Late every August and into September, it’s impossible not to think of the impact of the flood waters from tropical storm Harvey (it had been downgraded from a hurricane by the time it got to us) on Houston, our home, our family, and so many of our friends in 2017.
I know I blogged a lot about it, and often refer to it even now. When I was pulling all my journals and diaries out of the cabinet that housed them, I found again something very special that I shared here when I found it water-damaged in a bin a few days after we were flooded.
It was a sketch done of my father by a fellow art student in 1949. It hadn’t been in the best shape, but the water further stained and damaged the paper. I was crushed when I found it. Lynne and Debby carefully extracted it from the water and set up a safe place for it to dry.
When I took it out of the cabinet the other day, I decided it was time to frame and hang it, and now it’s in the library.
It hangs between two of his paintings: one of an old fisherman (my brother or sister may know more about this one) and one he painted for me when I was a young adult and asked him for “a city.” He interpreted it in a way I’d never have imagined and still love so much that it’s a pleasure to see it every day. You may even remember the colors inspired one of my tiny One Word Art paintings that I titled “Respect.”
I think he damaged paper actually adds to the portrait of your father. And says something about how his daughter keeps her head above the rising waters and serves as an example like he did.
He had a look of James Dean about him.
I think it’s a rather romanticized view of him–the way the man who sketched him thought an artist should look, perhaps. He was just back from fighting in WW2, so I suspect he didn’t look quite that handsome and healthy. I do think there’s sadness in his eyes, and knowing some of the things he experienced, I don’t see how there couldn’t have been.