Tuesday, November 10, 2009

A picture is worth a thousand words

I wanted to share with you this portrait I did of my father who died at the age of 58. He was about 24 years old. I painted it for my Mom for Mother's Day, this year. It was an emotional work and I knew it would be because my dad and I were very close.

Something else I want to share with you that goes along with the theme of my post. Brent and I bought a movie camera the first year of our marriage. I was a cheap camera. College students can't afford too much even though Brent was on a full ride Scholarship, He was a pitcher for the 61-65 U of U baseball team. amd one of the best too. His fast ball was around 96 mph. He was being watched by the Pittsburg Pirates and the White Sox. Then, one cold day he pitched 12 innings. Utah won the game 1 to 0. He had pitched a shutout and in doing so on that very cold day, his arm was never the same. Oh, he was good enough to try out for the pros. but he walked away, knowing his life has another purpose.

anyway, back to the cheap camera. We used it to take over 100 movies of our first years of marriage. Movies of the 4 baby boys that grew up and became fathers, themselves. Movies of so many friends and family - and they all walked and moved like the people in the silent movies- fast (remember, it was a cheap camera) but, oh, the memories. The camera broke when our fourth son was just a baby. the projector broke after years of watching the films, so we had this great idea. We would put the films on DVD's. Great idea, and it worked. Every picture is worth a thousand words, and we sit in silence holding hands and watch the babies growing up, the friends that remain close in our hearts, and the family some of whom have passed away, yet who still live on DVD. The smiles mingle with tears as the memories pass before our eyes.

I find as I paint that the painting speaks to me just like the characters in the books I write. Some may think that sounds a little corny, but they say artistic people are a little strange. I'll accept that. It's an excuse for all the strange things I find myself doing.

I think what I'm trying to say is that these pictures I've taken (with the help of my husband), and the paint I have put on canvas, and books I have written, reach out to me and remind me of how blessed I am.

Thank you for stopping by.


Terri Ferran said...

You are very gifted. Thank you for sharing.

Kathi Oram Peterson said...

What a great portrait of your father. And a touching story about your husband's pitching. Now I know why you're so great!

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