Portraits
Wed., December 10, 09:54 AM
Almost forty-one years ago, my mother came up with an idea for my father’s birthday. My sister and I should have portraits made, that is, oil paintings. Neither of us had sat for photographs since we posed — somewhat successfully — for graduation pictures. At that time, one usually ordered a water color of a black-and-white photo.
Technology moves on; the subject sat for photographs and could choose either color photography or black-and-whites with an oil painting. There is still something luxurious about oil paintings. Mother would not have asked for herself, but she knew that we would do this for Daddy.
As it turned out, the photos were quite good. I even used one when I announced our engagement. (Those were the days when people were always asking whether we were twins. We never could see it.)
The photographer/painter also produced commendable oil paintings. They hung in my parents’ home for years. They were also among the “furnishings” Mother took with her when she moved into a retirement village. (Most of the pictures on her walls were professionally framed prints from an Air France calendar, very pretty but not at all lavish.)
I last saw these pictures at my sister’s house after Mother died. They were always a set; neither of us even discussed keeping our own picture. What I said at the time was, “I don’t know those two young women.” It was so long ago, neither of us had turned thirty yet.
Since I don’t know them, you won’t either, so I’m not squeamish about putting them on line. You can figure out which one is mine, if you like, or guess which one is older.
This picture is from another era; as you can see, DNA rules.
