Tennis Court Colors
I decided to take a trip over to the middle school I went to today to get capture some scenes to possibly invoke my inner child. It was fun strolling around the premises reminiscing on the days of 7th and 8th grade. Most of the photos I took weren’t really graphically pleasing, being the only subject was my own personal memories. I often caught myself standing still just gazing out into the baseball fields or at the bleachers where our class picture was taken. I can still remember who I was sitting next to and where abouts we were sitting. As I came around the front of the building I remembered the time my Mom surprised me and picked me up in a stretch limo, which as an 8th grader I felt on top of the world. I remembered walking over the bridge that connected the school parking lot to the local park, and every day in the winter standing on the ice to test how strong it was. It was only ever on shallow puddles, but there were times where we would break through and have to walk home with frozen feet and shoe laces sticking out to the side as they had frozen solid (Hey I never said I was smart when I was a kid).
I was very art minded back then, drawing every chance I could get. I remember I would try to sell my drawings to get some extra cash for what was probably video games at that point. I was constantly getting in trouble for drawing in class which resulted in the counselors signing me up for multiple art classes to express my creativeness in a constructive manor. It was also around this time that I started taking notice of texture and appreciating colors. I loved the texture of brick, which I still do, and would take paper and crayon and capture the texture by scribbling on the paper as it was on the brick surface. I also remember with being fascinated by the texture of the tennis court. I would pause briefly and absorb it as I made my way over to the path leading home. I loved the darker colors contrasting all the bright yellows and red on the rest of the campus, and how the cement would break through and bring more character. A year or so after I graduated onto high school they had re-painted the court and I was somewhat disappointed, because everything I had liked about it was suddenly covered.
Now, over 10 years later its back to how I remembered. The colors have been darkened by the fading paint and dirt that has been massaged in by the tennis shoes that use the court on a weekly basis. The pavement has founds its way back through to the surface adding the extra ingredient that texture lovers adore. It brought me back to my days of admiring it as I walked through the court on my way home. It may or may not be as pleasing for you, but what your looking at is literally one of the building blocks for the foundation I build my work on now. I still find it inspiring, now that it has been restored to my original memory of it.