I cherish those memories of her. But once, as an adult, I guess out of spite, I insulted her art work. I still don't know why I did that. She was also never trained and was completely self taught and she did well long before stupid me was ever born.
And when she died I inherited her art books. And two of her paintings. As soon as I received them, I knew I would regret being stupid my whole life. She taught me more about being an artist than anyone else ever did. Not the why's, the how to.
And then tonight, my kid was going through these books again, the same books I snuck away as a kid, she pulled them all out of the box they have been in for decades and a picture of my father, my grandmothers only child, fell out. He was about 6 years old in it and I now have 3 pictures of him in total. He was also a self taught artist, a wood carver.
And along with the picture a folded felt sheet came with it. It was obvious it held a painting. I recognized the brushstroke and colors right away even from the reverse side.
I opened it up to find the best example of my grandmothers work that I have ever seen.
Her Masterpiece.
Her name was Eva Cole and this was her at her best. It is unsigned but I am certain it is hers.
I think it is beautiful.
I can still see her pencil and pen marks.
5 comments:
What a treasure! And found by the right person I believe.
I looked at my fathers pic, and I knew that felt had her painting on it. I went to open it and all I could think of was that poem...
Lo there do I see my Father!
Lo there do I see my mother!
And my sisters, and my brothers!
Lo there do I see the line of my people! Back to the beginning!
And they bid me to take my place among them.
I wish I could have known them both as artists. They were the line of talent that trickled down to me. If you combined all the time all three of us pursued art it would probably add up to more than the sum of my entire life.
As many problems as there were, these are the only two who truly believed that One Day... I would be an artist.
I realize now they truly believed it, not because I was any good, but because they knew the potential of their own talents.
How beautiful.
I'm sure you miss your grandmother.
I miss mine tremendously!
Oh yes - that poem - I feel that way when I think about my origins here in Australia and my love of literature and the classics. And love for education of any kind. My great aunt graduated from Melbourne University Faculty of Medicine in the late 1800s but couldn't get a job in a hospital or private practice because she was a woman.
I have a photo of her setting off on her rounds as a doctor - she's sitting on a camel with her doctor's bag in front - out in the Western Queensland desert. They weren't so fussy out there. I imagine most of her patients were Aboriginal. I wish I'd known her. Perhaps I do.
What a cool story Woz.
She sounds like a very interesting person. I can almost see the pictureof her in my head.
You will have to show us one day, tell us more about her.
It never ceases to amaze me at how paranoid men were. So paranoid they would dismiss a perfectly good doctor for being female.
It was the same over here in those days.
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