chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

priming

1961 - DAK priming canvasIn this photo, my mother is priming a canvas. Straw-hatted and gloved, she’s just outside the garage, dipping her wide brush in an old Yuban coffee can. She loved that hat and wore it until it fell apart, dropping flakes of straw everywhere. Loops of garden hose hang on the wall behind the larger canvas. The driveway, dappled with shade, slopes up toward the street.

My father would have stretched the canvas for her or mounted a plank of Masonite on a frame he had built, perhaps pulling the screws or nails from another of those metal cans — Yuban, Folger’s, MJB. They were everywhere in his shop, filled with bolts and chalk, rubber bands, cup hooks and small pieces of doweling that might be useful sometime.

Dorothy is not quite fully smiling, with an oh-no-are-you-really-going-to-take-my-picture-right-now look on her face, happy to be seen but already in the middle of the possibility of what this painting might become.

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