Why Was It So Much Easier to Paint in Granada.

I felt more alive in general, bounding out of bed, and eventually, into a rhythm of painting every morning before the heat of the day really got serious. And the camaraderie, even without a shared language in many cases, was almost a given. Camaraderie, or was I just a spectacle…? In any case, inevitably there would be a whole crowd around my easel, around and behind me, discussing what I was doing, discussing discussing. Sure wish I could have understood what they were saying!

Here I am set up across the street from our hostal, Hospedaje San Jorge, on the southern edge of the street market (mercado).

This one is unfinished, from the porch of our hostal. Can’t wait to get back to work on the paintings I brought home. Twelve of them. What am I waiting for.