A Flower - by Nigel A JAMES
I've
got three sisters, and the one who lives in Devon in England is a
patchwork artist, and, the beauty of her pictures is in the
simplicity of their making.
To
begin with, Vanessa chooses a piece of flowery material and then cuts
it up into lots of different sized patches - and then - so as to make
a patchwork picture she sews them all back together again! And the
result – as you well can imagine- looks amazingly just like the
original piece of material did before she cut it up – which of
course poses the question: why bother?
But
bother she does because it is art – and art – as we all know -
has to be seen to be admired, and to be seen it has to be framed -
and this is the job of her husband (my brother-in-law) Mick - and
each and every time he manages to find just the right shade of wood
for each waiting picture. And sometimes, and very rarely, and quite
unbelievably, his frames manage to look even better than the pictures
do themselves. And that's life! But of course, the moment that
everyone loves and looks forward to is the hanging, and this always
takes place on a Sunday.
Everyone
is there. The children – the grandchildren - the neighbours –
friends and whoever else may be passing – and then against a
background of good cheer and loaded expectancy the picture is carried
in from the garage where Mick has just finished its framing, and
then amidst a great hoo-la-laa it is proudly hung on the living room
wall. And the compliments continue until the usual awe inspiring
magical moment starts magically happening. The picture – like all
of my sister's pictures before – starts vanishing away into
nothing.
The
wall with its almost identical flowery pattern has swallowed the
picture alive, and, all that is left is yet another what appears to
be empty frame just hanging on the wall – another invisible
artistic gem on the wall of invisible treasures – my sister's
living room – the flowery Bermuda triangle of Devon. But, there's
good news, too! Once every year in the summer, this trap for fine
art gives up one or two of its victims for an afternoon trip to the
vicarage! An afternoon-out with a difference! But, of course, this
story will have to wait in the wings for a not too distant time in
the future.
And
my other two sisters! They have stories, too -but they're for much,
much later – a time that's waiting and still out of sight!
