Wyatt LeGrand: June 2019

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Party for Bloomfield

July 8th-12th, I'll be painting in and around the town of Bloomfield. At the end of the week, I will host an event at Bloomfield High School's Glover Gymnasium to share the 50+ paintings I create in the days prior. It'll be a town gathering to celebrate the landmarks and landscapes of Bloomfield. I hope you all can make it.

In addition to the wet paintings I'll be showcasing, I'll have a large group of unframed Bloomfield paintings and limited edition prints available. And...hors d'oeuvres!

Saturday, July 13th, 5-8pm @ Glover Gymnasium

Stay tuned and see you soon.

Monday, June 17, 2019

My Life in a Nutshell

This afternoon, I decided to have a snack. To satisfy my hunger and/or boredom, I chose a summertime pantry staple—pistachios. I planned to take a handful outdoors to enjoy from my favorite chair. I would place the mess of pistachios in my lap, contained by a fold of my shirt, and throw the shells over my shoulder after tediously removing and devouring the fruit within. I was proud of my plan and content as I opened the bag of nuts.

I grabbed a large handful. It was an extra large handful for most anyone else. I cradled at least three dozen naturally packaged morsels with my big right paw as I carefully sealed the bag and placed it back on the shelf with my left. I grabbed a cocktail I'd mixed earlier and slowly moved towards the door, both arms cautiously tucked against my body. With an awkward hip and forearm pirouette maneuver, I twice opened the doors that would lead me to the backyard, revealing a paved pathway culminating at my favorite place to sit and watch the birds swoop while the cars whiz by. This isn't my first rodeo.

I was moving at a brisker pace in the wide open with nuts in hand. I took a sip of my drink as I closed in on my destination. With only two large steps and a squatting one-eighty separating me from the not-so-lofty goal I'd set sixty seconds prior, it all went to hell. I stubbed my toe and dropped a nut.

A lone pistachio lie next to my scraped hallux. I cursed. I could have left the pistachio on the pavement. After all, it was only a pistachio and I had at least thirty more in my grasp. But I couldn't refrain. I knelt down, strenuously balancing my large body while slowly extending a hand full of nuts, my left preoccupied with an old-fashioned glass. I reorganized the distribution of my right hand's contents so I could free my thumb as much as possible. I turned my hand slightly, rotating my arm from the elbow to make for a clean grab. With a quick jab at the pavement, I began to pinch the pistachio in tow with its congregation. Then, all of a sudden and with no surprise to me, two more nuts freed themselves from the bunch. I had immediately lost twice what I had gained. But in an instant, without a second thought, I repeated this clumsy process to a greater, more irritating result. Four pistachios lie before me now. My thighs are burning in this precarious pose. My toe has begun to bleed. My drink is sweating.

I am defeated. Nevertheless, for my amusement alone, I give it another go. I'm like a child at the video arcade, standing at the claw machine with one last quarter. I drop it in the slot and hit the blinking button. Perspiration is beginning to work in my favor. My sticky palm lets me grab one, then another, and then the third. I deliberate about the fourth. I should leave it...so I attempt to grab it. Mind you, at this point, I've become very acquainted with the organization of nuts in my hand. I had locked down most of the morsels, but the first rogue nut, the instigator, barely clinging to my curled thumb, made a second escape. It may have happened in slow motion. It's taken me three failed attempts to get right back to where I started, only more frustrated. I refuse to drop one nut three times, so I concede. I wobble as I return upright and stumble to my favorite chair. My toe trickles as I sip. I put the pistachios in the fold of my shirt. I sit my glass on the arm of my chair. I begin cracking shells and throwing them over my shoulder and behind me. The wind blows most of them back. A few minutes pass and I forget all about my minor misfortunes. Life is good again, but I forgot my sunglasses.

About twenty minutes later, I get tired of squinting. I slowly raise myself to standing. There is a collection of pistachio shells at my feet. I use my bloody foot to brush them off the sidewalk. After three broad strokes, only one shell remains from the mess. It's unopened. It's the rogue nut. I bend over and pick it up. This time, I don't fumble. I trace my steps back to the house with an empty glass in my left hand and just one nut in the other. I pass through the same two doors, minus the spin moves. I waddle to the sink and place my glass inside. I wet a paper towel and clean my toe. I open some envelopes on the table. I turn on the television and then turn it off. I pick up a coffee table book and admire the pictures. I look out the window and decide to return outside. I water the flowers and close the garage door. I walk the pathway a third time, carefully minding my steps and toe. I sit down in my favorite chair again, this time, without incident. I feel something nesting in my palm...

I've been carrying around the world's most stubborn nut for twenty minutes. It's just a pistachio, but moments ago, when nearly all was was right in the world, it was the one thing I couldn't quite grasp. Now, with a bloody toe and nothing left to lose, I realize it's the only thing I'm holding onto.

I admired the pistachio for a moment before deciding to crack it open. Justice served, efforts validated, redemption realized. And when the time came, and I pressed that little nut between my fingers, nothing happened.