|"A Painter and Her Blank Canvas" Photograph by Stefan van Drake (2011)|
'Are painters afraid of a blank canvas?' I once asked on LinkedIn.
When I arrived Budapest on 17 June I was a blank canvas, I wrote two days before leaving, preparing my final blog post written from Hungary.
I saw myself the blank canvas, they (my new friends and colleagues) the pigments, structure, broken colors, brush strokes, composition, impressions, and ultimately, a finished picture of whom I had become after five weeks in Budapest and Szentendre.
On the morning before I flew out of Hungarian air space, there she was with her medium-to-large-format blank and pre-stretched canvas on Tram 6.
She had somehow squeezed on. People make special dispensation for painters and poets in Hungary, a tradition.
We both got off across from Starbucks on Andrasa ut., a main artery of Budapest in District 7 and not far from my Hotel Queen Mary.
As she departed the tram, her blank canvas gripped under her right arm, she looked like a floating rectangle of glistening white.
She was petite, young looking older or older looking younger. I could see only her head and feet above and below the canvas and she walked as one.
I pulled my camera from my canvas bag.
I ended up with this series of four images: "A Painter and Her Blank Canvas."
|"A Painter and Her Blank Canvas II" Photograph by Stefan van Drake (2011)|
|"A Painter and Her Blank Canvas III" Photograph by Stefan van Drake (2011)|
|"A Painter and Her Blank Canvas IV" Photograph by Stefan van Drake (2011)|
|"Spanish life stilled," photograph by Stefan van Drake (2009)|