The Linguini Supper

Last summer, when Joyce first asked me if I would like to come to the annual linguini supper for the members of the Wednesday night drawing group, I accepted. Another artist in the group explained that it would be a thoroughly enjoyable occasion--we'd start out at 3 PM drawing or painting from the model who (weather permitting) would pose in Joyce's garden for a few hours. Then Joyce would serve the linguini supper al fresco. It sounded like a great idea--anything involving drawing and pasta had to be a good time.

I took the afternoon off from work and made my way to Joyce's farm. I decided to work on a smaller scale and brought my traveling watercolor set. The garden was a lovely spot and the model was excellent. Soon, I was lost in the concentration needed to work in an unfamliar medium. By the time the model was ready to quit, I had finished a nice little watercolor.

I wasn't really prepared for what awaited us at the foot of the hill by the house--you can see from the photo that Joyce set an elegant table. By the time we had sipped away a glass of wine or two, consumed a variety of cheeses and homemade capponata and rounds of crusty Italian bread, the sun had gone down, the candles were lit and the scene became pure magic. More artists arrived who hadn't been able to make the drawing session--I knew most of them or knew of them. Many I hadn't seen in many years. We all had one thing in common--at one time or another we had been part of the Wednesday night group.

Soon, Joyce and other artists who had helped her in the kitchen brought out large, steaming bowls of linguini and incredible seafood including shrimp, lobster, littlenecks and other fruits of the sea. Calling this the linguini supper was an understatement. Topped off with salad and cooked greens fresh from the garden and a generous helping of conversation about art--theory, criticism, news and plain old gossip--I thought I'd died and went to heaven.

That was last year. It was a magical night. This year's supper was two nights ago and was equally enjoyable. I saw some old friends and made some new ones. And I had some better water color brushes on hand now that I'm working in egg tempera.

The linguini supper comes very close to the visions that I had before I went to art school of what life as an artist would be like. Visions straight out of Hollywood laced with the angst of Anthony Quinn or Kirk Douglas--visions of a lifestyle that was never realized because they weren't based on reality.

If I can have one or two nights like the linguini supper in a year, I can sustain the solitary hours in the studio needed to produce meaningful work. I raise my glass and my brush to Joyce--an artist in all she does--for providing this night.