My Dad

I know father's day, as with many other "holidays" are nothing more than contrived days by business entities. Still this particular day made me think of the talents my father had. Though he never had any formal training and considering the time and place he grew up in, my dad could effortlessly play the piano and draw. He always drew but he never painted until one Christmas my sister gave him a set of oil paints. He was off to the races. After learning some basics, he set out to recreate pats of the Sistine Chapel. Not on the cellar ceiling but rather large paintings. He did 10 or 12 of them. They stood around 3 feet high or so. Here are two of them.

He did a few portraits then settled on landscapes. He saw this artist on PBS. I forget his name but he could whip up a landscape painting in less than a half hour. It seems my father said, "I can do that."
Here are some of his landscapes. I have six of them hanging in my living room. I showed those 5 or 6 years ago. These are others that I have photographed.

 

     

All these feature pretty much the same theme. I can't actually say all of these were done in a half hour because I know they weren't. And yet if you look at it and think that it's well detailed, you would be surprised to learn it's fairly easy and quick with certain size brushes.
I know nothing about painting but I did see my dad paint and it just came to him naturally.

Here's my dad and me in Royall Park in my hometown, on my mother's birthday June 13, 1953. 

 So happy Fathers Day dad. Thanks for a wonderful childhood.

I'm outta here.