Showing posts with label Painting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Painting. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

The end is in sight.....................


The countdown toward completion for the Old School project has started in earnest.  We are on schedule to have our "life-safety" inspection in less than a month.  Passing said inspection does not mean we are totally finished, but it will enable us to have some tenants move in.  There still is much to do, but at this point I am certain that the light at the end of the tunnel is not an on-coming train.  One sign we are getting close:  painting the lockers.

Lockers?, you ask.   It is an old school, you know

Each apartment will have sole access to 6-8 lockers

A good place for winter coats in the summertime

They started out pretty beat up, but a little TLC and paint does wonders

No one else was allowed on the third floor when the lockers were being
painted.  Truthfully, no one wanted to up there for about 24 hours.  Breathing
apparatuses were necessary.  

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Artistry...............................


.......................or, painting pictures with words:

      She was cool, superior, and slightly snotty.  A male friend, if she had time for one, would have a hard body, a great tan, a gold chain, a two-seater Mercedes-Benz, and no sense of humor.  A commoner had little chance of peeling off her shorts.  Should it happen, she'd do it purely for the experience, like shopping at Kmart or sniffing glue.
     She knew what I was thinking, of course.  And she knew she was reaching me, with her information, money, and long athletic legs.  All management tools, properly deployed, well under control.  It was mildly irritating.
     Letting it percolate for a moment, I looked down at the battered, grass-green fiberglass hull of my boat, the brilliant white D'Arches paper, the black handles of the watercolor brushes.  It was all I really wanted to do;  I didn't want to fool with some rich guy's computers.   But a bigger boat would be nice, and money would buy more time to paint.  And New Orleans is a pleasurable place.
      "It sounds illegal," I said after a while.

-John Sandford, as excerpted from The Fool's Run