The first time I heard my sister’s voice, I remember feeling like a failure. It wasn’t really my fault – my parents lied to me and my brothers. They said that if we would just keep it down, we wouldn’t teach the new baby to cry so much. Then when they called to say I had a sister I could hear her crying. Obviously something went wrong.
Then I met her. That was also a bit of a disappointment, too, but only because she turned out to be a baby. I was seven and I wanted a sister to play with. Continue reading Sister, Sister
Good portraits are ineffable – they capture not just a likeness, but an expression, a gesture, some small glimpse of personality. In the faces below I see boldness, thoughtfulness, crotchety sarcasm and flirtatious friendliness. Some seem amused, others sad – a few merely private, content to keep their own counsel.
These ladies drew my attention in my recent visit to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, made me wish I could gather them together in one room (or hallway, à la Hogwarts?) where they could converse together while I eavesdrop to see how well they match up to my perceptions.
Most seem like they would enjoy each other’s company, or at least be quite capable of making some incisive observations on the parade of visitors that come before them each day.
What would you have them thinking or saying? Continue reading ART: The (mostly) Affable Ladies of the Boston MFA