Why has one of my latest paintings mysteriously changed position in my art bin? Floating, so it appeared to be, instead of sitting in proper position with the rest of the paintings.
“Hmmm. Did Charlie (cat) jump into the bin and snuggle under the painting? I hope not!”
I investigate the other paintings. No paw prints, no chewed paper, not cat fur. That is strange. I adjust the painting so it is now standing as the others are in a vertical stack.
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| English: Belties at Old Bridge of Urr Belties (belted galloway cattle) in field by B794 above the hamlet Old Bridge of Urr. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
Hubby walks in from his office. “I have to tell you, Hun, your latest pieces are really interesting. You are really good at revealing relationships in your paintings.”
“Thank you. I didn’t think you liked the last two.”
“Oh, no. They are really good. You’ve captured the feeling. The relationship between the two belties in your water color. You can see the affection shared between the two in your composition, and the posture of both cows. It really like it.”
I look over Hubby’s shoulder as he edits his latest letter to all his friends and relatives. He loves writing. Been at it for years. In my former employ as a teacher, I used to mail his stack of weekly letters as I arrived at work. I’d hand the collection with handwritten addresses to the receptionist “It’s nice to know someone still writes letters,” she had smiled.
“Here, review my latest letter,” Hubby turns in his seat.
As I sort through the four pages, I am shocked to see my two latest paintings in his current letter.
“You photographed my paintings?”
“Yes. They tell a story. You captured the subjects and expressed more than the image.”
“Thank you. But you never asked.”
Hubby’s smile disappeared. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be a problem.”
“I thought the cat had been in my bin. But it was you.”
“Uh, yes. Is there a problem?”
“Well, no one has seen my latest work and now you are dispersing an image of them to several people who either won’t care or will share it with others. That is not fair. You must ask first. If Jamie Wyeth’s new creation were shared that way, you would be sued. There is such a thing as copyright infringement.”
Silence.
“Why did you photograph the daisy as well?”
Hubby, smiles. “You captured something I didn’t notice. As we worked at logging, moving the branches out of the way, piling the logs and cutting some into firewood, you found a little daisy struggling to survive through the disruption we imposed in its environment. You plucked it up, placed it in a tiny bottle and gave it another life.
“Then you painted it. You captured its inner being, wanting to survive, reaching for the sun. It demonstrated strength. It spoke to me. It is a simple painting, but it caught my attention—I had to write about it. You have to keep painting because you are good at it.”
Silence.
“I hope it is okay to send the letters as they are.”
Hubby’s words soothe and encourage me. They were simple paintings, not complicated as some seem to be at times. I am my own worse critic…isn’t every artist?
The printouts don’t really do justice to the colors used in the original artwork. But that is the printer’s fault. Too many browns I told Hubby as he first tested our new printer. He likes brown, I suppose.
“Okay. But ask me next time. Also, I recommend you crop the daisy better. You left one border in the painting. It distracts from the subject because it is not part of the composition.”
“Thanks, Hun.” Hubby happily edits his narrative.
“Charlie. You want some milk?”
“Meow,” the cat smiles. I swear it sounds like ‘Meowilk’. Charlie is almost human. Therefore, he wouldn’t nap in my art bin. My artwork speaks to him too: He’s afraid of cows. :-)
After eight years of ownership, small rusty segments fell to the ground below the fender almost daily. Why get another car, this one was paid for, no more car loan.
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