Saturday, August 20, 2005

Portrait Of The Artist With His Father (From Photo)

I Painted this for my father as a gift, but when I gave it to him, not knowing much about art or shading, he complained that I made his teeth too black. I did this from a photo taken at a family reunion at his trailer, where he moved with his fourth wife. I would chase the nieces and nephews around the trailer while he sat around and argued politics with my brother while we all sat around drinking beer and grilling burgers.
When he moved to Arizona, as he packed up his car and trailer, he had to decide what he could and couldn't take with him. The trip to Arizona was for my step-mother, who had asthma and couldn't breathe the pollen laden Michigan air any more. We all sat around watching him get stressed as his wife was in the hospital and he tried to get his meager posessions in the Mazda he had at the time. He brought this painting out and thrust in my hands saying, "Here, take this, I don't have room for it, and anyway, you made my teeth too black." So I put it my car and watched my dad for what would be the last time I saw him. The following year, he had a stroke and was in the hospital. While on the operating table to have a pacemaker put in, he had a coronary and died. At least I have this painting. You can see, my dad and I were very close, and I miss him sometimes, especially after my children were born. However, if he had never passed away, I would have never had the urge to start my own family, and would never had talked my wife into having Wilbur, my first born son.


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