Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Christmas time

Its now just three days to Christmas, don't time fly! Well it does if your busy busy busy, stupidly I once thought that when I retired I would have loads of that strange stuff called leisure, what a laugh! Ain't it just so, when you think things are going well the smelly brown gungy stuff hits always the fan, funny old life!



Anyway looking through some old photo's to'ther night I found two separate sepia photo's, one of my mother and the other of my father taken some time in the 1930's (they married in 34) and I thought it would be nice to combine the two in a painting.
It was a bit of a struggle with Mom's portrait from the start but the old fella came good almost immediately, so being engrossed and cursing especially on the fifth repainting of mom I forgot to take photo's during the painting session only doing one at the roughing stage and again at the end.

Portrature
I am glad that I painted them together, in some small way its my homage to them, their names were Elizabeth and Amos and they were great parents, the best. They worked hard all their lives and were never flush with cash finding life very hard at times, even so they always celebrated Christmas and made it a magical time for me.

Elizabeth, Liz as she was known had a great sense of humor coupled with a beautiful kind nature, she would help anyone.

Amos (he hated the name), a quiet man, kind, honest, loyal, courageous, what words do I have? non that could do him justice, a man of honor so rare that I have never met his like, nor do I think I ever will. 

Even now after all the years I still miss them both.


Wrote this poem a short while back

The Stranger

Returning to the place where I was born
Memories of long ago
Now lost and so forlorn
I seek the ghosts whereof I had delight
Look to the misery to adorn
bring my soul from darkness to the light

Yet all I see is changed I fear
No more the house of happy childhood
No sweet sights to bring a tear
An ugly estate sprawls where it stood
Changed too the very streets on which I played
All is gone.
I am a stranger here!

There in that street stood the old gas light
The one we children gathered round
A dark cold winter's haven of delight
That let us play and talk and more
Until called in from the night
And there, that place was once my father's garden
All gone.
I am a stranger here.

Those I loved now lie sleeping
No longer slaves to life's unending toil
Wrapped in the Earth and softly dreaming
beneath this native soil
What fool am I?
They live within me still I sigh,
Nothing is lost from fond memory
I am no stranger here.
                                            Rob Ward 2016



This is a painting I did based on an old mono photo two Christmases ago.
That little girl is now my wife of forty plus years.
                          

        
                         Merry Christmas to all.

 



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