so who goes to an art show on payday and spends a good chunk of their paycheck on a painting? that would be me.
it’s called sunday morning and its by rose cunniffe. love the color, love the composition, love how it makes me feel to look at it. the titled clinched it. (the photo doesn’t do it justice)
don’t know where i’m going to put it yet, don’t care. i just love having another slice of the world through someone else’s talent.
over the years, c and i have tried to purchase a piece of art every time we travel. (day trips count too) we’re not always successful, not for lack of trying, not for lack of lusting over some pieces that i still regret not picking up. only because of money. mostly because of me and money.
(long story that i’ll tell one day)
i (think) i finally learned that sometimes you have to jump in and do it. i still enjoy the artwork around the house, still think of where we bought it, the kind of day we were having when we picked it up. we were always having a good day.
often the gallery owner feels the need to tell us about the artist. (i guess) that’s interesting. the art speaks for itself. the art represents the piece of our lives that found it.
many years ago i went to the henry evans studio in california with my sister. she was an art major, very opinionated about art. i pointed out a print i liked, from the california poppies series. she pointed out one i should like, from the grasses series. she gave it to me as a gift some years later, my (then boyfriend) husband framed it for me. it’s been in every place i’ve lived.
the block for the original print was destroyed. henry evans died in 1990. my sister died in 2003.
a few years ago, c and i bought a companion piece for the original grasses. more grasses. henry said he saw them at the home of his friends. the paper on the original one has yellowed over the years, the paper on the new one is very white. we hung them together anyway.
sunday morning isn’t coming home for a few weeks. it has to stay hung with the show until its over. then it can join the rest of us.