Custom Oil Portrait of Mother & Child at the Piano
Here’s a story about a young mother who wanted to surprise her husband with a custom family portrait of herself with the new baby. A mother and child portrait —always a treasure!
First we arranged for the perfect time for the baby—well, toddler—after his nap, etc., etc. Then we photographed the two of them at the piano. You never know what to expect with a young little tyke, but we all went with the flow and it was lots of fun. He was indeed cute, curious and kept trying to play the piano, for example. We handled that easily of course by closing the cover over the keys. It wasn’t until I started the painting that I realized how absolutely dull the piano looked with the keys hidden. When I returned to the “scene of the crime”—no, no, no—the joyous adventure!—to photograph the open keyboard, not only did I find the piano at a different angle but after various calculations concerning direction in the room, it turned out that even the piano was different—it had been a stand-in while the correct piano was being shipped. That trusty old motto was called upon again: “Be prepared to handle anything!”
All right, so I’m painting away. It’s summer and there is plenty of time for the Christmas deadline. I have it in underpainting stage where I block out the composition in brown and white paint only (something I had learned from my training from the European Masters Rembrandt, Velasquez and Vermeer). My client asks me if there is any way that she could show the painting at their August anniversary celebration. Well, in fact there was. I prettied it up with extra detail that I don’t usually put into that stage of painting, and, voilâ!, a surprising oil portrait in progress, where although there was plenty of roughness, the faces were definitely recognizable and even lifelike. The husband liked it so much that he didn’t want to give it back so that I could finish it. Obviously we handled his protest, but that incident introduced my painting career to an additional creative avenue—that of brown and white finished paintings—with no color intended. (I’ll write about that some time too.)
Okay, here’s to the “Best of the Day for You!” from the Rockwell Portrait Artist. And thank you, dear cousin Norman Rockwell, for a wonderful legacy—still working to make you proud!
Till next time ….
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