Why? Art has been one of the sustaining joys of my life. I did not grow up around art; we had pictures. Art was what rich people bought.
I’m not exactly sure when that view changed for me. I do remember very clearly, however, the first time I saw a painting that moved me. An older friend of mine from our church, Billy Edwards, had been commissioned to do a painting that would be given away as a prize to the pastor of church that raised the most money for one of the annual fundraising drives in our state of North Carolina.
Billy was not a full-time artist, but I know he wanted to be. As so many painters have throughout history, he would do occasional portraits for people to make extra money. So the opportunity to get paid to paint something from his imagination had to be exhilarating.
Due to my reputation for speaking my mind (a distinctly un-Southern trait), Billy asked me to be the first person to see the painting just prior to completion. My mom warned me to be nice as if a bad review would derail Billy’s career. Such power for a 16-year-old!
Mom had nothing to worry about. The second he unveiled the piece I was captivated. It was the most accessible of subjects: a landscape. But what a landscape it was: a field of golden wheat in the foreground against cloud-shrouded mountains in the distance. What I recall now is the vibrancy of the colors, the texture and shape of the wheat, and the feeling of motion as the wheat appeared to sway in the wind; I wanted to cry. And an art lover was born. Wherever you are, Billy, thank you.
