Page 27 of Who's Playing You
“Oh my God, Scottie, this is incredible!” he looked at me and beamed.
“Right? It’s so gorgeous. And I’ll share a secret with you,” I said conspiratorially while he immediately leaned closer to me, as if the woods and squirrels might want to eavesdrop onto my ‘secret’.
“This is a little off the beaten path, so a lot of people actually don't know about this spot. Most people like to go for the glory and go to the overlook where I had initially intended to take ourgroup.” I put “group” in air quotes and grinned at him, as if that were now our inside joke.
He chuckled and I continued, “Or, people hike a bit further up that way,” I said as I pointed over past his shoulder, northward. “That’s the direction of the summit, which is about another two miles up. But truth be told, the view here is just as spectacular.”
“I dig it,” he said as he looked from me to the picture-perfect view that was before us. “This is like something you’d see on a postcard, but better.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his awe.
This is what I’d been missing for so long and why I had started doing the retreats to begin with, to share Nature’s beauty with people who thought it as inspiring as I did. And then to interpret it through our own creations and art.
“I know, right? Take your time, but when you’re ready, come over this way,” I said and pointed to my right. “There’s a little area over here that’s away from this main opening, and there’s a perfect area for us to set up. We can call it our own and even if other hikers come out here, they won’t be bothered by us and we won’t be interrupted too much by them.”
“Lead the way, Scottie. I’ll follow you anywhere,” he replied in earnest.
I giggled - once again - at his response and then led the way.
About half an hour later, Nicholas and I had gotten ourselves settled and taken up camp. My two portable easels were safely secured along with a selection of materials that we had set up. I had even packed extra water and a snack for us.
While we were setting up, I had talked to Nicholas about some fundamentals when it came to drawing and watercolors, respectively. He was like a sponge, just absorbing everything that I said and showed him. I was also trying to better gauge his knowledge and experience so I could better customize the experience and lessons for him.
“Which one do you want?” he asked me, pointing at the easels.
“Oh no, they’re both for you. I can just hold my sketch pad and sit on this boulder here in between me helping you, of course,” I replied and gestured to the rock to my left.
“Uh-uh, no way. We brought both of these up here and I only need one. Besides, I want to see a real true master artist at work! Isn’t it calledplein airpainting or something like that?” I nodded, in surprise at his knowledge.
And to be honest, after talking art with him for the past thirty minutes, Nicholas had surprised me time and again with his vast knowledge of art. He played it off like he wasn’t even a novice, but the more I spoke and he asked questions, the more I realized that he knew way more than he was letting on.
“That’s right,” I grinned at him.
“What? I’m more than just my good looks,” he knocked his shoulder into mine and gave me his full smile, which was so damn beautiful that it almost hurt to look at. How could one person literally be so perfect and beautiful, and he wasniceand funny to boot.
“I’m learning that you are,” I teased him back. “The Hudson Valley actually has quite the connection to- and history that’s intertwined with art.” I stopped myself and waved my hand dismissively in the air. “Sorry, I almost art-geeked out on you.”
“Scottie, don’t do that. Don’t cut yourself short. I would love nothing more than to hear every little thing you have to say. And besides, this is anartsretreat. You’re meant to teach me all facets of drawing and painting and… and paper mache and whatever else, including art history.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “Paper mache?”
“I mean, sure. Unless…” he hesitated. “Are you some sort of art snob that looks down on paper mache? Because my mother still likes to tell anyone who will listen about the incredible paper mache I did in first grade. I even won a ribbon.”
“Oh wow,” I was full-on laughing now. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of an award-winning artist. It’s an honor, sir.”
“Yeah, yeah. That floss didn’t pan out how I anticipated. Anyway… it was stupid. But back to art history.”
I grinned at his self-depricating humor. “Alright, so! One of the most widely known is the Hudson River School of painting.”
“Oh ok. So was that school here in New Hope?”
“Oh, no, so it was actually a movement and not an actual physical school. But it began in the mid-nineteenth century and was basically a bunch of American landscape painters who had a similar style or aesthetic, and their paintings were all influenced by the Romantic Movement. Hence why their focus was also primarily landscapes.”
“I gotcha. Well,” and he swept his hand in a way to showcase our spectacular view, “when this is your inspiration and your blank canvas, I can see why you’d want to paint nothing else but this.”
“Exactly,” I beamed at him.
“What happened to their work? Can we see it? And who were the guys?”
