I took Dot to the park on the isle. It was a beautiful morning and I could not miss it. I hurried her out at seven, and we took the ferry to the isle. My mother was with us. If, in her old age, she can manage to rise and take the ferry at that hour, surly Dot should, too.
She would be the perfect model if only she would stand still. I do not understand why it is so hard for her. All I require is that she stand, while I undertake the challenge of recreating her on the canvas- her red cheeks, chocolate hair, pale hands, unmatched figure. Her colors practically dare me to do my best to mimic them on the canvas. If only she wouldn't feel like her task is comprised of boredom, given to her by me for the sole purpose of making her miserable. Quite the opposite. I dare say she may not be pleased at this moment with what I am doing, but once she sees the painting, then…
She could have conversed with my mother. But no. She insisted on fidgeting, twisting and writhing, squinting and frowning. Her movement distorts the shadows, once begun I then must redo. I would finish sooner if she had only the patience!
She would be the perfect model, and could make a profession from it, if she could only develop the patience and stand bloody still!
Understandably, she does not like the sun and the gown. It is hot, but the combination of the two also brings prominence to her best features. The dress displays her majestic curves, soft and tantalizing. The dress is just revealing enough to attract the eye and leave a man wanting, but discrete enough to create mystery about her. The rays of sun shimmer off her hair, glisten in her eyes, create a magnificent aura around her…
She would do well to maintain the mindset of a tree. Trees stay in one place, they stand tall and magnificent… None of this mindless wiggling she insists on. But if I use this argument with her, she would tell me that the tree is not still, that the leaves are moving in the wind. But I tell you, so does her hair! It is one small detail out of many
I must admit my motives for painting her are not purely artistic. Dot is perfect, for being the woman in my life as well as the woman on the canvas. I hope that by bringing her to this island I will eventually gain the courage to tell her what I wish her to know. I paint her image on canvas, I would one day wish her to paint her own image- in my bed. But she is such a glorious woman, and I do not know what to say to her- she would dismiss it as artistic nonsense.