Mothers, brothers, and tears

I had visitors over the weekend.

Well, technically, they weren't really coming to see me as such, as in a social visit to see how I was. They were actually coming to see themselves.

In paint.

David and Martyn came all the way from Bath to view the painting I'd done of them. They had made arrangements to stay in this area and brought along Martyn's parents who are also depicted in the painting.

They arrived full of good cheer, and it was a delight to see them all and welcome them in to my new house. They admired the paintings hanging on the walls of my hallway, which I count as my mini gallery, and then looked askance at me. Where was it?

 I smiled, and led the way to my studio, opened the door and was hit by an overpowering smell of oil, turps, and paint. And said that I was pleased that the painting had now been hung and was residing upright on the wall rather than horizontal on my workdesk. And nodded towards it, although I didn't really need to do that, since it was quite obvious where it was. "Oooh it's big, bigger than I thought!" was the first comment, and they stood looking at it in silence. Then the comments started as they took it in turns to stand away from it, to view it better. They asked for the piece of wallpaper they'd sent me to view the painting against it, and could see that it would be fine against the heavy patterning. They were surprised at how deep the canvas was at 3 inches which is a bit deeper than usual, but it added to the dramatic aspect of it, and their room was easily big enough to take it,  and it added to the viewing experience in that where ever you stood or sat within the room the painting would be in 3D because of the deep edges.

I showed them the working drawings, and the preliminary sketches I'd done. And described the painting process of the acrylic underpainting, the thicker coats of acrylic to give the oils depth, and then the oils themselves, the the silver paint of the jagged wind applied with palette knife. As were the thicker parts of the paint to give it more texture.

They loved it. All of them.

But, the best bit, for me, was the fact it caused tears and upset. Instant tears on the first viewing. The tears of a mother as she sees her first born depicted in paint, her first born who although a man died too young, way too young. That's something that no mother should have to experience and is tragic for any woman to have to contend with, and will probably never fully recover from. So, when she burst into tears at the first sight of it that was the best reaction there could have been for me. Because it meant I'd got it right, it meant I'd got the right feeling in the picture, it meant it was the right face, the right expression, the right depiction, and the tears were the best affirmation for me, to prove that. A mothers tears for her first born. And I'm sorry that it made her cry but pleased as well. Really pleased!

After that, the positive comments, the hugs of thanks, the smiles of wonder, the silence as they stared at it, and the words they spoke afterwards, added to the whole wonder of me making a painting for someone. A special painting, that means so very much to them, and always will because they designed it, picked the subject matter, colours, setting, that it would be in oils on a large block canvas, that it would have various family members in it, that it would be a happy painting celebrating their past, but looking towards the future too. They will spend many hours staring at the painting when it goes to hang on their wall, and will love it.

And I stood there, quietly pleased with myself that I'd done it for them, and that they had asked me to do it. But then, the mother said she knew I'd do a good job, and named the other paintings I'd done for the family in the past. Paintings that they still have on their walls, treasured paintings, bringing love and happy memories... I'd forgotten about some of them, since it was so long ago that I did some of them, but remembered them instantly when she named them of course, they are my creations, and well loved by me as much as them.

We had tea and biscuits after that, and sat chatting about many things, life, love, friendship, fun. And all of it was done with laughter, and an ease of jovial conversation when you know that everyone is on the same wavelength, and of a job well done. And they are convinced I will get more commissions through it, as various friends of theirs are intrigued to see it, and have heard so much about it. I hope so, that's always my desire.

They didn't take the painting with them, it stays with me a while longer whilst its still drying. So, I have the pleasure of it, before it goes to Bath to live. 

And maybe it'll be the spark of a new idea, a new painting, not yet painted, but just a thought, in someones head....

Good cheer, eventually

It's funny (and not in a good way) having a funeral so close to Christmas. Two days before Christmas and most people are doing the supermarket dash, getting the sherry infused ingredients ready for the trifle, making the beds up for the in-laws staying and doing the last minute wrapping before the kids find the presents.

I didn't even know if I was going to get there.

The East Midlands area I live in had five inches of snow the day before, and I was heading three hours south on the motorway to the West Country which had had a foot of snow in places (although virtually nothing in other parts of that area weirdly). But I set off in good time, and the traffic wasn't half as bad as the authorities had said (do they say that on purpose I wonder, to keep people off the roads?) and the weather was as clement as it could be when the whole of the country is covered in snow. So, I got there ok. And suddenly realised that I WAS going to get to the funeral in time. And that brought a strange feeling - because I'd expected that I wasn't actually going to get there. And then had to focus on the fact that I would attend the funeral I'd helped to plan. My mothers funeral.



It went as well as funerals can go.

I always say that there is more love at a funeral than at a wedding. Because people are there because they want to be there, out of respect, and love, for the person who has died.  And to celebrate the fact that that person has lived, and affected them in some way during their lives.

I looked at the coffin, and was sad.

But also, I know that I felt a comfort for the fact that my mother gave birth to me, that she encouraged me to paint from an early age, and was as supportive of my talent and ability as she could have been. And that helped me to develop into the artist I am today. And through her I found the same delight that she had for people in her life. I know in many ways that I am like her. But there are also some differences in our characters too. I physically look like her, although she was brunette and I am blonde. So I have a strong sense of a family bond from her.

I shall think of her this Christmas, more than at any other time. And I will remember Christmas times past. And I shall miss her. But, I also know that I shall feel very close to her too.

And I hope that you feel close to your families and those you love, as well, and wish you the Happiest of Christmases full of good cheer, happiness, and most of all - L O V E