With each new person I paint, the first question is usually “Who is that?” And I can’t blame them for asking. Didn’t I do the same at Jerry’s Jack and Jill grocery store each time my grandma stopped the cart and talked to the person in the aisle. Too old to sit inside, I hung on the front of the cart, and every word exchanged, looking, listening for clues to solve the mystery of who they were. Maybe they would say where they worked, who they were married to, or what they were making for dinner. I could never tell by looking at my grandma. She was nice to everyone. And not that fake kind of nice that I had seen, even experienced on the playground, or that she herself pointed out to me while watching Days of our Lives. She was just genuinely interested. She cared. She was curious. She was indeed the “party” of her party line, whether on the phone or at the grocery store. I could see that it didn’t really matter to her, the details for which I searched. She just wanted to visit. 

I suppose that’s how I paint (minus the grocery cart). I’m just interested in all who appear. It’s a conversation of heart and mind. Grandma Elsie taught me that — that’s who people are — kind and curious and worth the pulling over.