And Along Came Color Studies...

Two-cent deposits on every pop bottle, Mr Brown, of The Brown Store where I took those bottles, wanted you to take candy instead of the money. I always took the money though, giving half to mom who would take it to the bank for me when I had enough. Mom and Dad always said it was for college. They had no idea it would end up being for art school.

Orange crates were other things I collected. On the way home from school I passed a Kroger Store, they were kind enough to put out orange crates for me. At home, in our basement I would carefully take them apart, storing my little collection of lumber till I had just the right idea for making things from those little boards. I made a western town from that wood for my plastic cowboys. Spent a lot of time sanding that rough wood smooth. Then sawing the pieces to build the town with my dad's coping saw.

The half of the deposit money that I got to keep went to buying little plastic cowboys, and later it went for special artist pencils and I switched from cowboy towns to making pencil boxes from my orange crates for my special art pencils. Never let anything go to waste became part of the way I did things, like using every inch of the masonite boards I made my panels from.

In art school Mr. Van, my art teacher, showed me ways of using my leftover paint. Scraps from making my own panels added to Mr. Van's idea of using leftover paints and along came color studies. Color studies are ways for me to see how a color works with other colors, and if they are even colors I will allow in my paint box. One bad habit I have is buying colors I don't really need... Paris blue, Prussian blue and Phthalo blue made their way into my paint box somehow. And I have a dozen reds I need to learn about. Painting small color studies is my way of doing this. Over the years it has led me to creating hundreds of these little paintings.

Aurora Was A Small Town

Before there was Amazon, before there was a Walmart there was Crosby's Sporting Store, a boy's dream. Glass cases with pocket knives alongside hunting knives with leather sheaths. Basketballs, footballs, and baseballs, both hard and soft. Fishing rods and all kinds of reels. If dad took me there I knew I would be getting something, like a glove to play catch. If my brother took me into Crosby’s it was simply to look. Aurora, a small town, had all kinds of stores. Back then, whatever someone wanted there was a store downtown where you could buy it. A store for coin collectors, another for stamp collectors, a store just for toys, and dime stores. It was simply a matter of walking a block or two and having a brother willing to drag you along.

Saturdays were exciting when Micheal was taking me along, I was still young enough to ride the bus for free, but big enough not to need carrying . Cook’s Music Store was a regular stop. My brother was in charge of the jukebox for CYA, a dance group for Catholic teens. My parents organized a dance every Friday night for kids from the girls school and the boys school to meet and dance. Every teen was welcome, you did not need to be Catholic, just to be good. Mom was on the phone all the time asking parents to chaperone , dad was in charge of the popcorn and other treats and Micheal filled the jukebox with the latest hits.

The bus ride down was full of neighbors heading to town to work or do their shopping. Mr. Swanson, on his way to his shoe store, reminded my brother to put the paper on his porch and to tell mom that shoes were on sale. Mrs. Miller was sorry she's missed her chaperone pledge. Then, the bus was full of neighbors and friends. Aurora was a small town and the downtown was its unofficial meeting place. I cannot remember a time when I wasn't standing in front of some store waiting for mom or dad to finish some conversation. Sometimes they would meet at the dime store and sit at the counter where I'd get a Coke in a real glass. I remember splitting a hamburger with my brother there once, and buying my other brother goldfish and carrying them home in a plastic bag, watching them swim around in that bag while riding the bus home. Neighbors smiled at me holding my bag with the goldfish.