Yesterday was…conflicting. On the one hand, it was an extraordinarily beautiful day–one with the level of clarity you see after a couple of days of rain–and on the other, a very sad one.
I painted the view below of the Golden Gate Bridge from El Camino Del Mar, just past the Palace of Fine Arts. When I was done, I was approached by a stranger, Tod, who’d told me he’d lost his brother two days before in a car accident, 20 yards down from where I was sitting. Thirty minutes before I’d taken a break and walked down to see the flowers left at the tree where his brother’s car had struck, an old Monterey Cypress. Since we’d had our first big rain the day of the accident, and it’s a sharp turn on a steep hill, I can image the slick roads that day must have combined to create this tragedy.
This isn’t the first time a painting has had a special connection with someone. As artists, it’s something we seek, but of course can never plan for. A place remembered or one you’d like to visit is the norm. You’ll never know when that connection will be made. I’m grateful I was there at the moment Tod came back to visit that tree, and hope this painting brings him comfort, some day.