Pensive Portrait

AgeSpots contributor Ying-Ying Yuan (aka Y3) suggested a blog post on what we choose to retain as we age and what we discover.

That prompted me to think about a portrait painted by a friend of my mother’s when I was seven years old.  Somehow, that canvas survived 60+ years, preserved through a series of moves from Denver, to Minneapolis, to San Antonio, to Dallas, to New York and to Tucson.

I vividly recall sitting for the portrait as my mother’s friend painstakingly reproduced my sleeveless mustard dress, slightly uneven bangs  (my mother never learned to cut bangs well) and big hazel eyes.  I was doing Mom’s friend a favor, helping her hone her artistic acumen.  I remember that I didn’t particularly enjoy it.

I found the painting in our storage locker when I was sorting through scrapbooks and memorabilia.  It was in superb condition.  Remarkably, it was not damaged, dinged or dirty.  A museum restoration professional would be impressed.

A few months ago, I took the portrait to a local framing company, cradling it carefully to avoid aisles and customers as I made my way to the back of the store.

When the clerk saw it—and me—she said, “Well, that’s a really old painting!”  She immediately stammered something like, “Oh, I didn’t mean…”   I stopped her.  “You’re exactly right.  It is over 60 years old.”

The framing job came out beautifully, and now the portrait hangs in my office as a backdrop for Zoom calls.

What does this painting mean to me?  It foreshadows an exciting and peripatetic life, and depicts a young girl slightly uncomfortable with the viewer’s gaze. It looks at me now as a “finished product,” with a knowing sense that everything would work out well in my life.

More than a scrapbook offading photos or a book of old elementary school report cards and professional news clippings, it is my most treasured possession.  It will be with me always.