"Dear ENTHUSIASTIC, loaded down with determination and your cube cart full of gear, "Plein Air painter guy": I know I am only a simple figure model and cannot possibly understand the wonders of painting the splendor of the great outdoors (the way the dappled lights fall softly through the trees, the masterful, firey hue of the fading sunset, the lush green of the sprawling hills in the distance). And yet, the biggest mystery to me is DO YOU REALLY THINK WEARING THE MOST GROTESQUE ALBATROSS OF A SUN HAT, ILL-FITTING CARGO SHORTS FROM 1937, A BATTERED SKI VEST, AND PLAID KNEE SOCKS WITH YOUR BIRKINSTOCKS will improve the look and feel of the "masterpiece" you set out to create on your epic sojurn."
"Dear, quiet as a church mouse, passive aggressive, hiding behind my super size easel, visor, and apron, "art enthusiast": Please note that it is quite agreeable to say "peep" and ask me kindly to move a limb or keep my eyes open during a workshop. Your tactic of colossal grunting/throat clearing/coughing or brush banging against your canvas will not do the trick. It will only make me wonder if your calling was miscalculated and that rather then attend an art class, your time would be better spent deep in the Ozarks playing a washboard or tub in some Holy Roller Country Bear Jamboree.""Dear, 40ish, "legend in my own mind", narcissistic painter guy: Sure, you've got skills, but unless you extinguish your COLOSSAL ego, I predict the following: At 50, "Peter Pan" will be living with mom, sporting a Grizzly Adams beard, and still be wearing "fashionable" attire that resembles the flag of a 3rd world nation. Your tired cry of "NO ONE UNDERSTANDS!" will be used to seduce Tweens and MILFS at Starbucks and you will be showing your art at the local PTA art fair. Pack your mid life crisis corvette and head back to Never Neverland where you belong!"
