January 1972 – Charleston
The Gallery was cold and the heater could not keep up with the biting wind just outside the door. The rain beat hard against the window of the studio. The old building seemed to tremble as if afraid of the storm. It was well past midnight, and I finally finished the canvas for Jessie Earle and signed my name in the bottom corner.
I was exhausted and I went to the back storage room and laid down on the cot, falling asleep as soon as I closed my eyes. My dreams were filled with a collage of images, the story of Jessie Earle’s life. He was a famous poet living a life of fame, friends, love, and tragedy. He too was now a story, painted on a massive canvas, the soft Sepia colors calming, healing, and captivating.
The sunrise was filled with bright bold colors as if an artist’s brush had touched the clouds. I could sense that Jessie had been there late in the night knowing that this would be the only moment he would have to see his own story and embrace the fact that he would again become famous. I could smell his Sandalwood cologne as I had many times, and, as always, I had not seen him, yet I knew he had been there taking in the finished canvas. Like a book of poems, he knew he would not be forgotten, a love filled with passion that never diminishes, he knew he would not fade away.
I turned on the spotlights and even though I painted the canvas I was in awe of its presence and its power. It seemed to have a life of its own, the stories rotating around the canvas just as Jessie lived them. I knew I was finished here, the story told, yet I knew by painting this canvas I too told my own story. It was a story of my journey that started over a year ago when I went back to Tuscumbia, Alabama and while I am finished here, I knew I had one last place to go, my home in Myrtle Beach.
Jessie Earle had as always left me an envelope with a check for doing the painting and a list of poets to read on my new journey. He reminded me that I still had a manuscript to complete, and he hoped that he would one day read my book.
The next chapter- The Shoemaker
- Sepia: The Color Of Truth | BIZCATALYST 360°
- Sepia The Color Of Memories | BIZCATALYST 360°
- The Royal Typewriter | BIZCATALYST 360°
- The Poet’s Library | BIZCATALYST 360°
- Saying Goodbye | BIZCATALYST 360°
- The Urn Carver | BIZCATALYST 360°
- Church Bells Ringing | BIZCATALYST 360°
- Church Bells Ringing | BIZCATALYST 360°
- The Wayward Son | BIZCATALYST 360°
