Old Red Bin

Old Red Bin (24x36)

I really don't like the end result of this painting. It feels like I rushed it (which I did) and ended up with mediocrity. There is a long, unfortunate story that goes with it.

Years ago, I did another painting, just like this one (except much better) for my friend, Jenn. When my dad saw it, he asked if it was already taken. He loved it and wanted it; had a place all picked out for it. Of course, as we already know, it was Jenn's and he was out of luck. I promised to make him one soon.

Eighteen months pass.

I had started on the painting for dad but just couldn't get into it. It's excruciatingly difficult for me to do the same painting twice. I powered through and ended up with an acceptable result.

Tragedy strikes.

I wake up in the middle of the night to a horrendous crash. Panicked, I presumed someone had broken in and had become trapped in all my crap (not impossible, believe me). I anxiously crept out into the living room and found nothing. The "junk/everything else" room, however, held a dreadful sight. Dad's painting had fallen from the shelf it was drying on and landed perfectly on the corner of an old end table. Perfectly, meaning the corner had punctured a hole in the painting. Do you know how difficult it is to make a hole in canvas? It had to have fallen at such a perfect angle. I can appreciate that now. Then, I expressed a few choice words and cried. A lot.

For the longest time, I just didn't have the heart to start again. To paint the same thing. Again. Six more months passed before I worked on it again. I could barely get anything done on it. Finally, I packed everything up and took it to the farm. I sat in my parents' basement for an entire weekend and finished it. It's far from perfect but dad says he likes it. I maintain he only says so because he's my father and is WAY to nice to say otherwise.

It hangs above the fireplace in the living room. Everytime I'm home at the farm, I stare at it and feel like I need to paint him something new. Maybe I will. One of these days.