I’ve been working on a painting for the last few months, and I’d like to share its story.
For many years, I’ve fantasized of arranging my life and finances such that I could focus on my artwork as a full time pursuit. I’ve worked in advertising for over 20 years, and it has served me tremendously, from affording me group health coverage when pre-existing clauses ruled out the possibility of an individual policy, to the need to show consistent pay when we embarked on financing a home. For these things I am grateful, but this dream of having the independence to live creatively has always lingered. Three hours in traffic and a moving target of responsibilities seemed to be what I had to accept to maintain my life in Los Angeles.
Then COVID hit. The agency where I had worked for the last 11 years had been having losses and I hurried to refinance my house and arrange my life to be able to withstand a layoff. Things landed and I found myself like many during this pandemic, with a lot more time on my hands. My partner Steve was in New Orleans for work, and a six month job turned into over a year. Thankfully, severance, unemployment insurance, savings, and my partner’s unwavering support made the situation a silver lining in a tumultuous year of challenges. I could hunker down at home, alone, weather the pandemic, while focusing my energies on revising my art practice. I signed up for #quarantinedartistexchange (check it out on IG - wonderful stuff!!!), lost 25lbs, amped up my meditation, and organized my art studio. I was ready and willing to meet the moment.
Isn’t if funny how when you are ready for something, life responds?
My cousin Paul was raised in California - I grew up in Texas. When I moved to Los Angeles, we overlapped for a while and were able to connect. His humor and intelligence resonated with me for obvious reason (ahem..) and the fact that he was also the gay son only made us more compatible friends. Ironically, he ended up moving to Texas and we had not been in touch for some time. Paul and his husband Mike had met when they were quite young and had enjoyed a relationship that spanned almost two decades. However, Mike had been struggling as of late with cancer. Fuck cancer.
Paul reached out and commissioned me to do their portrait. He had a picture that captured them in a happy moment. It was low resolution and small in size, but he was attached to it nonetheless. I started bouncing off ideas with Paul in hopes of bringing some of their personality and aesthetic into the picture and solving for the limitations in the source material. The guys have a very unique style in how they present themselves and how they decorated their incredible home. On a virtual tour of their house we came across a wonderful chandelier that had a fantastic backstory to boot. I felt inspired and had Paul send me photographs of it. The geometry of it, the elements - crystal pears and strawberries - sparked an idea.
I looked up the work of Kehinde Wiley, who did president Obama’s presidential portrait. The background would be approached in a similar way, with colors and pattern that echoed Paul and Mike’s home. It would also put the portrait in a conceptual space, taking them out of the literal. It’s iconography would mean something personal to them. Yes! I got to work.
Time went on and I worked two hours here, four hours there. Unfortunately Mike’s cancer worked faster and he died before I would complete the work. I’m not sure how to feel about this. I’m glad we got to meet over FaceTime and that the work was begun when he was here, but now it changed what the painting was about - it was now in memory of Mike. The situation was made worse when, over the holidays Paul’s dad, my uncle Mike, also passed away. No one will be left untouched by COVID and now our family was part of it's history. My cousin was in pain, but the painting as a project kept us in contact and collaboration.
I finished and shipped the painting a week ago, and the painting arrived in San Antonio last Friday. Paul was generous and gracious in his response to it. There is a popular “dicho” in Mexico - no hay mal que por bien no venga. Roughly translated it means that when you are visited by the bad, there is some inevitable good that will result as a consequence of it. Paul’s friend came over and saw the painting and shared a photo of it with her sister on the east coast.The next day I received a commission to do three more portraits.
Although I was happy with how the final painting came out, what I will treasure most is reconnecting with my cousin, being support for each other when tragedy struck, emotions were amplified, and isolation challenged us. The image is an artifact of a very specific period in our collective history, and I hope with more time it becomes a portal to a love lived and a comfort in a time of loss.
