 Above: Little Blackie, oil on canvas, approx. 20 x 24", 1969 Right: Waiting for Jesse, oil on canvas, approx. 48 x 36", 1972 No photography was involved in the creation of either of these paintings. |  |
We called him Little Blackie. He was born to our Mama cat who was somewhat cold and had no idea how to be a mama. As a small kitten he wandered off our second floor balcony and for the rest of his life he was grateful for my rescue, one of the most loving cats I have known.
He would cry at my feet to be picked up, then sit on my open palm and forearm, leaning against my chest, purring.
He was twenty years old and of failing health when I had to leave him for the weekend. I was so afraid I would return to find him gone, but he waited for me, and cried to be picked up when I came through the door. We walked around the living room a bit; then I sat with him on the couch, where he died in my lap.
These paintings are two of a long series, wherein I experimented with the distribution of and relationships among saturated hues. I haven’t seen either of these in over forty years.
He would cry at my feet to be picked up, then sit on my open palm and forearm, leaning against my chest, purring.
He was twenty years old and of failing health when I had to leave him for the weekend. I was so afraid I would return to find him gone, but he waited for me, and cried to be picked up when I came through the door. We walked around the living room a bit; then I sat with him on the couch, where he died in my lap.
These paintings are two of a long series, wherein I experimented with the distribution of and relationships among saturated hues. I haven’t seen either of these in over forty years.
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