“Ol' George”
© 2019, 22” by 12.5”, Watercolours

My wife and I moved our family to the shores of Chemong Lake a few years back on the edge of a tiny bay on the north-east end of the lake not far from the intersection on Buckhorn Road that is Selwyn, Ontario. I had hoped that the environment would provide for plenty of experiences with nature that might inspire paintings (and it certainly has) but what I wasn’t expecting was that it would also provide the inspiration for a painting in the form of old machinery, in this case a derelict Volkswagen microbus that has been slowly sinking into the ground over the last few decades.

According to my neighbours, in the 70s and 80s, the property belonged to a man known simply as “Old George.” He and his wheelchair-bound wife would come up from Toronto every weekend and spend the nights in the little bus. During the days, she would tend to the beautiful gardens (that included lots of grapes apparently) while he would sharpen his scythe and keep the trees, reeds, and weeds under control all along the southern end of the bay close to the swamp. I’m also told that they dined frequently on turtle soup, sourced locally of course.

They’re both long gone, and the new owners haven’t spent much time there at all having done little more than put up a “No Trespassing” sign that itself is showing its age. I was struck by the romantic aspect of the stalwart microbus rusting away on a once immaculate property now well and truly overgrown. There seemed to be contradiction here for me: the juxtaposition of a vehicle that personified the free-wheeling, anything-goes attitude of a bygone era with a sign rudely and firmly imposing limitations.

I’ve taken a bunch of pictures of the microbus over the last few years with the goal of eventually painting it. Finally, in the spring of 2019, I got some pics where the light was at just the right angle and intensity. The light made the windows seen through the front of bus just glow, almost like the vehicle was full of water. 

It was a lot of fun painting the microbus, but not a painting session went by when I wasn’t secretly fantasizing about rescuing “Ol’ George” and restoring him to his former glory.