I had another post planned for today. I’ve been fortunate to be in Italy for the past couple weeks with good friends. In fact, Dan Dos Santos and his wife Cristina were here with us. We have had an incredible experience and there has been no shortage of material for posts on Muddy Colors. I anticipate many of my future posts drawing upon the time spent in Italy.
I had an encounter today that I wanted to share first. It was something special and reminded me of the joy and privilege of creating art. My wife, Shari, and I were headed to the National Gallery of Modern and Contemporary Art in Rome. *side note – modern art in Italy means up to 1900.
We were walking through the Villa Borghese park and came upon a man sitting by himself painting. I always like to see what artists are working on. I asked him if he was an artist and he nodded yes. I asked him what his name was and introduced myself. I am not sure but I think the man was partially mute or had a severe speech impediment. It was clear that his voice was very impeded. It sounded more like he was mumbling and only a word or two at a time, but his eyes were sharp and he appeared to clearly understand my mix of English and Italian.
The man had a very humble set up. He was using what looked like sign paint on both cardboard and a piece of dirty orange fabric. Â I think it was some kind of roadside emergency fabric because it had a reflective strip on the back. He had a pretty good variety of brushes. His painting was secured to a roller cart for groceries with some wire. He was holding a book about masterworks on his lap. He was currently working on a copy of Peter Paul Rubens The Hippopotamus and Crocodile Hunt. From a technical standpoint, he wasn’t a great artist. But I found myself very moved that even with humble materials and ostensibly some real difficulties in his life, he still had the need and desire to create and study art. I asked if I could take some photos and he agreed.
His tools appeared to be well used, and he had what looked like an organized kit to paint with. I suspect he’s been doing this for quite a long time. This is all assumption on my part, of course but it sure looked like it. I sat down and showed him some of my work, and immediately felt a kinship with him. We were both artists and shared a love for art. I gave him some money, not knowing if he needed it or not (it looked like he could use it and he expressed gratitude) and went on my way. I will note that he didn’t have a hat or box out to accept money and none of his paintings were for sale. I do believe that he was there purely for the joy of painting and studying art that he loved.
As my wife and I walked away from the man we were both quiet, lost in contemplation of what we had seen and heard. I found tears running down my cheeks and when I looked over to my wife she was crying as well. We couldn’t help but be very moved. I have seen many masterpieces in museums over the last couple weeks and have been inspired by some of the greatest works of art ever created, but I think one of my strongest memories will be seeing this man sitting on the bench studying the old masters painting on cardboard and scavenged cloth. He is a student of Rubens, Rembrandt and other old masters.
It is a source of great joy to be an artist and I hope I never take it for granted. Not everyone is born into equal circumstances, not everyone has the same opportunities, but if you love art do what you need to do to create it.
Howard
I love this.
Thank you, Dan.
This is the most moving post I think I’ve ever read on Muddy-I was brought to tears. I don’t remember a post resonating quite this much with me in the past. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful moment with us. It is easy to forget what a privilege art making is, and what it means to find true joy in painting. Page bookmarked, as I know I’ll be referring back to it regularly in the future.
Steph – Thank you for such a kind reply!
Tangentially, this reminded me of my own month in Florence. Freshly graduated, I stumbled on a university group that did an annual “study art in Italy” trip. It sounded amazing, they generously gave me a scholarship, and I stuffed my belongings into “storage” in a friend’s closet so I could use rent money to make it happen. Once in Italy, I realized however fabulous the program used to be, it was now greatly diminished. The handful of students were beginners, and they were learning 2-point perspective in a windowless room. I have nothing against beginners, but I’d just made myself effectively homeless to get to Italy. I abandoned the group in favor of the museums and architecture! I didn’t speak Italian, my phrase-book was useless (it had 3 ways to ask for a suit to be pressed, nothing about “where is this train going?”) and I had so little money that I had to choose between museum entrance fees and food. (Museums, every time!) It was amazing and harrowing. I was in such a state that the dreaded “the Roma will rob you blind, dumb tourist,” encounter for me was sharing a riverbank one afternoon. They waved. I waved and got back to painting. Several times, I had to draw to communicate, including explaining the plumbing issue in the mounted tank to an elderly woman who never would have made it up the ladder.
Circa July 1998, you would have spotted an impecunious me, somewhere near the Duomo, utterly failing to emulate the gauzy quality of the veil as I copied Botticelli’s Madonna of the Magnificat, and unable to comprehend anything but English and Danish. Many strangers were kind to me and I credit their generosity and the goodwill being an artist can sometimes bestow.
Alia – That is an amazing experience you had! I am glad that you made it through and that you found kindness at the hands of strangers. What an adventure you had!
Howard . . . Very touching story. You don’t have to be great or make great work for others to understand and sympathize with your soul. A psychologist I really like says that art and music are the language of the soul. I believe art and music take up where words leave off. Again, great story.
Thank you, Richard!
I needed that. Such a sweet story. Thank you for sharing, Howard. That man’s passion to create is stronger than artists surrounded by thousands of dollars in supplies. It’s inspiring.
I get so particular about the environment I am in. Too hot, too cold, not convenient enough… just excuses it seems. I could do much more with so much less. This helped me get a little better perspective. Hopefully I don’t need to learn the lesson again! Time to make art, regardless of (insert obstacle).
Oh my goodness! This brought tears to my eyes!! It is possibly the best post Ive seen by you.
Thank u so much for sharing !!!!!
Thank you for giving it a read and commenting, Ping! I think this is my favorite post I have written. It will definitly be with me for a long time.
Love of life. Thanks Howard.
This is lovely. Captures so much of what I want for learners and makers in general.
Tearing up reading this. I needed this today. Thank you.
Your story brought tears to my eyes too Howard. Thank you.
Beautiful and inspiring, very good anecdote
It is truly amazing how the encounters of others can inspire a new and refreshed look on circumstances – however large or small. Thank you for sharing, and your generosity Howard.
🙂
The sweet simplicity of humanity in both kindness and creation. It’s amazing that no matter how hard we try to create great art, the art of connecting with one another is most important art of all.
Thank you