Description
In this work, Dad captured a deeply poignant scene from Central Park, New York City.
The simple India Ink line drawing portrays a homeless woman, slumped on a park bench, lost in a moment of fitful rest. The bench is minimalistic, yet it holds a world of untold stories. Nearby, pigeons peck at the ground, indifferent to the struggles of the human world around them. Their presence adds a sense of normalcy, contrasting starkly with the woman's plight.
Dad had a profound love for drawing. He cherished its portability, often carrying a simple tablet with paper and a few drawing tools—be it pen, pencil, graphite, or oil pastel. He believed in the raw expressiveness of drawing, where the essence of a scene or figure could be captured with the simplest of lines.
I vividly remember how he always had his drawing tablet with him, whether we were out together or he was exploring on his own. Central Park was a frequent destination for him. He would find a bench, settle down, and let his surroundings speak to him. It didn’t matter if the scene was complex or simple; what mattered was the life and message it conveyed.
Over the years, I have come to deeply appreciate his drawings. They hold an incredible depth and timeless meaning, resonating with the emotions and stories of the people and places he encountered.
This piece is proof of Dad'ss ability to find beauty and significance in the most humble and often overlooked moments of life.
On this day, he found this powerful, and some would say tragic, moment. But for Dad, it was beautiful because who of us, in this crazy world, is not just inches and moments away from being Homeless. And here she was; she found her home, and warm company, in my father's heart, to live forever in this beautiful drawing. ❤️
The Drawing Days
I remember Dad leaving early and returning home late, with only his drawing tablet in hand. Inside his tablet were a few sheets of paper, and in his pocket, the drawing instruments - a fountain pen, a small set of colored pencils, maybe a piece of graphite, all held together with a rubber band.
Today, these visions of him walking to and from our home, tablet or easel in hand, stay with me because of their regularity, simplicity, and how he created such beautiful things with so little.
I also sometimes wonder if Mom was lonely while Dad was away on his many artistic journeys, especially during the weekends when she wasn't working. Still, she never complained and always had a welcoming meal ready for him upon his return. She supported him and his creative vision completely. That's true love, and they had it. ❤️
When I look at Dad's art creations, I feel the power of Harmony and Synchrony.
Through My Father's Eyes
