Description

Main Street in Cold Spring Harbor, New York, holds a special place in my heart, much like it did for Dad.

In this piece, the tree-lined street, with its charming shops and an American flag proudly waving in front of one, captured his artistic spirit perfectly.

In 1995, Dad was 73 years old, and no longer ventured out alone to paint. Instead, I would pick him up early on weekends for drives out east. Those trips were our special times together. I loved driving with Dad because, in many ways, he was the perfect passenger, shared his thoughts on life and beauty as we cruised along. The car became our little world where we had the best, most honest conversations.

One summer morning, we found ourselves in Cold Spring Harbor. By this time, I was already living on Long Island, in a town just east of Cold Spring Harbor, called Huntington. The quaintness of this historic village and the peaceful atmosphere of it can draw you in.

Dad's point of view is from across the street, in front of the post office. I was sitting in my car, parked in the adjacent lot, a few feet away, watching him do his thing. I always loved watching him work. He stood there, soaking in the scene, his eyes alight with inspiration, as he went through his process of creation. First comes the outlining, then the colors. It's like magic unfolding.

Dad's art was never just about the physical scene; it was about capturing the essence and emotion of a place. As an expressionist, his paintings and drawings are filled with vibrancy and bold strokes, reflecting his inner feelings.

In this work, he brings the street to life with lively greens, deep blues, warm reds, and movement.

The trees, the people, the shops, and the flag all blend into a tapestry of life and time, just as Dad saw them. Each brushstroke tells a story, each color a memory.

On this day in 1995, Dad was painting on Main Street. ❤️

Through My Father's Eyes