acrylic on hardboard
This is a painting about what happens after Sunday service is over and members are released. Upon exiting the church doors, they spend another twenty to thirty minutes talking, joking, and laughing with one another outside. My father reveled in it, and still does. On the other hand, my siblings and myself were always ready to go. We would sit in the car wondering when we would actually leave, while my parents butterflied threw the crowd of members exchanging niceties. In all fairness, we were Southern Baptist, which meant we had already sat in church for at least four hours straight that morning. Patience is not part of the teenage condition.