In Central Park with Andrea

Andrea M., Oil on Linen, 24x20 in.

Andrea M. was our principal model in 2002, the first year four buddies and I did some alla prima paintings of young women posing in Central Park one morning each week over the course of seven summers.  Andrea and I both worked part-time for the Visitor Services Department of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, as did most of the women who modeled for us.   Andrea is a beautiful woman, and I was unable to do her justice in any of the five times she posed for us that summer, let me assure you.  I'll spare you two versions.  She was a pleasure to work with and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely.  As I recall, we had unusually nice weather for each of our outings that summer. 

My happiest painting session with Andrea was the day we escorted her from our meeting place at 72nd Street and Fifth Avenue to our usual spot on a little knoll between the Boathouse Restaurant and the model boat pond, planning to seat her on the biggest and tallest rock at that spot.  But to our surprise, when we arrived there at about 9:15 a.m., a film crew was doing a photo shoot for some outdoor footwear manufacturer and they had placed their attractive young model on that same rock.

So we decided to pose Andrea at the base of a tree down below the rock a few yards and I was tremendously excited at this opportunity to show this film crew how much more thrilling painting a model from life is than taking boring photographs of a model.  I think I was even more engaged in my painting and even more vocal with my mates than I was normally as the painting progressed.  I remember excitedly telling Ken at one point, “See, that’s all you need to do on that arm,” as I proudly pointed out Andrea’s “summarized” right arm and hand in my painting.  It was great theater for me, but then I don’t get out of the house that much.

Andrea posing on the day of the nearby photo shoot, Oil on Linen, 24x20 in.

Andrea and their model talked a bit during one of the breaks and I always wondered how they got along and what their model felt about the frantic activity of us painters as we tried to do our best within the three-hour painting session, which I guess she might have occasionally glanced at from her perch on the rock.  I was proud that our Andrea was prettier than their model, in my opinion, a somewhat ridiculous observation, but characteristic of my aged, juvenile mind.

I enjoyed myself enormously all morning.  When I got the painting home that afternoon I was unhappy with a few things, of course, including Andrea’s bare knees, front and center.  I’ve thought of cropping the canvas or painting a long skirt over it, but it’s really not worth the effort, since the experience of painting the picture is all that really matters and I’m not going to go out of my way to try to sell a painting that nobody would want in the first place.  I wished that Andrea had worn a long skirt instead of a short one, because it’s so hard to paint bare knees, legs and arms alla prima.  That’s one reason painters in the old days had it made with all those flowing dresses women used to wear, fashioned with sleeves and long skirts.  Andrea, bless her heart, was of college age and not much into fashion, and we five old painters were not very savvy either, so we basically painted our models in whatever they decided to wear the morning they sat for us.  For one painting of Andrea, I brought along one of my white dress shirts that she agreed to wear.

Andrea in my white shirt, Oil on Linen, 24x20 in.

One of our painters always wanted our models to hold something in their hands, making them a bit easier to paint because they take some interesting, stable shape, rather than hanging limp like a “dead fish.”  So for  the session with Andrea shown above,  I brought along one of my favorite books from childhood, a collection of stories by Hans Christian Andersen, a Christmas gift from my oldest brother, and she held it opened in her hands while we painted her.  Of course I never got down to painting her hands.  I was focused on painting a “plein air” portrait.  But as we were well along in the pose, I asked Andrea what she was “reading.”  She frowned slightly and replied, “The Ugly Duckling.”  What tremendous fun we all had painting our girls in Central Park!  For me, it was like the last line in that marvelous tale by the great Danish storyteller:  “I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the Ugly Duckling!”