Commissioned to do a painting of the circle, I asked my friend Ed, a fine art photographer, to come along. Arriving at the circle, we walked around scouting out possible subjects. Since I’ve always been fascinated by the tactics and tension in the game of chess, I was drawn to that segment of the park.
Speed chess players are true combatants, very serious about their matches. Games are fast; in some matches, money changes hands rapidly. Players’ emotions in this “Gentlemen’s War” run high — the sort of thing I like capturing in paint.
Whenever possible, I let my subjects know that I’ll be photographing for an upcoming painting. We walked over to the games in progress and told the players my intentions. We met “The Black Knight,” a player who was proud of his title and was fine with being photographed. Another player was direct and colorful in denying permission to be photographed, clearly linking his wishes to my longevity.
We found a bench opposite the chess tables and watched some excellent and exciting play. One of the matches involved a man in a white shirt (he of the colorful language). His opponent was winning just about every game they played. Watching their game, I understood white shirt’s reasoning for not wanting to be photographed; he was quickly losing a lot, pulling money out of his pants waist every few minutes. I respected his wishes not to be photographed until…
… one of the most colorfully dressed people I’ve ever seen in my life, aside from the Mummers Parade, stepped up to watch. This guy needed to be in the painting. He wore his hair in dreadlocks and his attire was a conglomeration of colors and patterns; a purple and yellow polka dotted shirt with big sleeves and a sash, salmon colored pants, and, what really sold me, saddle shoes broken into areas of red, yellow, and green, the colors of the Ethiopian flag and Rastafarianism.
Because my camera has motorized shutter and auto focus modes, I can shoot a series of pictures without looking, hopefully capturing the image I want. Considering white shirt’s threats, it seemed this was the time to check out these modes rather than risk LIFE and LIMB by openly shooting his match. In less than a minute, I shot white shirt’s match with Rasta man looking on. It was just about as much time as I wanted to spend, considering possible consequences. Mission accomplished, Ed and I decided it would be the better part of valor to leave and go to a bar. Of course, the bar was a Redskins bar and we were EAGLES fans…but that’s another story.
As for the resulting painting, I altered white shirt’s face to preserve his anonymity. My patron was pleased, and I considered the painting so successful that I did a second one. That work is shown above and is available for sale.