A cacophony of bells rang throughout the execution of ‘Waiting’. I felt a certainty and a wild anticipation from the tenor of the sketch. Color relationships revealed themselves immediately after the transparent alto lime was thinly applied over the staccato sand-grit sailcloth .The subordinate chorus of pale blue and forest green chimed in supportively and provided middle tones for the essential bass note; dark Ultramarine Blue-violet dress and shoes. The cadmium red light fluted along their edges retaining wet spontaneity. I was prepared to back off at anytime while assembling this full orchestra of color in the event that the melody got lost, but it remained clear, by virtue of uncompromised body language. The decision to eliminate the left leg indicates the extent to which I require every part to contribute to the score or be gone. A painting, always performance, has its own potential which becomes apparent in the first movement. The conductor should first seek to define, try to fulfill and not exceed that potential. The goal; reach the crescendo with a clear statement and leave the audience wanting more. The amplitude of color is possible because the muse’s comportment is muscular and imposing. You walk in the joint and spot the dy-no-mite looker, with tons of body language says: “Where the hell is HE!!…but while I’m sitting here waiting…aint I cute?.. !” After some deliberation I nixed the poodle and the teensy little handbag and waited for the other shoe to drop, it did (and they were Italian!). Not dreadfully girthed as Botero or towering as Giacometti bronze, she was perched upon the bar stool flaunting a take no prisoners chassis that demands to be noticed, pencil thin waist and firm deltoids. Finally, I allotted a parting delicacy to her facial countenance. Simulacrum eyes and resupine neck, proffer the true cipher of her longing for recognition.