West Side Canvas: Where and When the Wisteria?

By Robert Beck

There are many private gardens on the Upper West Side, but this one caught my fancy. It has lovely plants and is a delightful place to hang out, but its big claim is the wisteria. The wisteria started decades ago at a lowly ground level in the courtyard, eventually making its way up to the third-floor apartment deck, where it’s single stem discovered open sky and a master gardener. Now it’s King.

My link was through the Verdi Gardeners, who maintain Verdi Park and whose community spirit demonstrates what’s good about the Upper West Side. They are familiar with my work and have helped connect me to subjects for my Canvas column. If they say something is special, it’s special.

Painting the wisteria was going to be tricky. The bloom lasts just a couple of weeks and would only be at its peak for three or four days, heavily dependent on the weather. Since I would be working outside, the weather would be a factor in that, too. Plus, there were the vagaries of life in an age when you must schedule appointments three months ahead for the simplest things. As we approached the elusive peak window, painting the wisteria was given center stage. The calendar was cleared, and my kit was ready.

I was getting reports: 30% bloom, 60% bloom, another hot day might bring it to near full flower, and then it was here.

When I woke on Peak Day One, the sky was cloudy. The report said it might be better the next afternoon, but rain was forecast overnight, and if it brought hail (which was currently happening in Ohio), it could damage the flowers. My painting philosophy leans heavily on striking while the iron is hot, so I decided this was it.

Gray day or not, the wisteria was impressive. I set up and started a drawing with thinned paint while planning how to build the image. Sunny day and cloudy day are two different paintings. I took a chance by roughing in everything darker than it appeared. That gave me the option to add light patches at the end if the sun came out or to raise the value overall if it stayed gray like that. Either way, the commitment meant it would take half-again as long as a typical painting.

After an hour, it got cold and blustery. I put my hoodie back on. Some mourning doves fluttered and cooed as they poked around the pots not far from my feet. In a while, the sky began to spit but stopped after a few minutes. A couple of sparrows zipped by. The wind calmed, the temperature rose, and the sky brightened a little. A blazing red and most curious cardinal hopped around in the vines, cocking his head, keeping his bird-eye on me. The sun teased but didn’t show its face — that is, not until I was packed to leave. Then, summoning colors and shadows instantly, it parted the clouds and painted a vivid new scene in front of me, all with a chuckle and a wink.

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