Painting by the beautiful and oh-so-talented, Kara Adoff.
I have a story to tell you. This story is about a piece of art that I stored in my attic for 20 years. This story is about a piece of art that hung in my Grandfather’s office before it came into my possession. This story is about having the courage to make this painting my own.
When my grandfather (Pops) passed away several years ago, I inherited the very brown bridge and cityscape painting that hung in his office. I really wanted the painting of the little girl and old man rowing a boat, which hung in their kitchen, but I digress. Over the years, the painting moved into a few attics in the houses I lived in. I’ve lived in my current home for 20+ years, and the painting has resided in the attic, along with boxes of old cookbooks and Halloween costumes.
Recently, I finally mustered up the courage to sift through these relics and sort them for donation. Bags and boxes were packed and loaded to go to various charities.
But then there was the painting. The painting is huge, and it has a personality. It is also ugly
The painting leaned against the wall in my living room for a week. I couldn’t bring myself to give it away, although I had no intention of hanging it anywhere in my house for others to see.
And then, it came to me… I would make the painting my own. A few years ago, I commissioned a carpenter to cut my grandmother’s dining table (gasp) and shape it into a custom piece that fits perfectly into my space. It’s the same legs, half of the same wood, but now it’s something I adore. My daughter & I use it every day. So, why couldn’t I do the same with Pops’ weird ’70s come-and-knock-on-our-door painting?
This is how Pops’ painting turned into a giant mermaid under the full moon. This is how I came to love that I can still see little pieces of the original painting in the fins. This is why I am happy to hang this painting in my space and enjoy it every single day.
I know my memory of Pops is underneath the layers of paint that my amazingly talented friend, Kara, lovingly added to the canvas. I didn’t need to preserve what he loved. I needed to combine our history into something I find beautiful.
And maybe one day, my daughter will paint over it and make it her own too.