The Art of Love

“The world is but a canvas to our imagination.”

Henry David Thoreau

I love art. In all forms. It has been a constant through painting, music, writing, and woodworking. Art, in all its forms, is how I express myself and process my own emotions. My house is full of paintings, wooden art, furniture, and tapestries. Some I have painted. I even have one my husband painted, probably the only painting he has ever done. In his words, he is not artistic.

I have mountain scenes, the shore of a pond with lily pads on a calm day, an ocean shoreline, all on canvas, and two beautiful paintings on velvet. One is an owl, and one is a deer by a stream. I got the owl painting and the deer painting from my mother. (They have an even deeper meaning now that she has passed.) I even have driftwood art- a glorious picture of seaside cliffs- painted on a large piece of driftwood.

I have a fireplace I built out of reclaimed pine. I have rustic wooden signs, and my favorite reads, “Dads are most ordinary men turned by love into heroes, adventurers, story-tellers and lifelong friends”. I have a handmade tie-dye tapestry in my writing area. I have a small figurine of a father and a son on my desk. I am looking at it right now as I write this.

I have had the pleasure of meeting the family of a woman who was a prolific painter in her life. They were selling several of her pieces at her estate sale, and I bought them. I couldn’t believe anyone would part with these paintings, but I was told that the whole family had taken all the pictures they wanted, and their mother used to sell them anyway. I got to hear about how she started painting and some of the work she had done. They took me into her studio, a room over the garage. They hadn’t been able to empty it yet. The artist’s daughter told me stories about her mother, and I was captivated. After a few hours, I felt connected to the artist even though I had never met her. Her paintings are proudly hung on my walls.

Of every piece of art I have, and I love them all, I have one favorite. It was a Father’s Day gift three years ago. It is painted on a five-by-seven canvas board with bright white edges. The medium is acrylic. The background is a bright and colorful rainbow. In the center of the picture, there are two men. Underneath the two men is a banner titled “Dads”. (Below is a picture of the painting and a photograph that inspired it.)

“Painting is just another way of keeping a diary.”

Pablo Picasso

While all of my children are artists in some way, my youngest, Elliott (they/them), got the painting bug. For them, their paintings are their diary. A snapshot into their mind. A visual record of the situations going on in their life. It is how they express their emotions.

Elliott is the painter of my favorite painting, and they painted it when they were eleven. They were six when I came out and seven when they met my future husband. For a couple of years, I wondered if they understood what was happening around them. I didn’t know their feelings about their dad being gay. They were young, and I wondered if they understood the idea of two men or two women in love. That love in all forms is good a right. It was contrary to how they were raised until that point.

My questions about what they thought and what they understood were answered in this painting. They explained to me that the pride flag was because it was pride month, and we should be proud of who we are, and that the picture they used as inspiration was because it was my favorite picture. They added the “Dads” banner because she views my husband as one of her dads. There were tears of joy shed when they presented the painting to us and began explaining it.

“Art is not what you see, but what you make others see.”

Edgar Degas

Their painting may not hang in an exhibit at a museum, and it will probably never leave my desk. It may not be a masterpiece to others, but to me, it is. Elliott continues to impress me with their growing ability and natural talent, allowing me to see into their world. Isn’t that what art is supposed to do?

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