"I Asked If She Could Pose For Me..."

Sketches from a three hour flight to LAX...

Some in-flight sketches on the way to Los Angeles.   I love flying especially at the window seat, but when the person sitting next to you buries their head into a large book, it is time for me to shut up pull out the pen and sketchbook.

I'm a visual person... I can take a hint, ha!

I never did capture, to my liking, the exotic face of our stewardess. I eventually asked her if she could pose for me because she never stopped. Of course, she could not! The other stewardess I captured pretty well. She stood still for about five minutes talking in the first class kitchen.

The pic of a woman pulling at her hair was from an in-flight movie starring an aged Sally Field, and the woman with the rather large chapeaux was from an in-flight magazine.

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Swattin' Flies!"

Only at Gus's...

About a week ago, Jenn, one of the local curmudgeons sat down at our table at Gus's Restaurant in Folsom, LA. "Our table" is one of three long twelve foot table that seats comfortably, about ten patrons. That table serves the earlier morning cowboys, plowboys, and handymen that come to eat before attending to their respective jobs. They leave normally around eight in the morning and then, our group comes in to take over, order and eat breakfast and generally talk about old New Orleans, politics, ( how Obama is ruining the country ), horses, growing vegetables and surviving retirement!

Jenn is originally from the Netherlands and can tell you some stories about the Nazi's siege on Rotterdam. When I sit alone with her, she opens up about her younger days in Europe and here in the United States. I always enjoy our, one way, conversations.

**She shows up two or three times a morning for basically a cup of coffee. I've rarely seen her eat anything for breakfast and when someone offers to buy her a muffin or two, she says that she's already eaten earlier that morning. But when she arrives at our table, all conversation stops, and if she asks you a question, you have to yell to allow her to hear your answer. Next thing you know, everyone there eating breakfast is in on the conversation.

And if she is pissed, many an ear will be bruised, young and old alike!

"That sorry ass bastard refuses to buy a paper!"That's one cheap sonofabitch, I tell you!

Right away, we know who she is talking about! Paula, who is another consummate horse person sitting across from me, smiles. Her husband, Larry, feigns deafness and says to Jenn, "Eh?"

Naturally, she turns to Larry and repeats her comment almost word for word. Then, looks at Tracy and says..."You know what that "effin mutherfu&@??cker" did to me this morning?"

"No Jenn, what happened?" we all asked, trying not to egg on her "filthy interpretation of the owner."

"I'm reading the newspaper, that effin over priced piece of shit" that I paid for, looking at the race results and he comes over to me with that damn flyswatter!"

"Swatting flies!" she says with all the venom she could muster!.

Gus's restaurant is the only place I know that, in the summer, the owner blatantly comes out in his apron and takes out a half dozen or so.

But Gus and Jenn go way back to the beginning of the restaurant, and he always takes good care of her needs. Everyone at Gus's that knows her, looks out for her. She has to be pushing eighty and is the penultimate horse lady. Everything she does is for the horses she tends to.

"Jenn ain't got a pot to piss in," I once heard someone say. Still, Gus likes to give her a hard time.

"I told him, "Get 'da fu&@?ck out of my face with that thing!"

"I know... I know what that mutherfu&@??cker is trying to tell me!"

"Dem flies ain't nowhere to be found, till that sonofabitch comes around.

"Sonofabitch," she mubbles as she gets up from the table to pour herself another cup!

"No good, son-of-a-bitch!"

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

** More about Jenn at: http://graphicgumbo3.blogspot.com/2011/04/until-now.html

Scotty Sproles, Scott Sproles, Scott "Shadow" Sproles... I Remember Now!

Charting Our Coarse...mentally!

The other day I noticed a name in Linkedin that sure sounded familiar. It's funny how the brain works... Or doesn't!

So, I followed up on this Scott Sproles's profile and found him as someone I should know from Barksdale, AFB in Shreveport, Louisiana. But, I still couldn't place him until I copied his email address and opened up to him as the idiot who could not figure out our relationship... even when I knew our contact was with the B-52 at Barksdale. In the email, I sent him a photo of the work I completed at the end of our tour and congratulated him on his recent promotion. I don't believe he ever saw the original painting.

Quite a few years back, six illustrators from around the country were sent to the airbase for a week tour learning about the aging B-52's role in the new command entitled, The Global Strike Force Command. It was to be replacing the Strategic Air Command (SAC) and it's headquarters were, at that time, in Barksdale. Me and two other illustrators from the Air Force Art Program were trained to fly with a crew of five on a five hour flight for a mock up bombing run and refueling mission.

http://graphicgumbo3.blogspot.com/2010/09/global-strike-command-final-finally.html

Scott returned my congratulatory email stating,"We indeed met through the Air Force Art Program at Barksdale and we took you and another artist on a B-52 flight across Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Arkansas, and Louisiana. It was a night flight and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you all and sharing our experiences with ambassadors such as yourself."

But, it wasn't until I ran across a blog that mentioned the names of the crew and there code names that everything fell neatly into place. Scotty Sproles's code name was, I suspect, for this flight, called "Shadow." Every one had a secret code name, even we three artists on the flight, but I don't believe we ever given an explanation for Scott's secret moniker.

Anyway, I searched through my sketchbooks to see if I could retrieve any drawings I knew I had done of him and the rest of the crew. I actually found two incomplete pieces. So, I decided to finish the two that were worth saving. One was from a meeting about our mission and the flight plans, and one from an underexposed photo a fellow artist took of Scotty in his "inner sanctum."

Here's the completed second sketch...

Although I sent other members of the crew, sketches from the mission, and because I never finished these of Scott, I never sent them to him.

So, Scott consider these pieces a keepsake of sorts and my way of saying, "Congrats!"...

... and thank you for your service!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III

"Keeping It Simple Sketch"

The quick sketch for approval...

The final sketch...

A rough and finish sketch ready for coloring for a presentation to an aircraft brokerage firm. The client, a middleman entrepreneur, thought I could do this three inch by three inch inset and still capture the owner's face. This was a solution we agreed to when I told him he could not afford for me to animate this illustration to fly around the website and in the Power Point presentation.

He didn't understand why it couldn't be accomplished until I told him the cost of producing it...

Clients!

Copyright2016/Ben Bensen III

"Sketches From A Doctor's Appointment... No. 1"

Grumpy?

I must admit, I don't like the tons of forms one has to fill out every time one has to see a new doctor. Four or five patients waiting their turn to see the dermatologist could hear my grumbling and see the aggravation written all over my face. I just don't see any reason to have to fill out six full sheets with every one of them requiring one's name, address, cell phone, home phone, email address and your waist size!

Okay, just kiddin' bout one's waist size!

A rather composed lady mentioned being able to fill the forms out online. ( I've always had problems filling out forms online, especially after completing the form, having to find a way to sign and date it, long hand! ) Being five minutes late, I expected to wait my turn patiently, but 25 minutes later, I figured I'd better make the best use of my time, so I started sketching, as incognito as possible, the other patient patients. Everyone was messing with their iPhones and I, with my "At A Glance" pad.

One, rather severe looking woman with closely cropped hair and a blouse that didn't do much for her state of being, was, like me, bitching about all the forms she had to fill out. I thought to myself, do I look that bad whenever I'm complaining about something?

Whoa...

She then blurts out, "I hate all this politically correct crap... African Americans and Hispanics!"
"Orientals too," she grumps. "I'm sick and tired of this crap" Whites are the last race on this list!"

"Alphabetical order", is all the composed lady that mentioned to me about the online forms, said.

"It is put in alphabetical order, ma'am."

"Hrump!" is all that the woman could muster, but with a "looks could kill" stare.

When it was my turn to see the doctor, I entered the room and put down my "iPad". When I did, the nurse saw the drawing of this rather racist woman and asked if I was an artist.

When I answered in the affirmative, the nurse said,"Man, you really captured her perfectly!"

And my response was, "I'm just glad that she didn't asked to see it!"

Copyright 2016/Ben Bensen III

"She Did Have That Marie LaVeau Look About Herself!"

Voodoo priestess?

"Ooooo- wee, child, is 'dat your Evangeline?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied as I turned my head around to see who was complimenting me in such a thick Cajun accent.

All week long, tour buses would bring people to view the downtown St. Martinville scene. Folks from Ohio, Minnesota, Texas, Illinois, mostly folks trying to thaw out from up north. And, naturally, quite a few from France to check the Creole and Cajun historical sight.

But this woman, with a long full colorful skirt, complete with jangling jewelry and a leopard print headband, looked straight out of central casting for a voodoo queen, or priestess.

"You did 'dat?" You doing my lady, fine, fine... Ooooo-wee! Lordy, lordy!"

"Well thanks, ma'am... it's starting to come around," I said.

"Where you fum?" she asked. 

"Originally, I am from New Orleans, but I live now in a small town called Folsom."

"Ooooo, Lord." New Orleans is bad!" 

"Not the good bad. I'm talkin' bout the bad bad," she said nodding her head down as if to be praying for all New Orleanians.

"Too much killing down 'dere, child... too much!"

“’Dats why you moved?”

“Aw, New Orleans is not that bad. You just have to have some common sense, ya know?”

“I live in Folsom for many different reasons,” I replied.

“Well, she said, clutching a little tighter her huge satchel like purse and slowly moving toward the front of the church,”I gotsta go visit ‘da Lord!”

After a few steps, she then turns back around to tell me her name and to ask me for mine. Her name is Aida, and says, proudly that she’s from St. Martinsville and has lived there all her life. We banter back and forth for a few minutes about saving the world with prayer, living in St. Martinsville all her life, and my living in California. As she kinda threw her head back separating her dark dreadlocks, which were rather dark for being well into her sixties, she talked a bit about her being black, but Creole.

“Hey, I understand where ya comin’ from, lady. I spent a couple years here in Cajun land. It’s a beautiful thing!”

Even if I thought differently, I wasn’t gonna take no chances. She did have a Marie LaVeau look about herself. Best to not mess with no voodoo, ya know?

“I come everyday to pray and visit my Evangeline… she’s a saint, Mister Ben. Did you know?”

“Well, no ma’am, I didn’t know that, but the story is a very special one, I know!”

“You fum where?” Where you be staying?

“Folsom, LA”, Aida, I repeated quite impatiently. 

“Dat’s a long ways to be painting my Evangeline!” she once again, replies.

“You doing her good.” she, grammatically, but hilariously, announced.

Pointing to the sign that officially advertises my involvement as one of the thirty or so artists at the Shadows, I say, “I’m participating in a contest at the Shadows-On-The-Teche museum in New Iberia.”

“NEW IBERIA?” 

“Lord, lord”, I better git,” she moans, jingling all the shiny silver, plastic and assorted bracelets around her wrists…” I best be praying for you too,” she said.

Thinking to myself how awfully nice it was of her to pray for my good luck, she mumbles as she turns away flailing her arms, 

“Ooooo- weeee, New Iberia!”

“Dat’s no place to be, child. Another dangerous place, fo’ sho!”

"Gator Got Yo' Granny" ...

"Chomp, chomp... Gator sketch by Ben Bensen III

Good "Gator Got Yo' Granny" Saturday, y'all.

I arrived early at Fontainebleau State Park yesterday, for a change, and decided to scope out an interesting bayou scene to paint. Mary Monk, Carol Hallock and Laura Fischer Saxon were to join me on a rather wind swept afternoon at the lake.

I found this trail through the reeds paralelling the lake that lead me to an interesting little cove protected from the wind and perfect for a plein air extravaganza. As approached closer to the waterline, a blue heron gracefully headed for the skies. A few steps closer and then there was this big explosion of water and reeds. Apparently, I had startled this five or six foot gator that was no more than a "first and ten" away. 

I didn't take the time to see if it was gonna chase me, but I did freeze momentarily enough to see "what big teeth Grandma had."

I didn't look back until I was back on the sandy beach. I found me a park ranger to explain to him the size of that dinosaur as he nonchalantly explained why the reptiles were not hibernating. I was huffing and puffing so I didn't completely hear him say something about the spillway opening up fresh water into the lake...

"Yeh, I said between adrenalin gasps of air, "that makes sense, but I thought it was still too cold for them to be out and about!"

"Nah," he said. They're as confused with this weather as much as we are!"

"Oh okay, I guess so," I replied.

As I walked away down the sandy beach, I turned back toward the reeds and thought to myself, "yeh, but what'cha gonna do about that monster back there sitting in that cove!"

First cup of "glad to be alive" coffee!

Copyright 2016/ Ben Bensen III