Tuesday, February 24, 2015

A Portrait of My Father


It has taken me a long time to write this, while it took me surprisingly less time to paint this portrait.  This is, as you probably guessed, a portrait of my dad.  I had been journaling about my memories of growing up with him, and how our relationship had shifted as I made the transition into adulthood.  While I was sitting at work one day listening to folk music and thinking about my dad who is in fact a folk musician.  Suddenly it dawned on me, my next painting needed to be of him, not just a nice portrait, but a close up image of him with his one eyebrow raised (a common expression of his).  I could see the painting in my mind and I started it that same day. 


My subject matter certainly helped me with my painting, in many ways.  I have found that when you feel so strongly about an image, as I did about this one, you have to paint it.  At first I was a little apprehensive about it, what if turned out to be horrible?  I hated to think about showing my father a painting of himself and have represented him poorly.  Still, it nagged at me, it had to be painted even if it was horrible, and if it was I could always cover it with something else as no one would ever have to see it.  In my limited experience however, I have found that when a painting nags at you like this one did, it will usually turn out well.

As I said, my subject matter helped me in many ways, not just the image I painted but the man that image represents.  My father, Randy Fehler.  To me my dad has never aged a day, he still looks the same to me as he did when I was a child, even though he's aged more than twenty years in my lifetime.  When I reflect on my memories of him, he remains the same.  Some of these memories stand out in my mind as moments that helped shape me into the person I am, even if those moments did nothing more than make me feel loved. 

As I mentioned, my dad is a musician.  While he makes his living doing something else, his love is music.  He writes music and plays a multitude of different instruments.  He used to sit in the basement of our house to play, and I would take my homework downstairs and listen to him.  I had a few favorite songs of his.  I'll never forget the day I realized he wrote them.  We were in the car when I asked him who wrote the song 'I-65', "I did" he said.
                "What?"  I exclaimed, "you wrote that?"
                "Yes!"  He said rather intently.  I was amazed, and a little proud, that my dad could do something so awesome!  As I grew up my dad was my main source of musical education.  I love listening to folk and bluegrass music just like him, at first the music reminded me of him but the more I listen the more I love it on it's own! 

My dad is much more than musical education, he is a consistent source of love and support.  He and my mother amazed me when I decided to shift my focus from music to art in my senior year of high school.  An art degree is not something that really makes you a lot of money in life, but my parents never tried to steer me to anything else, they wanted me to be happy in life, even if that meant never having much money.  It was my dad who bought me my very first real paintbrush.  Throughout my childhood I loved drawing, painting, and making things.  The crayons and watercolor set were always my favorite part of back to school shopping!  When I was about 7 years old, my dad bought me my first set of real artist's paintbrushes.  My sister had taken the plastic brush from my watercolor set and cut the bristles short because they 'painted better that way.'  I was devastated!  I ran to my dad with the ruined brush and he did his best to console me.  Later that week he came home with a set of three camel hair paintbrushes and presented them to me saying that these were mine to paint with, I didn't have to share.  They couldn't have been more precious to me if they'd been made of gold. 

This was just the first of many things my dad got for me to support my art.  Over the years he brought home a number of things from an artist's bag to a mitre saw, all things I needed to be successful as an artist.  He even hung all my college paintings in his music room.  When I decided to buy a nice DSLR camera, I naturally went to my father for help in choosing one.  He was a talented photographer as well as a talented musician.  His photos were hung around our house and I always marveled at them.  With his guidance I chose a camera, saved my money and bought the thing while I was home for a visit.  When I got to my parents house with my new camera my dad and I spent some time playing with it and he gave me a crash course in photography, at the very least I went back to Chicago knowing what all the buttons did.  He then disappeared for a minute, when he returned he was carrying his old grey camera bag full of equipment.  He gave me two tripods, a lens filter, and his old grey camera bag.  I love that bag, not only is it just a good bag and really cool looking, I love it because it was my father's bag.  I find I hold my head just a little higher when I have it with me.

When I decided to start my jewelry business, he was right there ready to help.  He had been participating in the KY Music Weekend for years, and they had recently started a craft fair section.  He encouraged me to enter the fair.  When I did enter, he immediately began making preparations.  I had never done a fair like this before and needed a tent, displays, everything.  My dad got me a tent, a table, constructed two display boards and an earring display, as well as a standing display incorporating some of his instruments to keep with the music weekend theme.  As I was travelling by bus from Chicago, I could not have made these preparations without him.   At the next year's fair he stepped up yet again when I started selling some of my photographs.  He helped not only with selecting those that were 'sale worthy' but with printing and framing them as well.   Later my mother told me how he'd worked so hard in the weeks before the fair to get everything ready for me.  He was invaluable.

My dad helping me set up at the Music Weekend fair.

As if my father's supportive and loving actions were not enough, I have caught supportive words from him as well.  I'll overhear him talking with someone about my work and catch him saying something like "she's very good."  Almost like he would praise me as any father would and then lean in and do 'real talk'.  Recently he told me about his experience of the time I brought home a painting I'd been working on in high school.  I'd painted an old woman with all her wrinkles, it was the best of my work at that time.  He said to me "you brought that home and we all went 'whoa!'"  Even still, every time I post a new design to my facebook page, he shares and comments about how good it is.  I wonder if he knows how much his words and actions have affected me.

With all these memories swimming in my mind I painted this portrait of my father.  The experience of painting it brought me somehow closer to him, it trudged up memories that laid untouched in my mind for too long.  Through my reminiscing I was able to see my dad's relationship with me as a whole, and realized all the many ways he has impacted my life.  I think I would be a very different person without him.

I kept the painting a relative secret until it was finished.  When it finally was completed all the apprehensions and nerves I had at the beginning melted away.  It was everything I wanted it to be.  It was ready to be revealed to my father, the one opinion I cared most about.  His reaction was wonderful!  It went something like this: "Oh my!...Are you serious!" and then of course, "well, even though I don't care for the subject matter, it is very well done!"  I told him how I needed to paint it, about how everything in me screamed to make this painting, and as a fellow artist, I knew he would understand.


I made this painting because it needed to be painted.  I don't quite know why but the resulting increase in love, appreciation, and admiration I have for my father is reason enough. 

I wonder if he will ever really know the impact he's had on my life, and how much I love him.