On my last day at the KITP in Santa Barbara (this visit) last week I decided, for old times’ sake, to go for a walk along the beach, to the pier, while reading two papers I wanted to think about. It seemed preferable to sitting inside at my desk, and it was a lovely day. I took my notebook/sketchbook just in case I wanted to make notes or sketch something interesting. It also seemed important to go along that beach at a proper slow pace since I’ve not been along there for many years, and it holds a lot of memories for me. (It is, for example, the beach I used to visit late at night – through midnight and beyond – regularly, to teach myself to play the trumpet… part of a story I may have shared with you once before.)
Anyway, while wandering along, and just before the pier, I noticed a group of people all sitting together out on the sand. I looked up from my papers to see what they were up to and realized that they were doing exactly what I thought I might do – they were drawing and painting! I stood at a safe distance and looked for a while, and then wandered off to complete my walk to the pier, on to the pier, and along the pier to the end. Upon my return, they were still there, and I noticed a younger person among them, who turned out to be a model some were working on painting. Having finished reading the two papers (and having got suitably excited by them, with project ideas spilling out my ears as a result) I considered rewarding myself by just bringing out my pens and pencils and sketchbook and joining in… but then the model glanced over at me with what seemed to me a hint of a concerned glance, and I suddenly felt like an intruder. No less happy that the people were enjoying themselves with their drawing and painting tasks, and still feeling a sort of kinship with them, I walked on.
-cvj
