Page 151 - Genius

Many could not see, hear, speak or
move. The television blared; no one
watched. They had a schedule but
it was not their own. Waiting was
his or her only option and often no
one came. Time was all they had
yet they had not much time. This
series began with my own father
in a care home. On my first visit,
the sight, smell, and the emotional
ambience of the care home was
all too familiar. like many others,
he was once self-reliant but had
slowly faded into a setting of total
dependence. Here at this juncture is
where all of life's human resistance,
pride and privacy are relinquished.
In their youth their worth was
expressed in beauty and abilities.
Now their youth has passed, beauty
has faded and abilities, lost. What
value do they hold today?
looking into the face of death, the
aged holds on to old memories
sweetened with time. They must
adapt without complaining for
they know that the world may
not care and no one comes to
tell them otherwise. Aging has
no prejudice of race or gender.
Death is approaching and they have
witnessed many who have passed
on before them.
It has been said that life is a journey.
If so, then where is the destination?
As a newborn baby journeys into
a new life, could death mean a
journey into another domain?

It is common for my work to begin
analytically. However without
exception each piece finishes
intuitively. I paint in the medium
of oil and the images are life-sized.
As the series evolves, the work
touches on the different facets of
the elderly and reflects the depth
of my thoughts and responses to
their private world. In this world
there exists an intersection of
dignity, fragility and worth; the
inhabitants are treasures to few
and comfortably forgotten to most.

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