I believe Art’s authentic value is held in the heart of the viewer. This large acrylic (5′ x 5′) work was painted decades ago. Over the years, viewers have given me the gift of their unique interpretations of this image.
I know why I painted this image back then, but today, for me, it has come to bear an entirely different meaning – one that I hold in my heart.
Feel free to share your interpretation if you’d like. (I’ll not comment on your thoughts, good or bad – swing away)
I hope you’re managing during this time of… (so many words I want to put here, but we’re being bombarded enough)
Months ago, my son had asked me if I could recreate a painting for him. The particular artwork in question – he’d decided long ago – was his favorite of all time. Since I’d painted a picture of fish for his sister, I told him I’d create art for him too. The painting he wanted had been living as a blurry photo on his phone for quite some time. He’d seen the art – years ago – hanging on the wall of a restaurant.
Neither Max or I were able to locate a decent reference image – my son’s photo was so blurry in fact, I saw nothing but white in the air and dark lumps on the ground. My son’s description from memory was “men on horses and some cabins.” We went as far as returning to the restaurant (under new ownership for several years) and inquiring about the painting that had once hung on their far left wall.
Now I’ll tell you, I don’t like painting landscapes – I never have – meaning – I’ve avoided them my entire life – so my best attempts at recreating any are fake – I muddle my way through in an effort to get something close to the needle of credibility. The painting above is the result – my son – of course – loves it – because his mom made it for him. Any artist looking at this might smile and keep the honest review beneath the tongue.
And, as karma so often intervenes, months after I’d finished the painting, Max and I walked 2 blocks from the house to get coffee. The coffee-bar’s proprietor was a collector of books, art, antiques…and when we showed him the photo of my painting – he immediately knew whose artwork I’d been trying to recreate (in fact – the framed reproduction below was actually in another room of his coffee bar)- dang – was I off.
The Last Cantonment, 1783 – John F. Gould
John Fleming Gould (1906-1996) graduated from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, NY, and later instructed at Pratt for 22 years. He was a prominent illustrator for the Saturday Evening Post for more than 8 years. Many of Mr. Gould’s works hang in private collections. He was partial to historical subjects, especially in the Hudson River Valley from the Statue of Liberty to Albany, NY.
I’ve provided more visual snow for some of you. who don’t really need to see anymore snow. I hope you’re all keeping warm, am:)
Thirteen birthday-attendees ride the little train through the painted tunnel and scream when the tunnel turns oil-black. Afterward, the animated girls leap onto the spring-loaded playground.
I fix eyes on the ponies dusting-up the ring from the perch of a bouncing rooster. After a few minutes, the birthday girl’s mom, Mrs. Bee, leads us over to the ring. I take Parochial-school position for biggest girl — end of the line.
Each time a young handler instructs the next rider how to safely mount, my heart leaps. I bound up the wooden stairs when my turn arrives. Butterbean’s handler wears a cowboy hat. His broad teeth shine like the sun. His slim eyes are eclipsed by his hat brim.
Those darkened eyes look me over. Out the sunlit mouth, a question trots out, “What do you weigh?”
I haven’t yet perfected the art of the lie. The truth sinks me 20 pounds above my classmates.
The cowboy’s teeth vanish behind a cloud of smirking lips, “You’re too big to ride this pony.”
I swallow the screaming. I reverse-off the podium.
My cheeks brighter than the eyes of giggling classmates and the red balloons bubbling beside Sally’s birthday cake, I clod, head down, praying for my early death.
Today, I no longer believe in God.
(Misty of Chincoteague – painted when I was 13 – I remember being quite proud of this acrylic work thinking at the time)
I hope for those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving that you had a beautiful holiday. I had 24 family members in my home, and we had a wonderful day. Today, the little girl who was turned away from a pony ride, is heading to the gym. Later, she will run her three miles when the sun warms the land a tad more. She is always running, trying to stay just ahead of the little sad girl.
anntogether 