Sunday, June 19, 2022

A Father's Day Memory About My Dad

My father was a chemist. He worked in the paints division for a major corporation that had a variety of divisions. Eventually they got into multiplication and subtraction. (JK)

Because I excelled in math, science, and English he hoped I would go to college and become an engineer. Though accepted at an Ivy League school I was on a waiting list and instead went to Ohio University in Athens.

My interest in becoming an engineer was slim to none at that point. I had burned out on math. Instead I took an interest in philosophy and art. The latter had been part of my internal fiber since early childhood, though probably the former had as well because I can remember at an early age swinging on the swingset pondering why it was that most animals concealed where they lived whereas humans had bright houses out in the open, not hidden at all. Over time I slowly moved toward pursuit of a fine arts degree.

The interesting thing to me is how much my father supported me in whatever endeavor I pursued. As I got involved in painting in college, my dad provided me with pigments to mix my own paints along with a five gallon pail of high gloss emulsion. Very early on I was able to paint larger canvases at no cost for supplies. It says a lot about my dad that he accepted my rejection of the path he envisioned for me, and actively supported my endeavors and dreams. And when I veered to another direction, he accepted that as well.

The photos here are of cans of pigment he gave me 50 years ago when I was in college. Some have dried out, but others are surprisingly still good. Thanks, Dad.



Happy Father's Day to Dads Everywhere.

2 comments:

  1. I remember in the 1980's when my kids and I were doing a little art-work (painting gourds and small clay heads), you gave us small jars of several of the pigments your dad had given to you, and gave us ideas on how to mix them to get desired colors.
    I'd never taken an art class in my life. :)
    So much of our lives are now memories.

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  2. Cool. Thanks for the additional memory.
    And yes, at this point, much of our lives are now memories.

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