It is said that a picture is worth a 1,000 words. It is also said that simplicity is a sign of perfection. Somewhere in between these polarities lies the age old conundrum of making a good painting.
“Mae Preta”, Oil On Linen, 20” x 16”
We are taught formalist technique in academies and become instruments of an ancient art. Over time it becomes the same kind of picture and a creative souls seeks a narrative, their own. The problem lies in the work tending to be too soaked with sentiment and a clear meaning is often missed. I cannot say that I am immune but along my path have stumbled upon a number of AHA moments. This happened to be one of them.
The genesis of this painting actually was the byproduct of another. If that makes any sense… I intended to paint an edgy painting of a gentleman I worked with named Bruno. He is tall, heavily inked, and dons a mane of dread locks. We agreed to do some urban narrative.
The day arrived and Bruno showed up with his four year old son and mother. I wanted rock n’ roll and what I got was the whole family. Cool. Looking back on that balmy August afternoon, I am glad that things took a completely different direction than every misguided cliche I was trying to fashion into a statement. Unbeknownst to me there were far more powerful currents steering me in the right direction.
The painting of Bruno took on a narrative of fatherhood and fostering a male identity in modern times. It is one in my life I always wanted to be rewritten. When we returned to my apartment in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, Bruno’s mother sat down in a Vermeer quality of Northern Light I knew I wouldn’t see again.
Bruno’s mother was from Mozambique and arrived in full regalia. Her elegance showed her pride in her homeland’s traditions and customs. Her presence was of a grace that comes from the satisfaction of a life time’s achievements; motherhood and being a grandmother. There was a calm she exuded from the long look back, a wisdom accrued over a lifetime.
The narrative was right in front of me. I couldn’t make it up if I tried. I could only be a sensitive instrument in telling a story.