My father said she was his favorite, the painting I call Girl on a Green Chair. He painted her for a class at the San Francisco Art Institute and recalled that the professor complemented him on the composition and colors. It's long been one of my favorites too. For the misty orange fading to sky-blue backdrop, the soft side sweep of her brown hair and the mystery of a girl looking away.
She hung in our San Francisco living room in the 60s. In a photo from back then, my younger sister looks to be perhaps seven, meaning the painting dates from 1965 or earlier still. When we moved to Mill Valley, it hung in the eating area beside the kitchen, where we took all our meals on the pigskin table and chairs from Mexico. After our parents divorced, Dad moved to Sonoma with his second wife and hung the Girl on a Green Chair in the identical location, above the kitchen table, where she remained until his death in 2011.
I assume the painting is in Maryland now, where our step-mother moved after he passed. It's unlikely I'll see her or the painting again. But I do have this photograph. It was my father's favorite and one of mine, a part of my childhood, a part of my life.
She hung in our San Francisco living room in the 60s. In a photo from back then, my younger sister looks to be perhaps seven, meaning the painting dates from 1965 or earlier still. When we moved to Mill Valley, it hung in the eating area beside the kitchen, where we took all our meals on the pigskin table and chairs from Mexico. After our parents divorced, Dad moved to Sonoma with his second wife and hung the Girl on a Green Chair in the identical location, above the kitchen table, where she remained until his death in 2011.
I assume the painting is in Maryland now, where our step-mother moved after he passed. It's unlikely I'll see her or the painting again. But I do have this photograph. It was my father's favorite and one of mine, a part of my childhood, a part of my life.