My grandparents collected Western art, paintings and small sculpture, from the early 60s to the late 80s. I have no artist relatives, so they were the main artistic influences of my early life. Their taste in art was conservative, but sound, and over the years the art they bought and sold helped put several grandchildren through school. But I’m sure they didn’t collect for investment—they collected because they loved having beautiful things around, and also enjoyed their friendships with artists and dealers. There are stories my grandfather told of meetings in parking lots, choosing paintings from the trunks of cars.
Many of the works have been sold off or given away now, but my gram still remembers the stories, and is afraid they will be lost when she is gone. So I’m going to tell a few. Here’s one:
This oil is by Burt Proctor. My grandparents bought it about 30 years after it was painted. One day the Proctors and the Wieghorsts came to dinner at my grandparents’ home, and when Proctor saw the painting he was stunned, said the last time he’d seen it was in his own mother’s home, and it had been lost for years. The cowboy is a self portrait, painted from a mirror. I love how the orange in the scarf and background canyon flattens the work, and that minty green is so unexpected. The motion of the figure is also awkward and authentic. Can’t you just feel the tension?
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