I remember the first fime i felt being drawn to art. I was in my mid 20's, cleaning out the basement of the house where i was renting. I had moved to the area in 96, and the job which had relocated me found me some "temporary" housing in a basement apartment of a large home. The landlady was always extremely nice and it was quiet. In all my life, I'd never known such stability, such quiet and peace.
She was part of a large Italian family who quite often had get together in her home. They would always invite me up to eat and I became very fond of her family. Her husband made the best pasta salad, and as a young broke adult, they always made sure that I got a fair share of the leftovers. Looking back, I realize those years spent on Queen Anne were far more important than I could have ever known. I learned about me, both my shortcomings and my strengths. I realized that having a loving family was a reality and not only a dream. I discovered the type of man, father and husband I wanted to become. I remember seeing her family and wanting to have a large family like that. I wanted to provide a place that was warm and loving, a home where my children and their friends felt welcome, a place where they
wanted to be.
She had four sons whom she loved very much. The basement was littered with memories of times gone by. Every toy, sweater, carpet stain, or hole in the wall had a story. One day while cleaning the garage, I came across her youngest son's art textbook which had a few paintings by Hopper. And that's when I fell in love with art. I can't draw, but there's just something about it which "draws" me.
Time moved on and I moved out, fell in love, married and now have 3 daughters. About a year ago, I remembered the textbook and searched the web. The first painting that popped out at me was this one, Automat. Automats were an early form of independent eatery meets rest stop. You could go in, buy food from a machine and sit down and eat There were popular during the early 1900's and according to one author, died to the growth of suburbs and drive thru's during the 50's.
Looking at this, I'm drawn to the silence. I wonder what she is thinking. I was single well into my thirties, and had plenty of time to think, to much actually. Wondering if I'd ever meet that special someone, wondering if i was doing it right etc. etc.
Or better yet, maybe she's just simply getting rid of a hangover, and asking herself the question "What the hell did i just do?"
