As transcribed by the nurses at the St. Francis hospital as I wandered in and out of a frost bite coma:
Mike: This is the place, Suzi. Like I said – the tracks actually cross.
Suzi: This is great. It’s exactly what I pictured in my mind. Let’s get out there and get started.
What are you doing?
Mike: I’m grabbing my camera.
Suzi: Oh, no. I’m not going for some portrait done from a photograph.
Mike: You mean you want to pose out in this blizzard while I paint this scene from life?
Suzi: I’ve seen your portraits done from photographs and frankly, they just didn’t make it for me, it’s just so much fluff:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y3kTYCLSgsg
Mike: But you’re a bio nuclear chemist with a minor in acrylics. I’ve been a semi-professional portrait artist for ... a lot of years.
Suzi: I’m sorry, Mike, it’s just not my kind of art.
Mike: I have other stuff, you’ve seen my closet.
OK, I said, I'll try.
At first my brush flew across the canvas; my edges were varied, my impasto’s were beautiful frozen peaks. I was so cold – I wanted to quit, but Suzi, she held her pose steadfastly, one foot on the tracks as she wailed out: “Long Train Running” on that 12 string Fender:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gSedE5sU3uc
How could I quit in the face of this?
Slowly, no, quickly, my fingers became numb and I began to drop my brushs in the snow. I cried out: I can’t do this! I’m not good enough!
In shame I grabbed my portable photo taker from my back pocket and I snatched this image of Suzi as she walked away – down the tracks and out of my life forever.
That was last Christmas day. In May I left the hospital with most of the feeling back in my toes and fingers. Recently I authored this fleeting image of Suzi. She wanted to call it “Crossroads.” It certainly was that.
Suzi, 16x24, oil on linen