The painting is done, it has been shipped. And now I wait for it to arrive at its destination. I don’t know if you will like it, perhaps it’s not what you expected. No matter the outcome, I want you to know the story behind it. ….

Brushstrokes

This painting is for an old friend, someone I have always thought of in high regards. We never knew each very well but I met her during the most innocent time of my life. Early elementary. It was a time where my father was alive, where the worst thing I knew was loosing my marbles in a marbles game, where I had too many friends to pick from at recess, a time where things were simpler and emotions easy to understand. It is why I started this painting with white and primary colors.

But this period in time, this memory, is also attached to the memory of my father dying when I was only 11. Even though I had moved and you were not in my life at this time, I had to include it, the black. The pain feeds the good memories, it makes them stand out.

We met again 5 years later, in high school. 5 years is such a short time but the differences in me were astronomical. Looking at you reminded me how much I had changed, how much I had lost, how much I was broken. You were good, you were where I wanted to be, and you were impossible to reach. You were primaries and I was now the opposite. I was orange, purple and green. Secondary colors.

In the end, this painting is inspired by feelings and the colors they are linked to. It is nothing and it is everything. It is a story, a life, a relationship. The constants and the glimpses. It is convoluted and quite simple. The brushstrokes are smooth, some brisk, some well thought out, and others spontaneous. They represent the days you existed in my life. Over a thousand. A short time really, but impactful. Looked upon fondly, no matter how brief and how distant. Up close or from afar: The strokes are seen, the impact is felt.

This painting is for Tamara.