Description

We were a young, poor immigrant family, and I was just 5 years old at the time of this painting. Imagine how weird we looked, with my Dad and his easel - on the beach - painting. But weirdness is a learned thing, and for me, it was just natural that he painted everywhere we went, and I'm so glad that he did.

I remember as a child, the many times we took the subway train on the long journey from our small Spanish Harlem apartment to the Coney Island beach.

My parents always sat us in the front car so that we could peer out the window when the train exited the dark tunnel, toward the end of the ride. With growing excitement, we raced to be the first to see Coney Island emerge in the distance. It was the amusement park that showed first, with the old Bobcat roller-coaster, the tall Parachute Jump, then the giant Wonder Wheel.

And as we exited the train, the amazing smell of the beach made it all come to life - the salty air, the sand, Nathan's hot dogs, and potato Knishes - all mixed with the high-pitched screams coming from the rides.

Today, as I stare at these paintings Dad created on those hot summer days, it all comes back to me - totally and wonderfully. And knowing that he, and we as a family are forever embedded in these images, along with the very paint strokes that created them - Dad standing there in front of his easel - makes Coney Island Beach forever live in my heart. ❤️

Through My Father's Eyes