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Full Walls: An Introduction

carlamklassen

It is difficult to know where to begin, and it will take some time to get through, but it is time to begin a journey across our walls.


Anyone who has been in our home, is well aware that our walls are crowded. We wholeheartedly espouse the salon style of hanging art. No single line of paintings here, all hung at eye level. No uniformity. No rhyme, no reason. Not even the smallest thought given to what matches. The walls are simply full. Full of the beautiful work produced by all manner of artists, filling our view with their insights on our world and its visual feasts.


When my nephew was very little, he arrived at our house, looked around the room with wide eyes, and asked his dad, “Why are there so many things on the walls?” Apparently our excess is so unusual, even a child notices. So why do we collect art? This is a good question. And I’m not sure I have an answer. When I was a kid, there was a game at my grandparent’s house called ‘Masterpiece: The Art Auction Game’ – I don’t recall the game itself, but I do remember the cards. Each one had a picture of a famous painting on one side, with a description of the work and the artist on the other. I looked through these repeatedly whenever we visited. It wasn’t terribly exciting at grandma’s house, but these were the highlight. I loved them. I wonder if that was the start of my love of art? It certainly opened up an awareness of its existence.



I have spent a bit of time thinking about how to organize the stories of our pictures. Certainly a list for insurance purposes would be a much easier way to approach this, but that doesn’t sound very interesting nor does it reveal what each piece holds in my memory. Stories of how this accumulation came to be; stories of those behind the easel. So, just to get things started, and with some trepidation, I begin with myself. I am not really a painter, well not at all. Except for a few bits from long ago, hanging here and there. I suppose I qualify as a creative type, but in this department, I have serious limitations. So why do I keep some of my feeble attempts in full view on our walls? Because, despite their mediocrity, within them are tales of my life, people I’ve known and a few stories and memories.


Let us look back into the mind of a thirteen-ish year old girl – not really a place any of us wants to go, but there it is. My earliest...masterpiece...was titled, “Blood and Sunshine”. I have no idea what that means. I have no memory of doing the painting, but it’s been with me ever since. It’s just a mish mash of heavily applied oil paint. It resides behind our treadmill – in its ratty frame, hanging on by a thread, ripped and decaying. And yet, I sort of love it. It has travelled many miles. It has hung in many homes. Surely the title speaks to the dramatic anguish of a teenager’s mind, my mind, filled with whatever was troubling or celebratory at the time. It speaks to survival. The reality that we move past those years and can look back with fondness, relief and even a bit of self-mocking and humour. This painting is about both the beginning of, and a whole life. Blood and sunshine. Then and now – tattered and yet still present; full of colour and texture and having stood the test of time.


Over the years I made a few other attempts, and while I have long reconciled with my failed career as a painter, there are a few others I’d like to mention. Well, three. They are family pieces, of a sort. The first is a painting of my sister and her former husband. When they were first married, I traced their body shapes onto a canvas. From opposite directions. I painted them each their own colour, and where the images overlapped, I mixed these two colours together. So symbolically simple. While they are no longer married, we are all still family. We are all still dearly beloved friends. We have shared many important moments together over the past twenty five years. Special times at Christmas, the arrival of their children, support during struggles, countless belly laughs, walks through parks, more than one Broadway show and many, many snacks. We will continue to do so long into the future. I don’t think this painting is very good, but it does remind me of these two very important people. Of their love, their children, their lives – together and apart. It reminds me of how we come into any relationship from a different direction – we blend, we bleed. And then, we care for each other and laugh together, come what may. Bittersweet and treasured.


Two more paintings to recall. They are colourful. Swirls, shapes, bright, happy, carefree. They hang as a pair in our dining room. And they always remind me of my father-in-law. Because, he has told me many times they are his favourites. I’m not entirely sure why, perhaps it is the brightness? They dance with colour. His admiration of these is very meaningful to me. It is no secret that I was an unexpected addition to my husband’s family. Not quite what they had imagined for their son – and we’ve had an occasional tussle in the thirty five years I’ve been around. But generally, I think, we get along. We’ve shared both laughs and difficult moments, and I sense that there has developed an understanding of the abundant life their son and I have built. Probably the wish of most parents, despite the size and shape of that life being different than what they had envisioned. These paintings remind me that I have been able to give moments of joy, and that they have been seen.


All of these pictures remind me of my life. They do not inspire pride in the sense of artistic accomplishment, but they do inspire a kind of recognition of the fullness of my own experiences. The memories evoked are rich. Neither solely good nor bad, pleasant or painful. The colours are mixed. The brightest emerge with energy, the darkest recede but remain an important part of the composition. As I walk through our collections, I am so aware of this combination. It is the whole of the spectrum that provides depth to the journey.


The walls are full and as I begin my stroll through this landscape, I seek the memories, struggles, joys and beauty that reside within these many frames. Their fullness is about lives lived and creativity captured. Glimpses of artists' views, skills and perspectives. Full walls. Full frames. Full lives.

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