The huge blank wall next to the low-wall mural in the 700 block of Christian Street of 59 colorful self-portraits by neighborhood kids and adults;

Diane Keller getting the commission from the Mural Arts Program to do the mural;

Me having to be involved in the project somehow, I figured, since it was our neighborhood parking lot;

My desire to learn the grand scale technique of mural painting from start to finish;

The chance to apprentice with someone whose work and life affected me.

So I called her on the phone. I think I even used the seemingly archaic words of mentor, apprentice and respect when I told her how she had come to mind.

The risk of asking was worth taking. We began painting a few weeks later. But my learning started immediately. Eager to be involved. I volunteered to help the crew put up the scaffolding one afternoon when I noticed they were shorthanded.

Later I found myself polling a few of the Italian boxer/gym guys about my swelling thumb, on which a 10-foot plank had fallen. "Ice, wrap and splint it, or you could go to the emergency ward and they'd ice, wrap and splint it," was the advice. "Broken or jammed, it's in place. It just needs time to heal. Fingers in too many pots. I busted my thumb. It was a hard but good lesson. Slow down, listen, take it all in, one step at a time.

And so the steps soon began: Scaffold up/patch and prime wall/grid level horizontal and vertical "snap" chalk lines/every square inch on the design equals a square foot on the wall/paint over chalk lines/along side and bottom for easy reference/draw design on wall to scale/block in colors/work and rework details/work and rework specifics/work and rework a little more here and there/varnish. Finished

Oh, but I've left out so many details. You want to know how long it takes. It depends. You want to know of the wear and tear it'll bear, as perhaps I've sounded too cavalier. It Varies.

I want to tell you more of the subtext, the "underpainting," what the public doesn't see. Scraping buckets, mixing paint, schlepping up and down the high-wire, keep-your-wits-about-you heights. How I once dropped a bucket from the fourth level and it splattered not-as-bad-as-it-could-have-been.

How patient we have to be with each other sometimes, when we're hot and tired, cold and flustered. The on-call reality of bad weather: meeting at dawn because it might start raining later in the day, and we're running out of time. Deadline. The patron. The comments of passersby (most often wonderful, but an occasional "hurry up, already"), the how of color. tone, mixing, using what brush, what kind of stroke for good surface qualify, good detail, a fine line, edge of brush, excess of paint to push, not too much, smooth here, but textured there. "You do this," "I'll do that," "You watch me here," "I'll show you how here," and of course there's always chocolate and coffee Involved each day. And always clean up. Oh, those glorious brushes and the attention we give them!

So, three murals later Landscape in Moonlight (700 block of Christian Street), Mario Lanza (Broad and Reed Streets), Warner's Way (21st Street between Market and Arch) and numerous learnings throughout (did I even write of the subtle lessons of precision, dedication, timing, integrity and humor?) I have, you can be certain, also applied another important truth: Really do now what you're doing.

Now it's winter, cold, be-inside time. Some are painting murals inside. This is my own studio time: morning coffee, walk, park, weave, books, paint, weave, paint. Spring is soon enough for outdoor work. All thanks, love and respect to those powerhouse, awesome few.