Alla Prima
From "Sunshine/Noir III: Writing from San Diego and Tijuana" (City Works Press, 2025)
by Hector Martinez
First the background, then the hair-- I work the brush across the canvas towards the features of his face, but the model won’t sit still. He’s 14 now and impatient, his mind full of guitar strings and girls, the power chords of budding love, and the ache of his own muscles as he bench presses away his extra energy. He’s so far removed from the barefoot toddler in stretchy pajamas that I could scoop up in one arm and carry to the bagel shop on Lake Murray Blvd, on a Sunday morning, the sunshine gleaming off his auburn hair, “bagels baby, bagels baby,” we would giggle, his warm sleepy head curving on my shoulder as we waited in line. Today, he’s a restless model with his own dreams that burst into the stillness like the varied songs of birds, too diverse for me to recognize. “Was that a sparrow, was that a thrasher, is that a mocking bird?” And through the questioning and contradictions, the voices that sometimes raise in frustration or teenage exasperation, I move my nervous hand towards the canvas, “yes” to this, “no” to that, “maybe,” “let’s see,” “let’s talk to mom,” quite aware of my insecurity, like a skittish horse without a rider, descending a trail for the first time. I realize I have no innate talent or guidance from a divine hand, only that I must continue painting, taking advantage of every moment he’s willing to sit still, my palette of paint always at the ready. There are no do overs in this, no linseed oil or Tonking your way out of this. This is it. My best and only shot, however imperfect, at a masterpiece of flesh and bone.
Hector Martinez’s work has appeared in Zyzzyva, Puerto Del Sol, Quarterly West and Sunshine/Noir (San Diego City Works Press). He currently teaches English and Chicano Studies at San Diego City College.
To buy Sunshine/Noir III: Writing from San Diego and Tijuana, go here or go to The Book Catapult.