Scenic fainting

Next week my son's school will present it's production of The Music Man. My Young Thespian is playing Mayor George Shinn, a particularly juicy part with lines like, "watch yer frazeology!" and "yer better watch it, ya kid ya." He has the grumpy thing down to a T.

His mother, who doesn't know any better, volunteered to head the hair and makeup committee. Stage makeup is my thing, but I was shocked that they put someone like me in charge of the Curling Iron Irregulars. So I took a page out of old Henry Truman's book (always hire people who are smarter than you) and recruited all the moms who are really great at hair. Soon the cavalry rode in brandishing blow dryers. Since I got myself out of that pickle, I walked right into an entire vat of kosher dills. I volunteered to help with set painting, something I have done since high school. You know, back in the Dark Ages.

It started out all right when I volunteered to paint a portrait of Old Miser Madison for the library wall. Oh, sure, it started out looking like the director, who we wanted to tease/honor, but wound up looking like the Scenic Chair's son. I guess I've made up that boy's face for so many years my fingers remember him automatically.

Then came the books in the library. How to make them look 3-dimensional? No problem. I showed the other volunteers my method and they look swell.

That leaves the columns. Oy! We've been working and working on those columns. I have photos and sketches but they're proving to be a bear to paint.

So if anyone has some quick tips for making 3-dimensional columns on rough canvas, I'm all ears. It's the only part I've got available. The rest of me is going to be painting the town, or at least the library, gray.