I have gotten used to looking like an idiot while taking my photos a long time ago. So when I go to Fenway and stand in the street framing my reference shots for my paintings, if I am stopping traffic, well…then I am stopping traffic.
I do this alone. Whoever I go with I just say, catch you in a little bit; meet you inside. While I go off and try and frame up the best compositions of the most festive of Boston neighborhoods.
Fenway was beautiful yesterday with the threat of rain that never came. Everyone outside Fenway Park looks so familiar to me. Like it’s the same crowd at every game I have ever gone to. The same crowd that I paint in all my Fenway paintings. These are my peeps and I am here among ” The Nation.”
I listen as Dad after Dad bring there little ones over to the condiments where I am pausing and say “look, this is the mustard, this is the best part.” The air is thick with the smells of hot dogs, sausage and peppers and people are drinking in the streets which I still cannot get used to. I really like what they have done outside here. It was just a few years ago, we were dodging cars on Yawkey Way. Now it’s all festive galore with red everywhere. With as many t-shirts professing their love of the Red Sox as their distaste for the pinstripes.
I move away from the mustard and look for some smokers to stand by and smell the forbidden aroma. Cigarettes, sausage and the announcer’s voice starts from within the hallowed walls, that sound calling me into the game, where the views just improve.
The article is usefull for me. I’ll be coming back to your blog.