A great artist is always before his time or behind it.-George Edward Moore

My brother was an artist. I don't know if he was actually as good as we his family thought but he was certainly different than other kids. I don't remember him ever using crayons, he was creating full page drawings (which were recognizable) with fine point markers when he was 3 or 4. He was really frustrated when he went to kindergarten and all they let him use were those big fat crayons and huge paintbrushes and all he could produce was something that "looked like a kindergartner drew it."

When he was about 6 he decided it was time to start trying to sell some of his work so he set up a table in out driveway and displayed several of his pictures with a sign saying they were ten cents each. This probably would have worked better but our street didn't have any sidewalks, was on a super steep hill, and was extremely busy traffic wise. However after a couple hours one of my friends who live two doors away walked purposely down the hill and spent several minutes in serious deliberation before deciding witch picture she wanted. She gave him a dime and took her new possession home. It made his day. I have always appreciated that she did that and that she treated it like a serious transaction.


A couple notes:

1. I had forgotten this story until something my BIL (P) said about Fiona having a distinctive art style reminded me. And I thank him for that.

2. (This will get slightly sad so feel free to skip) Roses posted something this morning that made me realise something. I was still thinking I was going to try to make a living in theatre when my brother died. Unfortunately every single song I tried to sing made me think of him. I told my voice teacher I needed a break but I never went back. I didn't sing at all for well over a year. I've been a little embarrassed and angry at myself that I spent so many years taking drama, dance, and voice lessons and then never even tried to do anything with them. It wasn't till this morning that it occurred to me that it wasn't entirely laziness or cowardice on my part. And I thank Roses for helping me forgive myself a little.