OK. You're safe today. No nudity, I promise. (If that's disappointing, check out Self Portrait). Instead, some 'proper' art (you know; a picture of a thing which has been painted many times before) that you could show to your Grandma.
Winter Trees
Acrylic on Card
9" x 6"
Which is great. Because this little painting was a gift from me to my beloved Nana. I didn't know what she'd think of it when I sent it, but I hoped the thought would truly, in this case, count.
And it did.
In fact, it's quite amazing it got to her at all. I was pondering how to get it to her without it getting bent and thinking I'd prefer to present it to her in a frame, so in the end I just wedged the framed painting (glass and all) into a padded envelope and posted it. It dropped through my Nana's letterbox and landed on her doormat in one piece.
This is doubly amazing because my Nana's part of London is pretty dodgy and it must have been an intriguing package. I remember (as a child) asking her why someone had drawn a chalk person in the road and getting some evasive reply about graffiti...
So, I knew it had arrived safely and of course my Nana said thank you and that she liked it very much. But it's hard to really know if a gift is genuinely appreciated, isn't it? Especially when it's art.
Unless chance steps in.
As my Nana lay dying (much sooner than we'd expected) in my parents' house, she was sad to be so far away from her own home in which she'd lived for decades with so many memories breathing from the walls.
So my uncle, who also lives in London, went round her house taking photos. It was the best we could manage at the time.
And guess what? The photo of the heart of her home; the living room mantelpiece, showed my humble little painting standing proudly amongst treasures from her long-departed husband.
Oh!
And later I was told her visitors would be subjected to, 'My eldest granddaughter did that. Isn't it good?'
And although I know that many people have painted more impressive renditions of winter trees than I have managed here, I have a fondness for this little painting.
And I think, yes, it is good, because when I, so foolishly it seemed, posted off that work and it thunked into my Nana's house, I sent her years of pleasure too, and a reassurance that her granddaughter, who was forever doing odd things in odd places with, frankly, some pretty odd people, thought about her and loved her enough to spend some time making a painting just for her.
And that's a grand achievement for any artwork.
