In April 2022, when I committed to painting a five-foot-tall fiberglass dragon statue for the Village of DeForest, I wasn’t entirely certain what I had gotten myself into.

I am primarily a watercolorist, and as such, usually create relatively small works. My largest painting to date is on an 18x24” sheet of paper. I’ve never painted fiberglass, but I had heard from other artists that it is a difficult substrate to hand-paint since it is so smooth. As usual, I was confident that I could learn as I went and let the details be future-Mindy’s problem.

Due to manufacturing delays with the statues, what was initially a tight, but manageable, four week turnaround, quickly became wrought with anxiety-spiking unknowns:

April… How can I represent the river on a dragon?

May… What supplies do I need if I don’t know exactly what I am painting?

June… What if I don’t finish in time?

July… What is the fastest way to paint fiberglass?

As excited as I was for the project to launch, I’ll admit that I was relieved when the organizer ultimately decided to delay the exhibition until the following summer. I could finally breathe.

I took my son to the Upper Yahara River Trail to gather inspiration. As we walked along the path, he photographed dandelions and threw pebbles into the water; I took in the meandering roots of riverside trees, a robin’s song cutting through the thick summer air, and Oliver gently nudging a caterpillar from the path to grass and out of harms way.

My camera and sketchbook were brimming with inspiration - scattered with glimpses of quiet discoveries scattered everywhere. Since the statue hadn’t yet arrived at my studio, the project was full of boundless possibility and I couldn’t settle on how best to represent the river.

And then, on one of the last days of summer, it arrived.

Surrendering half of my studio space, I rolled out a dropcloth for the intimidatingly white statue. How would I even begin a project this large? What was I thinking?