Thursday, December 13, 2012

Another memorial.

The first time I heard about Frank, it was from hubby, who was taking painting lessons from him.  He'd go to class with Mrs. Cherry, and he came home with beautiful paintings.  Many an evening we spent in the basement of Grandma's, him painting and me running back and forth up and down the stairs getting sewing advice from her then returning to my labors next to him.  Wonderful memories of crafting together.

It seems that hubby and Frank had soft spots for one another.  Two artists, seeing the world in colors the rest of us tend to miss.


Thanks to Frank, our house walls are covered in vibrant colors, expressing landscapes that remind me of Vermont, streets in our hometown, houses that draw us down King Street each time we return to Charleston.  We'd go visit him in his humble studio that doubled as a house, and we'd end up leaving with one - or more paintings that he'd cut a deal for us on.  



Frank didn't appear to have many worldly things, but he certainly had passion and talent.  I am so grateful he shared that with hubby and that, as a result, hubby's paintings hang alongside Frank's in Turnberry Love today.  I am so grateful to be able to say I knew such an amazing artist and that I was a part of the core group of people who filtered in during the greatest times of need (I'm not sure which of us needed more - us or him) and bought a painting or two to get him by. 

We were lucky enough to receive a painting from Frank for our wedding.  And, probably because of Frank, our wedding guest book was a painting of us done by the incredibly talented man I married.


Yes, the world has lost a great artist, and I bet heaven is a little more colorful this week.  Paint in peace, Frank Rowland.  You will be missed.

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