Art lessons

My (limited) understanding of art is a direct consequence of my mother.  I remember her most when I am in a museum confronting a painting.

My mother's art journey began when she (and her brother) were put in a group home by her disturbed mother.  At "The home" she discovered art and also presents at holidays (neither were present at her parents' house).  After she returned from "The home" she was determined to further explore art.  After graduating from Beverly Hills High School (on the other side of the tracks), she worked until she could afford to attend UC Berkeley.  She received a B.F.A. and M.F.A. in painting. Her master's degree work included a neo-cubist painting.

My father's first job after Berkeley architecture school brought him to Italy, where my mother flourished in the Italian culture of arts.  But I was on the way...  My mother abandoned painting whilst she raised 5 children, but was constantly sketching or drawing with pastels.

When I was in junior high school, my father constructed a small studio in the garage and she began to paint again.  I vividly recall the smell of linseed oil and later the smell of acrylic paints.  In one memorable circumstance, I received a note in a Jr. High class that my mother was in the office.  When I went there, she told me that she wanted to take me to a demonstration of Japanese ink painting right there and then (and she did).

My art education really began in high school when she began  teaching Art, particularly painting at the Pacific Art League in Palo Alto. In the evenings she would preview her slides and quiz us about the paintings.  "Who's this?" she would ask.  "No, that's not right because you can see the foreground isn't composed precisely".  Or, "See how ... was influenced by ...". And that was my introduction to Art History.

She also took the kids (as a family outing) to the DeYoung museum in San Francisco (where she would eventually become a docent).  There, she would examine paintings and tell us about the technique: "Look at the use of impasto here" or "See how the red leads the eye".

Whenever I talked with my mother after leaving the house, I would discuss current arts exhibits or a specific painting.  This would fully engage her knowledge of history and technique.  But as her mind was slowly was destroyed by Alzheimers, this became impossible.

So I miss her most when I view a painting but her voice is always in my ear... "Look at the brushwork", "See how he guides your eye" or finally, "Oh how magnificent".