McCenry. You can call me Gale, sir.” Gale held out his hand.

Instead of taking his hand, like he expected, the stranger waved his hand in dismissal, “No need to be so formal. We’re both equals so let’s keep it that way.” His voice gruff but full of confidence.

With this, Gale’s eyebrow raised with a smile, intrigued by the man’s chosen words,” Then who is this equal I am speaking to?” Gale responded.

“Jeremy Fenter.”His smile only widened.

“I thought there was no need for formalities?”

The man laughed once, it bellowing for a moment, “Last names aren’t formal, lad, it’s only formal if you put a Mister or Misses in front of it.”

“Then our definitions of formal are very different.” Gale’s own smile grew in amusement.

“I suppose they are.” His head turned to his notebook in his hand,” What sorts of work do you have to offer, Gale?

“Oh, right.” Gale pulled flipped his book, “I’ve mainly drawn flora but I have been trying to reach out to more subjects.” Gale handed him his notebook of examples. He flipped some pages for him to his more recent work that would represent him better.

“It’s very nice work.” Jeremy said after a bit of looking back and forth from two or three pages,” Could be a little more spontaneous instead of everything being even in my opinion, but hey. It’s art.” He closed the book and handed him the book back

Perking an eyebrow again Gale took his book, “Is that advice I hear?”

“Could be.” Jeremy laughed again, “Do you draw portraits of strangers?”

“Of course. Anyone in particular?”

“Do you think you can draw me fishing in a small boat?” Jeremy asked, pushing his hat up slightly.

“Of course.” The blonde smirked, “Do you have any specific requirements for the picture?”

“Nope, just that it’s done by your own hand at the best of your capabilities.”

Once again, Gale was intrigued, “Okay, make sure to stop by tomorrow and see if I have it then.”
“Can do. Pleasure to meet you Gale.” Jeremy said, lifting his hat off his balding head briefly then setting it down.

“The pleasure is all mine.” With that, the gentleman walked away and disappeared among the crowd. “What an interesting man…” Gale mumbled.

It was an interesting greeting indeed. All sorts of people come by asking for pictures but that one was by far one of the more captivating conversations. It seems as if he wasn’t even interested in that picture at all but just used it as an excuse to say something to him. But one can never assume such things. He asked for a drawing and he was going to get it whether his in intentions on requesting a picture was to talk to him or not.

The artist's face was blank as he thought, standing there awkwardly before a smile slowly grew on his face and he sat down. He better get on top of this picture so he could have it ready for tomorrow…

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Now that he had something to do while he waited for another civilian to come by, Gale decided to get to the picture.

He flipped his notebook open to a fresh page and took his charcoal in his left hand. Taking a moment to visualize what the finished product would look like, the page gradually filled itself within Gale's mind. The picture would be at an angle, on the shore. The water to the right and the docks and city to the left. There would be more water than land, but a large ship would be in the background, making bay. Then, off in the distance, beyond the large ship, gliding over the horizon, would be a small, two person boat with a figure of a man with his fishing pole casted out into the water, sitting patiently for a bite. It’ll be sun set; he’d be heading back shortly but still waiting for that last bite. That last nibble. The people on the docks would be heading home, the streets becoming less and less active as people settled into their homes and beds to doze off into slumber. The waves would be calm and even and, allowing for a safe row back for the last fisherman.

With this on his mind, the artist had begun his work. He started with the defining lines of the shore, the pieces that separated water and land. The charcoal crumbling softly as it was pressed and glided across the paper. The very subtle vibrations of the utensil moving are one of the things that Gale loved about his work. Very few activities provided such a sensation. It was hardly noticeable when he was at work but the man could feel an absent feeling in his hand when he lifted the mineral off the paper. One that would return when it was placed down again to create more lines and shapes.

It was as if the feeling was entertaining his sense of feeling while his hand entertained his sense of sight. The wind and its salty sense would dance around in his nose, the ocean or crowds providing a constant noise to prevent silence from ever making his ears. It was a task that amused most of his senses while keeping his mind off of past or future events. He didn’t know what he would do if he never took interest in drawing.

The thin fingers made the straight lines of the few buildings that could be seen in the picture as well as the masts of the large ship in the back. Followed by those lines were the subtle curves of the waves and the sails. The civilian’s arms and legs, their torsos as well started to be drawn. This process continued on, moving to the large curves of the ship’s prow and other such lines. This was followed by the circles and “u” like curves like people’s heads and the few clouds he decided to place in. But he left the distant fisherman for last. Before he started shadowing everything but after he finished a majority of the lines he needed, he went to work on the tiny boat with the thin rod.

Hesitating a moment to enlarge that part of the picture in his mind, Gale made the small boat first, adding lines under it to show that half of it was submerged in water to give the affect that it was floating. Then the silhouette of the man and his hat was drawn next. It was small so at first glance it would look more like a blob then anything. Upon further inspection, of course, there was a hint of a figure in the black mush. The fishing pole was left for last, however, because he used his fingernail to attempt to make a sharper point for the thin line. Doing his best, the hypocrite made the two lines needed for the pole.

The long shadow that was casted by his hand was what made Gale realize it was starting to get late. With no further customers that day, besides the occasional person who would question what he would be willing to do, he packed up his things and headed home. He’d finish the shadowing in the morning before he started work again.