My grandpa used to be a painter. Before mom and dad divorced we had this huge oil painting he did in an ornate frame hanging in our dining room. It was a canyon with dark, dark mountains and a very vibrant sunset. This is where I got my love for saturated colours and my passion for art, this is my Zeal. I just found out that it got damaged in a move, I don't even know where it is anymore. It's been years since I've seen it, and I don't remember exactly what it looked like, just that it had very vibrant reds and oranges and blacks. It was the most beautiful painting I've ever seen. I'm going to do some sleuthing and see if I can't at least find its remains.
RIP, Zeal.
Ah, that's sad. I can relate: In my dad's office hangs a picture of a waterfall in a forest that I've always loved since I was but a wee Josh. It has this splash of color in the middle...I think it's a piece of blue that's
just there; there's no reason for it. But it does something for the composition as a whole. It really is a beautiful painting.
It belongs, however, to my dad's second wife--not to Dad himself. When I was going through my childhood phase of "Can I have this when you die?" I asked for the painting, and he told me that it is on permanent loan to him, and thus I have no claim to it.
(Kids really do have some of the darnedest phases, don't they?)
