portrait of a paternal figure

The Curator

Here we have a contemporary piece by an unknown artist, donated just recently.  Notice the use of lighting and shadows to produce a mellow, golden tone that permeates through the canvas.  The colours are perhaps a few hues darker than seen on the typical palette, but this only serves to bring out the lighter tints of blue and green in the eyes.  They are, of course, the centrepiece of the painting.  If you step closer, you may see how carefully the lines at their corners are done.  Combined with the depth and shadow of the actual eye, they produce a kind of life within the face that is at the epitome of all great portraits.

As a child he showered me with his unbounded affection, until my still half-grown back could no longer carry the burden of so much care.  He was never at a loss for words when I was in the room, words that shaped and molded me into adulthood.

The Psychiatrist:

The rigid posture clearly suggests sterness and formality with a hint of discomfort.  This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to achieve it.  There is stubborness in the set of the jaw.  That slight jutting out of the chin could be either arrogance or defiance, or perhaps a mixture of both.  There are quite a few lines around the eyes, likely the result of too many worries and cares.  The eyes themselves show a great deal of worldly sorrow.  This man has clearly seen things in his life, things that could not be repeated around the dinner table.

His eyes are what I remember the most.  In their oceany depths, a man could gaze in and see his own reflection peering closely back at him from the abyss.  Transparency was what they called it, at once terrible and exhilarating.

The Sculptor:

Now there’s a head I’d like to set in marble!  The profile is exquisite; aesthetically pleasing, but with jsut enough flaws to still appear approachable.  The nose, in particular, is a fine speciman.  The asymmetry of the brow gives an aura of mystery to the entire piece without being too overt about it.  The jawline is slightly problematic – too much tension there – but that could turn out to be an advantage, if treated with the right care.  The same goes for the mouth, which will take time to depict properly.  Still, those high, aristocratic cheekbones will more than make up for it.

He was a quiet man, always secretive and folded within himself like a paper crane.  That he was a wonderful man, I do not deny.

The Poet:

My words fall flat.  It would take someone with a far greater mastery of verse to do full justice to such a masterpiece.  The Bard himself would find it nigh impossible to pen phrases fair enough to clothe such a just and mighty countenance.  Such grace, unrivaled even by the Sun’s daily dance across the skies.  A complex nature, one that sways as the willow in the breeze, but stands firm and unmovable as the ancient oak in the storm.  And that is only the calm, unbroken surface.  One can only imagine what unchartered waters lie beneath.

Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.