My 98 year old friend paints, everyday.
He is a tall, elegant, aristocratic man who paints abstracts–
Cubes, figures without facial expressions, and one eyed boomerangs
in vivid color.
His paintings are his hobby, his story, his adventure.
He never sells his paintings.
One day I invited a friend to come with me, and visit my artist friend. Though a world of difference I feared stood between them– Young man from
They clicked instantly.
We were standing in his studio amongst the hundred one eyed boomerangs which seemed to salute us. Neither of my friends spoke the others language so I elected to translate. Their conversation was full of art, culture, history and design. I was happily going along with the flow of their discussion when suddenly I heard my voice saying “…He said he would love to own one of your paintings, have you ever thought about selling any of them?” —wait what are you saying— I turned to my friend and whispered, as if I was interrupting their conversation, “You cannot ask to buy his paintings we are here to VISIT remember?” At the same time my ears heard in French, “Well, if you want to buy some of my paintings I suppose I could sell you a few?” -Wait what are you hearing-
I turned to my artist friend recounting, “I thought you once told me; selling your paintings would be like selling your family!”
I was in the middle of my own muddle. Baffled by the change of events!
We drove off with fifty or sixty paintings in the backseat .
Anything is possible. Life is full of surprises.
My artist friend sold his one eyed boomerangs,
to an antique dealer who proudly hung them
next to his Maire Antoinette!
A few weeks later a package came in the mail addressed to me. It was hard and flat. Opening it I discovered a painting of many short brush strokes in thick muted colors. Towards the center there are blotches of red brush strokes surrounded by greens and yellows. I held and looked at it, then I placed it on the mantle and stepped back, slowly I walked clear across the room to admire it.
On the backside of the painting a small one word note was attached it read, “Bouquet.” Ah ha! A bouquet of flowers! As if my mind became a camera lenses focusing instantly on the perfect painted petals!
Life is how you see it. (Or paint it or Hear it or speak it.)
Modern artist friend can paint flowers in muted colors!
My antique dealer friend can buy a family!
And me the small town girl can-can!
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