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| I pitched my easel one sunny day across the street from an upholstery shop. There was very little foot traffic on this corner, but I knew I could trust God to send someone by. Before I had time to begin painting, the owner from the shop came over to check me out. I introduced myself to him and explained that I had painted many sites in the neighborhood and asked if he would mind if I painted his shop. His left eyebrow wet up as if to say “What are you really up to bro?” So I pulled out my little portfolio and let him look through it while I quickly went to work. He hung around and watched me paint. As he became more comfortable with me, we began to talk about different things that interested him. Finally, I saw an opportunity to pop the big question, “Are you saved?” I asked him. He said that he was. We talked about the Lord for a while, then I went back to my painting. By now, we were chatty. He was rather excited about seeing his shop being captured on ‘canvas’, so he offered to put his blue roadster out from behind the shop so that I could include it in the painting. I had seen the car parked there many times and would have loved to have painted it, but I had gone too far in the painting to put it in, so I told him that I would have to do that on another day. After he had spent 15 or 20 minutes with me, he said that he had to go back to work, but insisted that I come to his shop when I finished, and he would sing for me. I said that I would do that. Little did I know, but I was in for a real treat. I walked into his up upholstery shop where a man was working at a long table upon which was a partially upholstered chair with claw feet. My eyes traveled the length of the table. Across from the end of the table, stacked on shelves under a canvas awning was enough electronics to be a mini recording studio. My newfound friend sat on a bar stool shuffling through CD’s. “Have a seat,” he said pointing to a similar, but more modest stool. He popped a disk in a CD player, cranked up the volume and closed his eyes. I looked at his long, sweeping sideburns and doo-wap hair and thought, “Except for the glasses, one might think that he was an Elvis impersonator.” From high up in the dusty rafters where two huge speakers hung came a tune I hadn’t heard in years. Gradually the voice of Elvis melted into the melody and stirred up in me memories of high school days as he crooned, “but I can’t help falling in love with you.” I looked over to my new acquaintance, whose name was Joseph. He was caressing a microphone and moving his mouth in sink with Elvis. I thought, “This joker brought me over here to watch him float in his fantasy of singing like Elvis. Then I leaned slightly forward and listened closely. The voice that soared above the music track was Joseph's. For the next half hour, I was treated to one of the best performances I had heard in a long while. When he finished his finale, I applauded him for the concert and asked how I could hear more. He answered, “Come again with your paints and I will sing for you while you paint me.” I replied, “You've got a deal.” I went back a few days later. While I painted, Joseph resurrected the voices of Frank Sinatra, Tony Orlando and of course, Elvis. |
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All images and text © Keni Arts — |
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