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Are you bored?

I canā€™t tell you the last time I was bored.

Sometimes it rains, by Carol L. Douglas, oil on canvasboard, available through Ocean Park Association.

Bobbi Heathblogged about boredomearlier this week. I didnā€™t read it until this morning because Iā€™ve been so busy. Apparently, boredom is a big problem for people stuck at home during the pandemic. I have certainly noticed a lassitude among some of my friends that could be a symptom of either boredom or depression from the long isolation.

Personally, I donā€™t understand boredom. In part, this is protective. As kids, if we whined ā€œIā€™m bored!ā€ our mother would just give us more chores. Thatā€™s a parenting technique I grew to admire, and Iā€™ve passed it on to my children.

Channel Marker, oil on canvasboard, by Carol L. Douglas, available.

Mainers have perfected the art of making hay while the sun shinesā€”working like banshees for 120 days a year so that the larder is full for the winter. Plein air painters do a variation on the same dance, of course. This year has set that on its head, as Iā€™m reminded when I see our beautiful old wooden schooners in their winter coverings in August.

However, Iā€™m working harder than ever. I believe in the Sabbathā€”rest is a gift, after all. But it gets harder and harder to find the time as I dive deeper into this busy season.

Iā€™m writing this in Yarmouth, where Iā€™m staying for Cape Elizabeth Land Trustā€™s Paint for Preservation. This ought to be the easiest of events, because we have three days to do one painting, but they want us to paint big.

Fog Bank, oil on linen, by Carol L. Douglas. This is one of those paintings that I didn’t know what to make of when I did it, but that’s growing on me.

On Wednesday I wrotethat I was debating whether to bring the oil-primed 48X48 canvas I built for this event. The winds only got worse, and when I attempted to lift the canvas onto my roof rack, it slammed back down to earth. On the way down, it put a nasty scratch in the rear panel of the car, reminding me of Jane Chapin mangling the side of her pickup and insisting ā€œthatā€™ll buff out.ā€

It did buff out, more or less, but it was a sign that I shouldnā€™t try to paint that large in unsettled weather. Bobbi ran to Artist & Craftsman in Portland and got me a 40X40. Iā€™m now carrying that, a 40X30, and three ā€˜smallerā€™ canvases.

They wrest their living from the sea, oil on canvasboard, by Carol L. Douglas. Available.

I told this to Ken DeWaard, whoā€™s also in this event. He called me crazy, and then told me heā€™s packed a 30X40 and several smaller canvases in his car. He drives a Honda Fitā€”and heā€™s 6ā€™5ā€.

Why do we bring so many canvases? We can guess, but we canā€™t predict what the best size and shape will be for the scene that presents itself. Even when we know the location (and I donā€™t, this year), the light and atmospherics are constantly changing.

Iā€™d intended to take Wednesday off, but all that packing and planning ran right through my day of rest. That doesnā€™t include the work I never got to, like writing my Zoom lessons for next week. Listening to someone elseā€™s to-do list is boring, I know, but Iā€™m just demonstrating why Iā€™m never bored.

Bobbiā€™s husband took exception to the idea that one could go through life never getting bored. ā€œWhat about boring tasks?ā€ he asked. We all have them, of course, but these days we just listen to music or a podcast. And I have a secret weapon: a sketchbook I deploy in meetings or anywhere else Iā€™m expected to sit quietly for long periods.