Description

ALL I HAVE
a narrative by J. Tar

What is color?

The boy looked at his father’s drawing, made with black ink on white paper. He turned away from it quickly. He wanted color. He could not see.

When the boy became a man, he saw the drawing again, but this time it was different. Still black on white, but more. A man sitting or lying on a bench. The man, asleep. And under his leaning body, a simple paper bag. The man looked peaceful, but there was pain. And it filled his heart with sadness.

He asked his father why he had created such a sad drawing. And his father replied,

“Because the man was true and free. The man lost his costume. And without his costume, there is only the man. And that is beautiful. And it is the same for all of us.”

When the boy became an older man, he had seen a lot in the world. He once had everything. Even a dog... But that was all gone now. And his mother and father were long gone, too. 

And he was tired—his skin wrinkled–his steps short and measured. He had few material things left of any value—all could fit into a simple paper bag.

He had lost everything except his beautiful memories that came alive when he slept. So he slept often—sometimes even on a bench.

And like the man in the drawing, he had lost his costume. And he could finally see—he, too, was now true and free.
ALL I HAVE ❤️

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